(Edith)
It was the early morning when the family gathered at the church for the final rites for my mother as well as for Alfred. It was chilly outside, a heavy blanket of snow coating the Earth. I remember how when I was young, my mother would ask me
"Do you know what happens to this snow?"
I would then shake my head, urging her to hurry and answer her own question. She would giggle then ruffle my hair and reply,
"It melts. And paves way for spring to come. No matter how thick the winter is, spring always comes after that."
I wondered if she had been proven wrong that time. What if the snow didn't melt but just got thicker? Would spring still come?
I looked back at the ritual in front, breaking my attention away from the steady snow.
Such uncertainties.
The two gravediggers stood in front cloaked in black, hoods covering their neatly sandy brown hair. Their eyes were hollow, no emotions in it. I wonder how many graves had they dug their entire lives and how many more they would dig. Maybe they got devoid of the emotions that went down with the grave they were digging. It was nothing more than a job to them.
My father stood next to me in an attention position, his nose becoming redder with time. On my left stood Albert looking down at his foot. I could hear they heavy breathing.
Next to him, on the other side stood Ingrid, her eyes down and her face blank.
Her eyes were watching her own heart break into pieces. I remember her face with her eyes crying out loud and screaming at me desperately. Her love story was one of those stories that had been left unfinished. Heinz had broken the promise for he hadn't returned.
A mother. A brother. A lover. Gone in the blink of an eye no moment spent would ever be enough.
I sighed silently, closed my eyes and took a deep breath and waited for the tedious moment to get over.
----x-----x----
It was October of 1944 and the war was slowly coming to an end with the Axis powers on the losing side. But hope for the jews? Not so much yet. The condition of the Jews and the undesirables were worse than ever. There were times, we saw Jews walking to the camps, naked and malnutrition. It was like seeing live skeletons dragging their feet, exhausted and begging for mercy. Their silent screams were deafening. If anyone paused for a breath, the officers were right behind to whip them to walk ahead while for some, their body just gave up.
It was getting colder with the sun slowly setting down in the horizon. It had been two months already after the funeral. I hadn't heard from Arno for a long time, neither had I tried to contact him.
It was ironic to state that life was beginning to seem peaceful. Not peaceful but monotonous. There hadn't been any air attacks upon my town but we were always running to the shelter houses whenever we heard the sirens ring. It had become a regular part of life. No one talked much in the house, everyone had become strangers under one roof. Time and then, Ingrid would try to start a conversation with me but slowly would forget her words, slipping into exhaustion. I didn't put any effort towards it either. Maybe it was better that way.
I leaned upon the window pane, watching the winter blues set it. A calm yet exhausted breeze blew across my face. A breeze exhausted of death, reluctant to flow anymore. I closed my eyes and sighed. Closing the window, I walked outside my room. I squinted my eyes a little as the outside light hit me.
I stood atop the stairs and looked across the living room and waited for my eyes to adjust themselves.
I didn't see any different story down there. There was my father and brother sitting on the couch and across them sat Herr Huber and Carl. There were occasional smiles across their faces. The intensity of their conversation wasn't very welcoming so I decided to retreat back into the room before I caught anyon's attention.
Closing the door slightly, I headed towards my bed. I punched the pillow with a huff of anger and plopped myself down onto the bed.
I let sleep grasp me and fluttered my eyes close.
I got up abruptly as I heard a intense knock on the door. I rubbed my face and peeked outside at the dark sky. Yet another day with no city lights. I wondered how long had it been since I had fallen asleep.
There it was again. The knock on the door. Frantic yet cautious.
Bringing the blanket closer to myself, I stuttered out, "C-come on in."
Ingrid rushed inside the room, carefully locking the door behind her. My eyes prudently followed her movement as she took a seat across me on the bed.
She grasped my hand abruptly then gave a cautious look back at the door/
A bit frightened, I stuttered out, "I-Ingrid?"
She hurriedly looked back at me and whisper screamed, "Edith. You have to run away."
For a moment, it struck me as if there was someone making their way to murder me. Nevertheless, I let the thought pass and waited with my orbs widened for Ingrid to continue.
She forced my palms towards her and dabbed a crushed paper on it, closing my palm to a fist. Cupping my cheeks, she hissed again,
"Try and understand. Father will get you married to Carl as soon as he can."
I sighed looking away from her and let my eyelids drop a little," How does that even matter now, Ingrid. Arno isn't coming to save me anymore."
She rolled her eyes, irritably, "So you will get married to a pretty little doll face? Nice save!"
Okay, what was with that hint of sarcasm? I wondered.
I wondered what had gotten into her all of a sudden. She and I, both knew that father was trying to get me married to Carl from the very start except his stubbornness was at its peak now.
Her facial features softened as she said, "He is waiting down there for you, Edith."
My eyes widened instantly. It was a moment later, I rushed to the window and pushed the window open. I felt like my lungs had finally managed to release the air. I looked back at Ingrid and mouthed to no one is particular, disbelief gripping me,
"He is here. What is he doing here?"
Then it struck me. I let my emerging smile drop instantly and I looked back outside the window where Arno and Hans waited all alert.
"Dummkopf! Is he trying to get himself killed? What on earth is he doing out here in front of a Nazi official house? What does he think of himself? A hero or something?" Calming down a bit, I said mostly to myself, "Besides, he did say he didn't have anything to fight for."
Ingrid gave off a soft giggle while taking a place beside me, "Well, he came back for his damsel in distress."
I didn't say a word more but looked back at Ingrid.
She kissed me lightly on the cheek, "Mama is here and so is Alfred. Alfred hated himself for what he did. Mama was proud of your strength. Enough said. Now, move!"
I looked at her, my eyes widened by a fraction, my mind swirling with a million of thoughts and my breath getting heavier.
My mind went blank. I didn't know what I was doing. I pulled her into a hug. I buried my face into her hair, taking in all the last of her warmth and familiarity. She ruffled my hair as of a child and whispered sadly, "I love you, Edith".
I parted from the hug to look at her. Cupping her chin, I planted a feathery kiss on her forehead as a tear trickled made its way tenderly down her cheek.
She grinned widely and pushed me towards the window, urging me to go. I looked back a last time, hesitantly, yet unsure of whether I should. I closed my eyes and taking a deep breath I jumped.
Hans caught me before I could hit the ground. He grinned, raising an eyebrow at me. His smile was an irony to his exhausted shape.
"Miss me much?" I giggled lightly as he placed me on my feet.
Arno came over to me guiltily, trying not to meet my eyes, "Edith, I..." I cut him off by smashing my lips into his taking him by surprise. He remained stiff for a while then wrapped his arms around my form, relief and calmth washing over him.
Our tiny little bubble was popped when Hans cleared his throat.
"I wouldn't like to disturb much but I think we are in a hurry" Hans stated with an urgency.
Arno smiled at me then grabbed my hand and the three of us hastily took off, running into the forest.
I didn't look back. Not even ones to look at the place where I had spent my childhood running and giggling, not even at my sister who had pushed me towards the window telling me to run away, not even at the place which was my own. Maybe I had finally come to realise that the place was mine no more. It had become far too foreign and its inhabitants, strangers. Its grip around me was tightening and now I had broken free.
Arno had taken my hand and together we were running off.