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//To my Hasi//
I don’t know if you’re alive. I don’t know if I deserve to write this. But I have to.
My hands are shaking. Maybe it’s the cold, or maybe it’s the weight of everything I’ve done. Everything we’ve done. I don’t even know where to begin, because how do you ask for forgiveness when you’ve already lost the right to it?
I was blind. I believed in something monstrous, and I let it take everything from us. I thought we were fighting for something greater, but now, when I close my eyes, all I see is blood. I feel it on my hands, no matter how much I try to wash it away. The screams won’t stop. The faces won’t fade. And you—where are you? Are you cold? Are you hungry? Are you suffering? Are you even alive?
I should have done more. I should have fought harder—not for them, not for their war, but for you. I should have grabbed your hand and ran before any of this could happen. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be writing this from the ruins of a world that never cared about us.
I wonder if you knew. If you ever saw what I was too much of a coward to say. The way I watched you when you slept, the way I never minded when you stole my blanket, the way I clung to you like you were the only real thing left in all that madness. Because you were.
And now I don’t even know if you’re still out there. I don’t know if you ever think of me. If you hate me. Maybe you should.
Mein [[Hasi]], I’m so sorry. I never told you the truth. I never gave you the love you deserved. But God—I swear, I swear—I loved you. I still do.
If you somehow read this, if the world hasn’t swallowed you whole… please, please forgive me.
//Love,
<<textbox "$firstName" Lukas>>
<<textbox "$lastName" Weber>>//
[[8 years ago]]
With a quiet groan, I push myself up, but as I do, a sudden wave of panic grips me. My chest tightens, each breath coming faster than the last. The sheer number of people crowding around me feels suffocating, as if the air is being drained out of the space around me. I try to move, but the bodies press in on every side, trapping me in a suffocating grip.
My heart pounds and each breath feels more shallow than the last, and my pulse quickens, pumping adrenaline through my veins. The panic grows—my vision begins to blur at the edges as I struggle to stay composed. "No, no, no," I think, trying to fight off the sense of impending claustrophobia. I try to slow my breathing, but it's like the crowd's suffocating weight keeps pulling me under, each breath harder to catch than the last.
[[Panic-]]Just then, a small hand grabs my arm and yanks me out of the suffocating crowd. I stumble slightly, gasping as I finally catch my breath. My heart still pounds in my chest from the panic of almost being crushed. Looking around, I realize I’m now at the back of the group, where there’s more room to breathe.
That’s when I notice the hand still gripping my arm. I glance down at the hand then follow the hand to its owner and find myself staring at him.
He’s a boy, maybe a year younger than me, with dirt-streaked hair and ragged clothes that match my own. But that’s where the similarities end. His hair—golden even under layers of grime—falls in wild tangles that catch the faint light. Then there are his eyes, two piercing sapphires that seem to see right through me, vibrant even in the shadow of dirt on his face.
I try to speak, to thank him, but my throat tightens, and all I manage is a shaky breath. I’ve never seen anyone like him before—ive never seen a boy be..pretty?. My chest feels warm, almost painfully so, and I realize with a jolt that Im staring, but i dont look away, i cant look away from him.
"Uh... thank you," I finally stammer, my voice embarrassingly weak.
The boy gives a small, crooked smile that makes my stomach flip. "try not to get yourself killed," he says lightly, his voice warm and teasing, before letting go of my arm.
The loss of his touch leaves me oddly cold, and I want to grab his hand back, to feel the warmth of it again. Instead, I nod dumbly, feeling heat creep up my neck as I watch him turn and disappear into the crowd.
[[I run after him]]
[[let him leave]]I scramble after him as he slips through the crowd, weaving toward the side where there’s less chaos. His golden hair is an easy beacon to follow, even as he moves with the fluidity of someone used to ducking and dodging. I’m determined not to lose him.
My legs pump as I push forward, narrowly avoiding colliding with an older man’s leg. The man curses under his breath, but I barely hear it. My focus is entirely on the boy ahead of me. He’s faster than he looks, but I refuse to let him disappear—my chest sqeezes at the thought.
Finally, I catch up to him, skidding to a halt by his side. My breath comes in sharp bursts, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of how small the space between us is. He glances at me with those bright, almost otherworldly sapphire eyes, his expression a mix of amusement and curiosity.
"Are you following me?" he says with one eyebrow quirking up as if amused.
I open my mouth to reply but falter. My heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear my own thoughts, im not sure if it was from the running or those eyes. "I just... I didn’t get to thank you properly," I manage to say, though my voice feels too loud, too awkward.
His smiles slightly, and he shrugs. "You looked like you needed the help," he says simply.
I want to say more, i want to keep him talking so I can keep looking at him, but my brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. i want to ask him, How does someone look like that in a place like this?, ive never seen a boy like. everyone around me looks like me but he doesnt, he looks so diffrent, is he even from around here? and why does my stomach feel funny when i havent eaten properly since last monday?
Instead, I nod, my words stuck in my throat. Whatever happens next, I’m not letting this boy out of my sight again
[[Whats your name?]]
[[uh, im lukas]]
[[..Youre so pretty]]
I stand there, dumbfounded, replaying what I just saw. My ears tune out the chatter of the crowd around me, and all I can do is watch him as he slips further and further away until he disappears entirely. My chest tightens, an ache forming that I don’t quite understand. I already want to see him again.
Shaking my head, I force myself to focus, clearing my thoughts. I glance around, scanning the chatty sea of people. To my right, a small group of boys my age catches my eye. They stand apart, their clothes clean and far better than anything I could ever afford. They’re wearing blue warm coats—the kind of fine material ive only seen on the wealthy.
The boys laugh together, their voices mixing with the crowds chatter, the one in the center says something that makes the others erupt into grins. There are four of them, but the one in the middle draws my attention the most. His long, black hair reaches his shoulders, an unusual sight for a boy. It frames his sharp features well. he oozes with confidence and glee ive only seen on boys right before i steal their bread.
My gaze lingers a moment too long. Suddenly, he catches my eye. His lips curl into a knowing grin, playful and almost challenging, as if he knows I’ve been staring.
Heat rises to my face, and I quickly look away, heart thudding in my chest. Who is he? arent the rich usually at home with theyre feet proped on their fancy chairs? why isnt he?
[[i head over to them]]
[[i look away]]The boy smiles softly, a slight shrug lifting his shoulders. "I'm Maxwell."
I raise an eyebrow, curious. "Maxwell? ive never met anyone with that name, What's your last name?"
Max chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Why would you need that?, ?"
you rich or somthin?
The question almost makes me laugh, especially when I'm standing here in worn pants that barely cover my ankles. What kind of rich person looks like me?
I smile, nudging him playfully. "Rich? Do I look rich to you, MaXwElL?" I tease.
Max laughs softly, his grin widening. "No, I suppose not."
I shrug, a more shy smile tugging at my lips. "I'm Lukas Weber. It's nice to meet you."
Max catches my shy hand and shakes it, hes hand feels smaller in mine-
[[BANG!|Bang bang]]I give a small smile, my face flushing softly from his attention and I'm not sure why. I quickly blurt out my name. It comes out awkwardly, my voice cracking, and I flush even more in embarrassment.
Max chuckles, but he doesn’t tease me. He simply nods, giving me a gentle smile. "I'm Maxwell..."
I lean in slightly, curiosity piqued. "Maxwell? I’ve never heard that name before," I say softly, the words slipping out without much thought.
Max shrugs with an easy smile. I mimic the gesture, arching a brow as curiosity takes hold. "Hm, what’s your last name then?"
He mirrors my expression, his grin turning playful as he arches his own brow. "You first, Lukas."
I can’t help but grin back, amused by the exchange. With a shrug i answer him. "I’m Lukas Weber. Your turn."
Max parts his lips to respond, but before he can utter a word, a gunshot cracks through the air. The sound jolts both of us, snapping our attention to the front. My heart hammers in my chest as my body tenses, the moment between us shattered by the chaos erupting around us.
[[BANG!]]
I roll my eyes, tucking my hands into the pockets of my worn, dirty jeans. They’ve grown too small over the years—my ankles peek out, pale and exposed—but I stopped caring a long time ago. The fabric clings uncomfortably, a constant reminder of how little I have.
With a frustrated huff, I comb a hand through my messy brown hair, pushing my stubburn bangs out of my eyes. They fall back almost immediately, but I don’t bother fixing them again. My gaze drifts over the crowd, scanning the restless men standing nearby, some fidgeting and others staring off into the distance. Their tired faces mirror my own boredom.
The air is heavy with murmured conversations and the occasional bark of orders, but it all feels distant. I shuffle my feet, pretending to be at ease, though my heart is restless—waiting, as always, for something, anything, to happen.
[[BANG!!]]I stride over to them, subtly tugging at my old pants that have grown too tight over time. I usually don’t care, but if I’m going to talk to them, I might as well make a decent impression.
Their laughter dies down as the four boys look over at me, three of them look cold and uninterested. But the one in the middle, the one with the slightly more confident air, flashes me a grin. He steps out from the group, his friends watching in silence.
"Hey there, need something, boy?" he asks, his tone casual, but there's a slight edge to it. He looks about my age, maybe a year older. I almost roll my eyes at him but manage to hold back, keeping my expression neutral.
"Uh, no," I respond, my voice steady. "I just wanted to say hi. Since we might be seeing each other during training or in battle, I figured it’d be good to know you guys."
One of this boys friends scoffs at my words and glardes as if judging my clothes, but the one infront of me grins wider and sticks out a hand.
[[youre not wrong. well then im william otto]]
He says confidently, gesturing behind him to his three friends. "That's Hans, Karl, and Ahren. They're my friends."
The three boys behind him stand in perfect synchrony, their neatly swept-back black hair glinting in the light, each wearing the same warm blue coat. Hans has a sharp nose and thin lips that curl into a permanent, almost disdainful expression. Karl, on the other hand, is marked with a sprinkle of freckles across his face, his eyes darting around with barely concealed amusement. Ahren stands a little taller than the rest, his thick brows furrowed slightly in a way that makes him seem serious. He’s the tallest among them, casting a shadow over the others.
I smile faintly, nodding in their direction, but I'm met with nothing but cold, indifferent stares, or some avoidant glances. A frown pulls at my lips, a feeling of unease settling in my chest. "Uh, nice to meet you guys," I say, my voice sounding quieter than I intended.
One of the boys, introduced as Hans, speaks up, his tone dripping with judgment. "Where are your friends?" His arms fold across his chest as his piercing gaze bores into mine. I feel the pressure of it and find myself looking away.
"Uh... I'm here on my own," I mumble, hoping the conversation will move on.
Karl snickers under his breath, leaning toward Hans. I catch the soft words, "Or he don't got any... I mean, look at him."
I can't help but flinch slightly at the comment, but I quickly recover, swallowing the bitter taste of embarrassment that rises in my throat.
[[If you got something to say, say it to my face]]
[[Um nice to meet you all]]
[[....]]
The sound of a gunshot snaps everyone's attention to the front.Max nervously tugs the hem of his old-looking shirt as he blinks to the front at the man, i subtly shuffle closer to his side.
A man i recognize as Wilhelm Keitel stands there at the front, his green uniform adorned with several medals that catch the sunlight as he raises his gun. A thin wisp of smoke drifts up from the hole of the gun, and the sharp crack of the gunshot still rings in my ears.
His stern gaze sweeps across the group of young recruits, and the men around me go silent, save for the occasional shuffle of nervous feet. Keitel stands tall and imposes a sense of authority, his posture rigid and unyielding.
With a voice that cuts through the tension, he begins his introduction.
"Listen closely, Maggots," he says, his deep voice carrying across the room. "You are no longer children. You are soldiers of the Wehrmacht!, bound by duty to our Führer, to the Reich, and your comrades. The moment you stepped into this camp, you left behind your rights to your mind, body, and choices. From this day forward, you will follow orders without question, and you will fight for our land, our people, and for our one and only leader Adolf Hitler!, he will lead us to victory and you will follow!"
He pauses for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in, his eyes cold as they scan the room, his gaze drags each person's face.
"War is not a game." Keitel continues, his voice growing harder. "You will learn to fight, to endure, and to obey. Disobedience will not be tolerated! Failures will not be forgiven... The enemies of the Reich are many, and they are relentless. You will stand firm, for the survival of the fatherland depends on you. You will be tested, and some of you will break. But know this: those who endure will have the honor of serving with the greatest military force the world has ever seen."
Keitel lowers the gun and steps forward, the weight of his presence commands fear.
"Now," Keitel's voice cuts through the air like a whip, his eyes locking onto each soldier with an intensity that makes me want to look away, "you will follow the rules of the Wehrmacht. You will show respect to your superiors, your comrades, and the legacy of this great army. There is no room for weakness. You will bend the knee to no one but the Führer and you will carry out your orders without hesitation, without question."
He strides over closer glaring at each face as he barks out, "Leave now if you're too weak"
Everyone remains still, none of us daring to speak, each of us locked in our own thoughts, we glance around at each other wondering if anyone will. Keitel smiles, but it’s a smile that sends chills down the spine.
"Good," he says again, almost to himself. "Now get ready. Your training starts today!."
[["Welcome to the Wehrmacht, "]]The sharp crack of a gunshot snaps everyone's attention to the front.
Instinctively, my eyes dart around, searching for the blond boy from earlier, but he’s nowhere to be seen. His smaller frame is lost among the crowd of men and boys, making it impossible to spot him. Frustrated, I glance to my left where the rich boys stand. They rub their ears, wincing at the sound, their expressions a blend of annoyance and boredom as they turn their gaze toward the commotion.
A man i recognize as Wilhelm Keitel stands there, his green uniform adorned with several medals that catch the sunlight as he raises his gun. A thin wisp of smoke drifts up from the hole of the gun, and the sharp crack of the gunshot still rings in my ears.
His stern gaze sweeps across the group of young recruits, and the men around me go silent, save for the occasional shuffle of nervous feet. Keitel stands tall and imposes a sense of authority, his posture rigid and unyielding.
With a voice that cuts through the tension, he begins his introduction.
"Listen closely, Maggots," he says, his deep voice carrying across the room. "You are no longer children. You are soldiers of the Wehrmacht!, bound by duty to our Führer, to the Reich, and your comrades. The moment you stepped into this camp, you left behind your rights to your mind, body, and choices. From this day forward, you will follow orders without question, and you will fight for our land, our people, and for our one and only leader Adolf Hitler!, he will lead us to victory and you will follow!"
He pauses for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in, his eyes cold as they scan the room, his gaze drags each person's face.
"War is not a game." Keitel continues, his voice growing harder. "You will learn to fight, to endure, and to obey. Disobedience will not be tolerated! Failures will not be forgiven... The enemies of the Reich are many, and they are relentless. You will stand firm, for the survival of the fatherland depends on you. You will be tested, and some of you will break. But know this: those who endure will have the honor of serving with the greatest military force the world has ever seen."
Keitel lowers the gun and steps forward, the weight of his presence commands fear.
"Now," Keitel's voice cuts through the air like a whip, his eyes locking onto each soldier with an intensity that makes me want to look away, "you will follow the rules of the Wehrmacht. You will show respect to your superiors, your comrades, and the legacy of this great army. There is no room for weakness. You will bend the knee to no one but the Führer and you will carry out your orders without hesitation, without question."
He strides over closer glaring at each face as he barks out, "Leave now if you're too weak"
Everyone remains still, none of us daring to speak, each of us locked in our own thoughts, we glance around at each other wondering if anyone will. Keitel smiles, but it’s a smile that sends chills down the spine.
"Good," he says again, almost to himself. "Now get ready. Your training starts today!."
[["Welcome to the Wehrmacht, "]]I say it boldly, stepping forward toward Karl, my voice firm and unyielding. William’s eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised by my sudden movement, but Karl’s face flushes with anger, his nostrils flaring as he clenches his fists. Hans, standing beside him, tightens his jaw and glares at me, the muscles in his face twitching. And then there’s Ahren—he barely shows it, but I catch the small twitch of a smile that tugs at his lips. Something about it feels… almost approving.
Hans sneers at me, his voice dripping with contempt. "He’s saying you look poor, because you do."
I give him a sharp sneer in return, every inch of my body tensed as I hold his gaze. "Fick dich ins Knie," I snap, my words biting. "At least I’m not a stuck-up prick."
The air between us crackles with tension. Before I can say anything more, Hans makes a lunge toward me, his body surging forward in an angry blur—but Ahren’s hand shoots out, grabbing him by the collar of his coat and yanking him back with surprising strength.
William steps in front of me, his face hardening he faces hans. The others fall into a standoff of sorts, none of us saying anything for a few heavy moments, the tension feels thick in the air that i dont think the sharpest balde could cut.
Williams lips parting as if to defuse the situation, but he’s immediately cut off by a loud—
[[BANG!!!]]I clench my jaw, trying to suppress the frustration building in my chest. I don’t want to speak first, but William’s smirk only makes me more irritated. He shrugs at his friends’ whispered comments and looks back at me with a grin that feels more like a challenge than anything friendly. "Don’t mind them," he says with a casually. "So, what’s your name, boy?"
I don’t return the smile. I shrug, trying to make it look like I couldn’t care less. "I’m Lukas Weber."
Hans raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a slight sneer. "Weber? Never heard of that family," he comments, his tone dripping with mock curiosity. Karl, who’s standing just behind him, lets out a short laugh, the kind of laugh that’s more condescending than anything funny. He whispers just loud enough for me to hear, "No shit, he looks like he crawled out of a bin. Probably doesn’t even have one."
I can feel my cheeks burning, the sting of their words hitting harder than I want to admit. But I bite my lip and hold my ground, not letting them see how much it bothers me. Ahren, the tallest of them, doesn’t say a word. He’s just standing there, eyes half-lidded, and his hands shoved deep into his pockets like he’s waiting for us to finish, and couldnt care less. The kind of guy who doesn’t need to speak to make you feel smaller.
William notices Karl’s little comment and throws him a sharp look, but he doesn't stay mad for long. His grin comes back almost immediately. He turns his focus back to me, his expression shifting into something more playful. "So, Lukas Weber" he repeats, as if testing my name on his tongue. "You don’t look like much have you ever held a gun before?"
I almost want to laugh. They’re all clearly trying to get under my skin, but I’m not about to take the bate. Instead, I keep my gaze level with William’s, my jaw set tight. "no but i bet i could better then you," I mutter.
Williams grin falters at that and he opens his mouth to say something else, he’s cut off by a sharp sound, too loud and sudden to ignore—
[[BANG!!!]]
"Nice to meet you all," I mumble, my voice a bit quieter than I intended. I rub the back of my neck, trying to hide my nervousness, though it does little to help. Karl's eyes narrow as they scan me, his smirk barely hides the disgust he holds for someone like me. Hans stands stiffly next to him, arms crossed over his chest in a way that feels like a silent challenge, daring me to speak out of turn. Meanwhile, Ahren’s gaze seems far off, unfocused, like he’s already lost interest in the exchange.
William, ever the confident one, glances back at his friends with a look that suggests he's enjoying the tension. He looks back at me, his grin stretching a little wider.
“Totally. We're here because our fathers insisted. We have a duty to support our country. To serve the Fatherland. We're men now, after all."
His voice is full of bravado, but there's something underneath it, a sense of uncertainty, as if he's trying to convince himself just as much as me. I try to match his energy, but it doesn’t feel natural.
I nod, my gaze shifting from William to the other boys, trying to keep my composure. "Hm, yeah. I’m here to fight for the cause too. To protect what’s ours. I mean, we're doing what’s right, right?”
Karl snorts under his breath, clearly unimpressed, his eyes glinting with a kind of malicious amusement. "Right? You really think so?" He steps closer, his voice lowering. “Do you even know what this cause is about, weber? or are you just here for the free food?”
His words tempt me to punch hes teeth out, but I refuse to give them a reason tto get under my skin. "I—" I hesitate, unsure. His gaze is relentless, pushing me.
Karl smirks, sensing the crack in my resolve. "pfft as if you have a choice like us?, You’re just here because it’s what’s expected of you. You think you’re a hero, little boy?, but you’re nothing more than a tool, a weapon for the people above. Nothing more."
My teeth grind together as his words sink in. The anger bubbles in my chest, but it's mixed with something else, a fear I can’t shake.
I swallow hard, but before I can answer, Ahren speaks up, his voice surprisingly calm amidst the tension. "Enough," he mutters, though it's unclear whether he’s addressing Karl or me. His eyes flicker briefly to me, but he doesn’t say anything else. He just stands there, his hands tucked in his pockets, the slightest hint of disinterest in his posture.
I’m left with a strange silence hanging between us. It’s not comforting—just heavy.
William glances over at me, his smile still in place, though it’s strained now. “Don’t mind Karl,” he says. "He’s just... like that. We’re all here for the same reason, right?”
I nod, though the words feel hollow. "Right," I say, though it doesn't feel true anymore.
Karl smirks, shaking his head, but doesn't push any further. Hans, meanwhile, seems to have little interest in whatever’s going on. His arms are still crossed, but his attention seems split between me and the scene unfolding around us.
I want to speak, to say something to push back—but I can’t find the words. The doubt still lingers, gnawing at me, making it hard to look anyone in the eye for too long.
I swallow again, forcing myself to speak. “So, uh...what do you guys think about Der Führer?”, hans shrugs while karl smirks, william looks at Ahren who stiffens at my words.
I regret it as soon as it leaves my mouth. It’s too personal, i shouldnt have asked the silence that follows my question feels sufficating..
karl breaks the silence as it seems he cant keeps his mouth shut for the life of him, "well hitler is our leader and hes guiding us to victory!" he says confidently. Han nods along to karls words hes expression blank i cant tell if he doesnt care or if he doesnt wanna say, willam keeps hes smile and nods along like hans does.Ahren's gaze goes down staying silent as his posture gets more stiff, it speaks louder then any words.
my lips part to say my feelings but i get cut off by a loud-
[[BANG!!!]]
The sharp crack of the gunshot snaps everyone's attention to the front. I flinch, instinctively covering my ears as a high-pitched ringing fills them. William and his friends do the same, wincing together.
A man i recognize as Wilhelm Keitel stands at the front, his green uniform adorned with several medals that catch the sunlight as he raises his gun. A thin wisp of smoke drifts up from the hole of the gun, and the sharp crack of the gunshot still rings in my ears.
His stern gaze sweeps across the group of young recruits, and the men around me go silent, save for the occasional shuffle of nervous feet. Keitel stands tall and imposes a sense of authority, his posture rigid and unyielding.
With a voice that cuts through the tension, he begins his introduction.
"Listen closely, Maggots," he says, his deep voice carrying across the room. "You are no longer children. You are soldiers of the Wehrmacht!, bound by duty to our Führer, to the Reich, and your comrades. The moment you stepped into this camp, you left behind your rights to your mind, body, and choices. From this day forward, you will follow orders without question, and you will fight for our land, our people, and for our one and only leader Adolf Hitler!, he will lead us to victory and you will follow!"
He pauses for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in, his eyes cold as they scan the room, his gaze drags each person's face.
"War is not a game." Keitel continues, his voice growing harder. "You will learn to fight, to endure, and to obey. Disobedience will not be tolerated! Failures will not be forgiven... The enemies of the Reich are many, and they are relentless. You will stand firm, for the survival of the fatherland depends on you. You will be tested, and some of you will break. But know this: those who endure will have the honor of serving with the greatest military force the world has ever seen."
Keitel lowers the gun and steps forward, the weight of his presence commands fear.
"Now," Keitel's voice cuts through the air like a whip, his eyes locking onto each soldier with an intensity that makes me want to look away, "you will follow the rules of the Wehrmacht. You will show respect to your superiors, your comrades, and the legacy of this great army. There is no room for weakness. You will bend the knee to no one but the Führer and you will carry out your orders without hesitation, without question."
He strides over closer glaring at each face as he barks out, "Leave now if you're too weak"
everyone remains still, none of us daring to speak, each of us locked in our own thoughts, we glance around at each other wondering if anyone will. Keitel smiles, but it’s a smile that sends chills down the spine.
"Good," he says again, almost to himself. "Now get ready. Your training starts today!."
"Welcome to the Wehrmacht "He blinks at me, caught off guard, and for a moment, the confidence in his expression falters.
"What?" he asks, his tone somewhere between surprise and curiosity.
I swallow hard, feeling my face heat up. Did I just say that out loud? I scramble to recover, but there’s no going back now. "I mean... uh... your eyes. They’re just... blue. Like, pretty...," I stammer, each word feeling more ridiculous than the last.
He stares at me for a long moment, then laughs—a soft, genuine sound that makes my chest tighten even more. "Well, uh, thanks?" he says, his smile widening. "Usually, people avoid me."
I shrug, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "Guess I’m not like most people."
"Well, you’re pretty too." He blinks at me again, his smile faltering slightly like he’s unsure if he said the right thing.
My face burns hotter, and my stomach flips in a way that has nothing to do with hunger. "What?" I mumble, caught completely off guard.
"You’re pretty too," he repeats, quieter this time, almost like he’s testing the words.
I let out a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the weight of his words. "I… uh… thanks, I guess?" My voice cracks, and I inwardly cringe, but he doesn’t seem to notice—or care.
Maxwell gives a small shrug, his grin growing. "I guess neither of us is like most people."
I match his grin. "Well, I’m Lukas Weber."
He holds out his hand, and I quickly take it. His hand feels soft, even if it’s a bit dirty. My bigger hand wraps around his, and for a brief second, it feels like the chaos around us fades.
Maxwell’s blue eyes light up with a smile. "I’m Maxwell."
[[BANG!|Bang bang]]The sound of a gunshot snaps everyone's attention to the front. disapointment stirrs in my chest when Maxs hand slips out of mine, My gaze instinctively follows his, drawn to the front.
A man i recognize as Wilhelm Keitel stands there at the front, his green uniform adorned with several medals that catch the sunlight as he raises his gun. A thin wisp of smoke drifts up from the hole of the gun, and the sharp crack of the gunshot still rings in my ears.
His stern gaze sweeps across the group of young recruits, and the men around me go silent, save for the occasional shuffle of nervous feet. Keitel stands tall and imposes a sense of authority, his posture rigid and unyielding.
With a voice that cuts through the tension, he begins his introduction.
"Listen closely, Maggots," he says, his deep voice carrying across the room. "You are no longer children. You are soldiers of the Wehrmacht!, bound by duty to our Führer, to the Reich, and your comrades. The moment you stepped into this camp, you left behind your rights to your mind, body, and choices. From this day forward, you will follow orders without question, and you will fight for our land, our people, and for our one and only leader Adolf Hitler!, he will lead us to victory and you will follow!"
He pauses for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in, his eyes cold as they scan the room, his gaze drags each person's face.
"War is not a game." Keitel continues, his voice growing harder. "You will learn to fight, to endure, and to obey. Disobedience will not be tolerated! Failures will not be forgiven... The enemies of the Reich are many, and they are relentless. You will stand firm, for the survival of the fatherland depends on you. You will be tested, and some of you will break. But know this: those who endure will have the honor of serving with the greatest military force the world has ever seen."
Keitel lowers the gun and steps forward, the weight of his presence commands fear.
"Now," Keitel's voice cuts through the air like a whip, his eyes locking onto each soldier with an intensity that makes me want to look away, "you will follow the rules of the Wehrmacht. You will show respect to your superiors, your comrades, and the legacy of this great army. There is no room for weakness. You will bend the knee to no one but the Führer and you will carry out your orders without hesitation, without question."
He strides over closer glaring at each face as he barks out, "Leave now if you're too weak"
Everyone remains still, none of us daring to speak, each of us locked in our own thoughts, we glance around at each other wondering if anyone will. Keitel smiles, but it’s a smile that sends chills down the spine.
"Good," he says again, almost to himself. "Now get ready. Your training starts today!."
[["Welcome to the Wehrmacht, "]]//...8 YEARS AGO//
I wipe the sweat from my forehead, my aching back reminding me how long I've been at this. I move the way i used to see my father move. The soil feels gritty under my fingers as I make my way down the final row. My hands throb, sore from the day's work, i crack my knuckles feeling a brief satisfaction.
I glance out at the farm. Its small, with a little chicken coop not too far to the side. The boundary fences are clear, and a bit small but it will do. The faint scent of cow manure fills my nostrils, mixed with earthy smells with newly turned soil.
The chickens cluck and scatter around my feet, pecking at the ground for worms. One of them—a plump, white troublemaker—is mine. I named him <<textbox "$chickenname" "Fleagle">>, mostly cuz he's always stealing the others feed.
I chuckle softly watching him steal a worm form my moma's favorate chicken, Schatz.Shes a golden brown chicken that lays the tastiest eggs, mama always gives her more attention then the others.
The sun now is low on the horizon, painting the sky orange and gold. Behind me the old brown farmhouse weakly reflect a lantern light from inside.
My mama breaks the stillness with her voice calling out the window, "<<print $firstName>>!, come inside—it's getting dark!"
There's warmth in her words that makes me smile. I throw one last glance at the chickens coop and then turn back toward thehouse. i tiredly drop the dirty field hoe and head to the house.
It was a very long day, but making mama happy makes it all worth it.
[[Go inside]]As I walk in, the comforting aroma of warm cabbage soup greets me, enveloping me like a cozy hug. It's like the scent knows just how to soothe my tired muscles.
I kick off my muddy boots by the door, and the old wooden floor groans under my weight. The coolness feels refreshing against my sore feet, Mama's soft humming drifts from the kitchen to he living area.
A squeal rings out, before I can even take another step inside, Anton runs to me. his little feet pattering softly as he drops the cans of beans he was playing with on our little kitchen table. He clings to my legs with sticky hands.
"<<print $firstName>>! You’re back!" he squeals, clinging to my legs so tight. His face is bright and excited, his wide grin exposes a missing tooth in the front.
Smile and [[kneel down]] to hug him
Frown and [[nudge him away]]
Tiredly huff and [[scold him]]
I smiled back even if I'm exhausted. I drop to my knees and pull Anton into a tight hug, his little warmth pressed against me. His messy brown hair smells like soap, a refreshing switch from the dirt I've been diging all day. I lean back from our hug to study him, speaking low.
"Did you help Mama today?"
Anton's face lights up, and he nods. "Yeah! I helped Mama clean the table and fold the blankets. We got to play a game afterwards!"
He is so happy, it makes me smile wider. I ruffle his hair with my hand and he laughs, slapping away my hand.
My stomach growls at that moment so i gently pull back and make my way further in our living room. I sit down on the blanket beside our little, battered table, Anton follows me, his bare feet thudding on the wooden floor.
I sit cross-legged, stealing a piece of stale bread from the table. It crunches loudly in my mouth, but I am too hungry to care. Anton does the same as me, grabbing his piece of bread, but I notice him wince when his jaw struggles with the hard crust.
Frowning softly I tear off the softer part of my bread and offer it to him. "Here," I say, trading it for the harder piece.
His face lights up as he accepts the gift, cheerfully chewing on it. For a moment, we eat in comfortable silence, but he cuts it short when he looks up at me with his big brown eyes.
"Did you find anything cool today?"
I shrug, glancing to him. "Sorry, Anton. Nothing today—just some worms, and <<print $chickenname>> beat me to them."
Anton pouts for a minute before he shrugs and grins. "It's all right. <<print $chickenname>> was probably hungry. Did he at least share with Schatz?"
I smile lightly and nod even though it's untrue. He smiles at my response and continues munching on his bread.
I crunch on my own again and let my gaze wander around the room. They fall on the cough medicine bottle sitting on the windowsill, and a knot of discomfort appears in my stomach. I am reminded of Mama's coughing—that sound that's been way too frequent in the house for weeks on end now.
I glance back at Anton who's still sitting cross-legged beside me, now contentedly pushing an empty tin can back and forth on the table with one hand. I clear my throat gently to get his attention and lower my voice to a whisper.
"Hey, Anton?"
He looks up at me questioningly. "Hm?"
I smile at him softly, attempting to sound casual. "Did Mama cough a lot today?"
Anton blinks, his expression altering slightly as he thinks about it. A moment after, he nods, his voice deeper now. "Yeah. she was coughing a lot. She kept touching her chest and head."
A frown tugs at my mouth at his words as I feel my chest tighten at Anton's answer.I glance down at the stale bread in my hand as my hunger disappears. Anton quickly noticed and tugs on my sleeve to get my attention, he blinks up staring at me worried. "What's wrong with mama,<<print $firstName>>? why isn't she getting better?"
"she will. look, don't worry about it, okay?" I say, my voice sounding pitiful even to myself. "She'll be all right. Mama's strong, okay?"I force a pretend smile on my lips attempting to comfort him as well as myself.
Anton hesitates, checking my face for reassurance. Gradually, he nods, though concern does not fully disappear from his eyes. "Okay. if you say so," he whispers back softly.
I reach over and mess with his hair once more, that gets him smiling again, which brightens my own mood. but the knot in my chest lingers when I glance over at the cough medicine on the windowsill.
Anton and I glance snap our attention to our right as the creaking of Mama's footsteps on the wooden floor breaks the silence. Her steps creak from the kitchen to the living room as she makes her way over.
[[I smile as mama comes in the room]]I nudge Anton away from me, but the little 7-year-old does not take it well. His pout worsens, and he playfully scowls at me. With a begrudging demeanor, he lets me go, and his arms fall to his sides.
"Hugg me, <<print $firstName>>!" Anton whines in his nasally and high-pitched voice like he's trying to persuade me.
He clutches the hem of my shirt in his little hands and holds on for dear life, despite being half my size he makes he wobble slightly. my eyes-roll but can't help smiling.
I pull his hand from me again, moving to stand by the little table not too far from our fireplace.
The fire pops in the corner of the room, and the scent of soup still hangs in the air from the kitchen, combined with the earthy smell of wood and warmth. I sit cross-legged on the faded blanket laid out on the ground, fingers sore from working the soil, but watching Anton trudge behind me sporting his characteristic scowl more than compensates.
I grab a chunk of stale bread from the table, ripping off a little piece and shoving it into my mouth. Anton, who is still looming beside me decides to sit down on the blanket next to me, his brow furrowed and his arms folded across his chest in mock aggravation. His large brown eyes follow the bread in my hands.
"Don't devour it all! I want some as well!" he pouts, flashing me his best puppy eyes.
His lower lip juts out just enough to make him appear even younger than he is. I cannot help but laugh, entertained by how dramatic he is being. I rip off another piece of the bread and hold it out to him, shaking my head in a smile. "Don't be a brat, Anton. you wouldn't want Der Kettenmann to come to take you away"
Anton takes the bread from my hand with a grin for a second before his little black eyebrows crease at my words. "Who's the Kettenmann?"
I suppress a smile that threatened to erupt on my face and I clear my throat attempting to be serious,"You never heard of Der Kettenmann?"
that earns me a little head shake so i continue, "He's a tall man, he has big chains all over him and a big brown sack over his sholder; he takes naughty children that don't listen to their mama's and papa."
Anton rolls his eyes and folds his little arms again, glaring at me, "Youre lying and i am good!" he declares with his whiny voice.
I arch my brow as I take another bite of bread, "Are you? I guess we'll see, legend says he uses his chains to grab children, if he hears you being bad, he'll come for you. you can hear him coming by the sound of his chains dragging on the floors and the screams of the naughty children in his sack"
Anton watches me wide eyed. His bottom lip quivers softly, and his hands grip the hem of his shirt nervously.
I continue, my voice dropping to a whisper as i lean in, "he sneaks into homes of naughty children and-"
I sneak my left hand behind him and grab his back sharply making him jolt."Snatches them away!"
Anton emits a high-pitched scream and leaps into me. "Noo!!" he wails as he holds on to me, frightened.
I chuckle and hug him tightly with my arms, as my chuckles fade I stroke a hand through his hair. "It's okay, Anton. Der Kettermann isn't real."
I pause dramatically and squint at him, "or is he?"
He pulls away a little with his hands still grasping my shirts front, his big brown eyes glaring at me tearfully and his bottom lip jutting out, "You're so mean!"
That amuses me, and I ruffle his hair, "Hey, I'm just telling so you know to behave, or else youll meet the Kettermann"
Antons' gaze drifts to the side in consideration, and then he breathes out and pouts. "Alright, I'll be the goodest good. he won't get me then, will he?"
[["who wont get you?"]]I sigh and frown, "Anton im tired, get off, your hands are dirty", I scold him but dont have the heart to pull him off.
Anton pouts and steps away on his own, "Sorry,<<print $firstName>>" he mumbles disappointed.
I ruffle his messy hair as I pass him, heading over to our small, battered brown table. The blanket on the floor serves as my seat as I sit down with a grone. My stomach growls loudly so I grab a chunk of stale bread from the table, taking a bite out of it tiredly.
Anton pitters on over to my side and drops down beside me on the blanket.
He sits cross-legged, playing with the hem of his shirt, his large brown eyes darting to me.
After a moment of comfortable silence, Anton pulls on my sleeve, "<<print $firstName>>, did any of the chicken eggs hatch yet?" he questions blinking up at me with his large brown eyes.
I turn away from him as I'm still chewing. "i dunno. why didn't you look for yourself?"
Anton's face puckered up, "I//wanted// to but Mama said it was too cold outside and didn't let me".
I ignore him as he continues his whiny rant folding his little arms. "it's not fair, you get you go outside all the time. I'm a big boy I should be able to go too!".
I roll my eyes annoyed, "Mama just doesn't want you to get sick, brat".
Anton puffs his cheeks, "i won't!! it's not fair!"
I sigh as my patience wears thin and throw him a sharp look, "keep that up, and ill let Der Kettenmann take you away" I growl to him making my voice threatening.
Anton pauses mid-whine and tilts his head to me confused, "the Ketterman?"
I nod as I crunch on the harder side of my bread, "Yeah. he's a tall man that steals naughty little kids like you with his long chains, he'll tie you up and drag you away so fast that mama won't even notice"
Anton's bottom lip trembles softly as he stares at me wide-eyed, "if he has chains. Mama would hear him!" he says without much confidence.
I wag a finger at him "Nu-uh, not if Mama's busy"
Anton's lip wobbles more clearly, "b-but you'd notice!" he says desperately as his eyes tear up.
I snort with a smirk, "Yeah? so?, I wouldn't save you" Anton's eyes grow more glossy and his breathing picks up, a tear slips down his cheek
"B-but--"
I hold up a finger quieting him and lean in to glare at him, my voice lowers to a whisper "don't cry and let me finish.//Der kettenmann// only takes naughty little kids, if you quit being a brat he won't come for you, But.if you continue this...." I let the threat hang in the air for a moment.
Anton gulps nervously as his small hands clench the material of his pants. "I'll be good, I promise. If I'm good he won't get me, right?" he whispers
[["who wont get you?"|who wont get you??]]
Anton and I both look up when we hear Mama’s voice.
She steps out of the kitchen, carrying a small tray with three bowls of steaming soup. The smell hits me instantly—warm cabbage, a little bit of broth. Simple, familiar. It fills the whole room, wrapping around me like a blanket.
I can’t help but smile when I see her. She looks tired—more tired than usual. Her curly brown hair, usually pulled back neatly, is loose around her shoulders, a little messy. Her eyes still have that warmth to them, but the dark circles underneath give her away. She’s been sick for weeks, and it shows. Her skin, usually golden, looks dull. Her nose is red from her cold.
My smile fades a little, but Mama’s doesn’t. It never does.
She sets a bowl in front of each of us, then leans down and presses a kiss to Anton’s forehead, then mine. Her touch is warm. I close my eyes for just a second, letting it ground me. When I open them, she’s already sitting across from us, setting the tray aside, placing spoons next to our bowls.
She gives us a look. “So? What were you two whispering about?” Her voice is light, teasing. She turns to Anton. “Hmm?”
Anton freezes. His cheeks puff out a little, like he’s thinking way too hard. Then he sneaks a glance at me, hoping I’ll save him. But before I can even react, he blurts out—way too loudly—“Uh… chickens! We were talking about chickens!”
Mama laughs, soft and a little scratchy. “Chickens?” She raises an eyebrow. “That’s what has you so jumpy?”
Anton fidgets, gripping his spoon like his life depends on it. “I—I not! I was just… uh… talking about <<print $chickenname>>!”
I bite back a grin, dunking my spoon into the soup. Honestly, I’m impressed. He usually tattles about everything.
Mama just shakes her head, still smiling. She wraps her hands around her bowl like she’s trying to soak up the heat. “Well, I’m glad you two are getting along. Now eat before it gets cold.”
Anton doesn’t need to be told twice. He dives in, shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth without a second thought. The earlier tension? Completely gone. I take a bite, too. The broth is thin, the cabbage a little chewy, but after the day I’ve had, it might as well be a feast.
Still, something nags at me.
Mama lifts a spoonful of soup but stops, watching me. And for a split second, I see it. The exhaustion. The way her shoulders slump just a little, the way her fingers tremble before she steadies them.
I want to ask if she’s okay.
but Instead, I just smile.
I rip off a piece of bread, dipping it into my soup. Mama tilts her head slightly. “How was your day, <<print $firstName>>? Did Schatz lay any eggs yet?”
I shake my head and look down at our bowls. That’s when I noticed—there’s more cabbage in mine than in hers. “..No eggs, Mama,” I mumble.
She nods softly, taking a small bite of bread. The silence that follows is heavy.
I poke at my soup with my spoon, my mind elsewhere. I should ask how she’s feeling. I should say something.
But then my eyes flick to her bowl again. The broth is thinner then mine. She must’ve watered it down.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because I already know what she’ll say before i ask it.
She’ll just smile. Tell me not to worry.
So instead, I take another slurp of my soup.
[[Anton finishes his soup]]
With a loud crunch, Anton bites into his bread, then wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.Finishing, he sets his spoon down, he blinks between Mama and me, oblivious to the weight of the silence hanging over the room.
He looks to mama and pushes his bowl away. “Mama,” he pipes up, his small voice breaking through the stillness, “can I see the chickens tomorrow? I promise I’ll be super careful!”
Mama offers him a tired smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She shakes her head gently. “It’s too cold, [[mein Schatz]].”
Anton pouts but shrugs, like he already expected the answer. He grabs the empty can beside him and starts rolling it against his side of the table, humming softly to himself while Mama and I continue to eat. She turns to her left and coughs into her sleeve again. It’s deeper this time, harsher, and it twists something tight in my stomach.
A few weeks ago, Mama and I went to the doctor. He said it was just a strong cold and sold her a tiny glass bottle of medicine—hardly bigger than my thumb. It cost more than we could afford, and yet, it hasn’t done a thing. She spent beyond our budget for something that didn’t even help. I know it frustrates her, but she won’t admit it. She just keeps smiling, pretending everything is fine.
I set my spoon down carefully. “Mama.”
She looks over at me, her expression unreadable.
I take a breath. “We should go back to the doctor tomorrow.”
She frowns, staring down at her bowl, and I sigh, pressing on. “Mama, we have to.”
She shakes her head softly. “[[Liebling]], I’m alright. My medicine isn’t finished yet, and besides…” She glances at Anton, then back at me. “Where would we leave him?”
I huff and say. “We can take him with us.”
Mama shakes her head again, firmer this time. The look she gives me makes my chest tighten in frustration. I frown, staring down at my soup.
I know money is the real reason. We don’t have much, and she doesn’t want to use more on herself.
Anton hand has stopped playing with his can, now instead quietly stares at it in his hand.
“Please, Mama,” I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “We can’t keep pretending. It’s not working.”
Mama’s lips pressed together, her gaze dropping to her soup as though it might offer her an answer. The room feels colder, the air thick with unspoken thoughts.
After a long pause, she sighs. “Fine. Tomorrow we can visit him.” She looks at me, her eyes tired but resigned. “We’ll take Anton with us.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Thank you, Mama.”
Her fingers play with the edge of her bowl, her expression distant. “We’ll figure it out. Somehow.”my chest squeezes seeing mama like this.
[[Next|bedtime]]
<span style="font-size: 24px;">Definition = Its a pet name and means "My Treasure" in german</span>
[[Go back to story|Anton finishes his soup]]Mama’s voice comes from the doorway, gentle but firm.
Anton and I both almost jump.
We look up to see her standing there, balancing a small tray with three steaming bowls of soup. The familiar scent of cabbage and weak broth fills the room, wrapping around us like something warm and familiar.
I freeze under her stare. She looks at Anton first, her lips pressing together as she takes in his watery eyes, then shifts her attention to me. Her expression sharpens just a little.
I rub the back of my neck and flash a guilty smile. Doesn’t work. Mama doesn’t let things go that easy.
She steps forward, setting each bowl down carefully before lowering herself into the chair across from us.
Even exhausted, she’s still beautiful.
Her dark brown curls, the same shade as Anton’s, fall loose over her shoulders, messier than usual. Her deep brown eyes still have that warmth, but the dark shadows underneath them tell a different story. Her skin, normally golden, looks a little pale, and the tip of her nose is pink from the lingering sickness that refuses to leave her alone.
My chest tightens and i shrug to her.
Mama doesnt push for answers but reaches for the stale loaf of bread in the middle of the table, breaking off pieces like she always does. She hands one to Anton, then gives him a soft look.
“Why are you crying [[mein Schatz|Def]]?" she asks, voice soft.
Anton blinks up at her, his glistening eyes wide. He glances at me for a moment, as if weighing whether to betray me.
[[Glare at him]]
[[Dont meet his gaze]]
<span style="font-size: 24px;">Definition = Its a pet name and means "My Treasure" in german</span>
[[Go back to story|who wont get you??]]I glare at Anton, silently urging him to shut up. His bottom lip quivers as he glances back at Mama, his voice barely above a whisper. “Nothing, Mama…” he mumbles.
Mama raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. Her gaze flicks to me, sharp and expectant.
“<<print $firstName>>?” she asks, her soft voice carrying that unspoken demand for the truth.
I shrug, deliberately avoiding her eyes as I take another sip of my soup. “I don’t know why he’s being a baby,” I mutter, the words harsher than I intend.
Anton’s eyes widen with offense, and his little voice whines, “I’m not a baabbyyy!” He drags out the word dramatically and looks at me with his big eyes.
I shoot him another glare, and sure enough, his lip wobbles again. Tears spill over, his sniffles filling the quiet room. Mama’s stern gaze lands back on me, and I quickly lower my head, pretending to focus on my soup. My spoon stirs the cabbage weakly, the broth swirling in slow circles.
“Come here, [[mein Herz]],” Mama says gently, patting the floor beside her.
Anton hesitates glancing at me, but moves away clutching his piece of stale bread to his chest. I sigh and push his bowl across the tabel toward him as he curls into Mama’s side, chewing his bread in sulky silence.
She wipes his tears with warm hands, fingers threading through his messy curls as she murmurs something soothing. Then she glances at me. I don’t need words to know she’s disappointed.
I roll my eyes and sip my soup. He’s such a baby...
Mama’s voice is softer now. “How were the chickens today?”
I shrug, chewing a piece of cabbage. She watches me closely, her hand still running through Anton’s hair as he eats quietly.
Her frown deepens. “And the crops? Have we grown anything yet?”
I shrug again, slurping my soup from my spoon, my eyes fixed on the bowl.
Mama sighs, her tone shifting to something more serious. “<<print $firstName>>?”
I don’t answer. My gaze stays locked on the half-empty bowl in front of me.
She sets her spoon down gently, studying me. The concern in her face makes my chest tighten, my mouth dry with guilt.
“[[mein liebling|ref]],” she starts softly, her voice filled with warmth. “Please, tell me what’s bothering you.”
"......."
[["Im sorry Mama, im just scared"]]
[["Mama...are you feeling better?"]]
[["Mama, I dont wanna talk right now. IM tired."]]
I stare into my soup, stirring it slowly with my spoon, pretending to not notice Mama’s glance or the way Anton sniffles beside me.
Anton rubs his eyes, his little fists clumsy, then looks up at Mama. His voice is small, trembling. “Mama… does Der Kettenmann exist?”
Mama’s brows lift, her head tilting slightly. “Kettenmann?” she repeats, her voice careful.
Anton nods, hunching his shoulders. Mama’s gaze flicks to me immediately, and I brace myself. I keep my eyes on my soup and lick my spoon, hoping she’ll let it slide.
She sighs, quiet but knowing, and turns back to Anton, offering him a soft smile. “No, [[mein Herz|heart]], he’s not real."
Anton doesn’t relax. He shifts, his small fingers gripping his sleeve. “But… what if he is, mama? <<print $firstName>> said he comes after bad kids. What if he thinks I’m bad?”
Mama chuckles, warm and familiar, the sound filling the tiny room. “Come here, Anton.”
He hesitates before crawling around the short table and shuffling over. I stay where I am, pretending to be invested in my soup. Mama scoops Anton into her lap, her arms wrapping around his little frame as she rocks him gently.
“If he was real?,” she murmurs, smoothing a hand over his hair, “he wouldn’t take you. You’re the best boy in the world.”
Anton blinks up at her, still not convinced. “But what if he does, Mama?”
Mama presses a kiss to his forehead, her fingers ruffling through his curls. “Then I’ll kick him out of our house, mein Schatz.”
Anton giggles, though the worry still lingers in his eyes. “You can’t kick him out, Mama! <<print $firstName>> said he’s tall, with chains!”
Mama purses her lips, pretending to think. Then, with a playful glint in her eye, she wiggles her fingers near his sides. “Then I’ll throw my shoes at him and chase him away with the broom!”
Anton shrieks with laughter, kicking his legs as she tickles him. “Nooo, Mama, nooo!”
I watch them, something twisting inside me. The warmth of it, the closeness—it’s nice. And it makes my jaw tighten from a bitter-jealous feeling spreading through me.
Mama catches my eyes. Her lips curl, one brow arching in amusement.
“Kettenmann, hmm?” she teases, her voice light but knowing.
That makes me snap back from my feelings, my face heats up. I shift, finally putting my spoon down. “I… it’s just a story, mama” I mumble, avoiding her gaze.
Mama shakes her head, smiling. “And where did you hear such a thing, hmm?” She pats the space beside her. “Come here.”
I groan dramatically, rolling my eyes, but I don’t resist. My body moves on its own, carrying me toward her as i get up and move around the table.
When im near she pulls me in without hesitation, wrapping me up alongside Anton in her lap. His little legs tuck neatly into her lap, while mine dangle awkwardly off the side. But she doesn’t care. She holds me as if im still small.
Her arms are warm and steady, and when she presses a kiss to my forehead, my stubbornness crumbles.
Anton giggles, his earlier fear already forgotten. And before I can think, Im smiling too.
For just a moment, everything feels right.
[["i love you, Mama"]]
[["Mama, this is so embarrassing"]]
[["....."]]<span style="font-size: 24px;">Definition = it means "My heart" in german </span>
[[Go back to story|Glare at him]]A few weeks ago, Mama and I went to the doctor. He told us it was just a strong cold and sold her a tiny glass bottle of medicine—no bigger than my thumb. It cost more than we had, more than we could afford, and yet it hasn’t done a damn thing. She spent beyond our budget for nothing. And still, she keeps acting like everything is fine.
i clear my throat softly, "mama..are you feeliing better?"
Mama blinks at me surprised, her hand pausing in Anton’s hair. For a second, I thought she might lie again, like she always does.
But instead, she lets out a quiet sigh. “I feel… the same.”
Not better. Not worse. Just the same.
It’s not the answer I wanted, but it’s the one I expected. I press my lips together and look at my soup, stirring aimlessly.
She reaches over, placing a warm hand over mine. “Don’t worry about me, [[mein Liebling|000]].”
But I do. I always do.
Anton snuggles closer to her, resting his head against her side. He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he’s listening. He’s worried, too.
I glance up at Mama, my stomach twisting. I don’t believe her. Not really. But I nod anyway.
[[Next|bedtime]]
A few weeks ago, Mama and I went to the doctor. He said it was just a strong cold and sold her a tiny glass bottle of medicine—hardly bigger than my thumb. It cost more than we could afford, and yet, it hasn’t done a thing. She spent beyond our budget for something that didn’t even help. I know it frustrates her, but she won’t admit it. She just keeps smiling, pretending everything is fine.
I let out a quiet sigh and glance up at her. “I’m sorry, Mama… I’m just scared.”
She starts to respond. “Scared of wha—” but a cough racks her body before she can finish. She presses her sleeve to her mouth, her whole frame trembling as she struggles to catch her breath.
My stomach twists. “Mama, maybe we should go back to the doctor tomorrow. I got most of the farm work done today.”
She shakes her head, clearing her throat before speaking. “I’m fine, <<print $firstName>>. Truly.”
I clench my jaw. “Mama, please.” My voice wavers slightly. “I’m scared.”
Her hand stills where it had been stroking Anton’s curls. For a moment, she just looks at me, her expression unreadable. Anton keeps his head down, spooning his soup quietly, pretending not to listen.
Mama exhales softly. “…Where would we leave Anton?”
I shake my head. “We’ll take him with us.” I sound more desperate than I mean to. “We’ll all go together.”
She watches me for a long moment before finally sighing. “Alright… we’ll go tomorrow morning.”
The tension in my shoulders eases, and I turn back to my soup, feeling just a little bit lighter.
[[next|bedtime]]
I huff, crossing my arms. “Mama, I don’t want to talk right now.”
She opens her mouth to say something, gentle as always, but I cut her off before she can.
“I’m tired,” I snap, keeping my gaze locked on my bowl as I take another sip.
Mama presses her lips together. She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t push. Just looks at me for a long moment before turning back to Anton, her fingers running absently through his curls. After a while, she whispers, barely above a breath, “…Okay.”
Silence stretches between us again, thick and uneasy. I try to focus on my soup, but my mind keeps drifting—to the chores waiting for me tomorrow, the damn chickens, the field, the seeds we still need to buy at the market.
Then Mama coughs again.
It’s a deep, rough one this time, the kind that makes her whole body shake. She presses her sleeve to her mouth, like she always does, and when she pulls it away, she exhales a quiet, “Sorry.”
My grip tightens around my spoon.
A few weeks ago, Mama and I went to the doctor. He told us it was just a strong cold and sold her a tiny glass bottle of medicine—no bigger than my thumb. It cost more than we had, more than we could afford, and yet it hasn’t done a damn thing. She spent beyond our budget for nothing. And still, she keeps acting like everything is fine.
I set my spoon down, jaw tight. “We’re going to the doctor tomorrow.”
Mama looks up, a flicker of surprise in her tired eyes. “Hmm? Why?”
I stare at her. “For you.”
She shakes her head and gives me that same soft, reassuring smile, like I’m the one who needs comforting. “I’m alright, [[mein Liebling|lib]].”
I feel something twist inside me at the name. It used to make me feel safe. Now it just makes me angry, like for hell's sake im not a baby.
“Don’t call me that,” I mutter, jaw clenched. “And I said we’re going, so we are.”
Mama blinks at me, caught off guard by my tone. I can see it—she wants to argue, wants to tell me it’s fine, that we don’t have the money, that we have other things to worry about. But I don’t give her the chance.
I push back from the table, leaving my half-finished soup, and walk away before she can say another word.
[[Next|bedtime]]
<span style="font-size: 24px;"> Definition = it means "My heart" in german </span>
[[Go back to story|Dont meet his gaze]]I bury my face in her sholder, the warmth of her clothes pressing against me as I try to hide how flushed I feel. Anton’s is still tucked in her lap, clutching her sleeve, but I dont focus on anything besides the steady beat of her heartbeat and the comfort of her arms around me.
“Mama, this is so embarrassing,” I mutter into her sholder, my voice muffled and shaky.
Mama lets out a soft, gentle laugh, like she’s heard this a thousand times before. Her fingers move through my hair, a quiet gesture that makes my heart ache.
“Embarrassing? Why?” she asks, her tone light, I can hear that familiar warmth in it—like she’s holding something back, but not in a bad way.
I shift in her lap, trying to avoid her gaze, but it feels like I can’t escape. “I don’t know… It just is,” I say, my voice quiet. I feel too old for this, like I should have outgrown needing her like this.
But Mama doesn’t let me go, She doesn’t get upset, She just holds me tighter, her hand sliding to my hair.
“I just love you so much, [[mein Liebling]],” the words soft.
I don’t say anything for a moment, feeling the weight of everything I haven't said and never could say. I want to tell her about everything that’s been spinning around in my chest. But I can’t. So, instead, I just let myself stay there, buried in her lap, feeling her fingers move through my hair, steadying me the way only she can.
[[Mama starts coughing again]]
I sink deeper into Mama’s warmth, my head resting lightly against her shoulder. Anton shifts in her lap, still clinging to her sleeve, but I stay still, listening to the soft sounds of the house around us—the creak of the floorboards, the winds soft whistle behind our walls, and our fireplace gently crackling.
Mama’s fingers move gently through my hair, slow and soothing, the way it used to when I was little. My throat feels tight, and I grip the worn fabric of her dress without thinking.
“I love you, Mama,” I whisper.
Her hand stills for just a second. Then she pulls me in tighter, pressing a kiss into my hair.
“Oh, mein Herz,” she murmurs, her voice thick with something heavy, something warm. “I love you too.”
She holds me close, like she’s trying to shield me from something neither of us can name. I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing her in, letting myself feel safe just for a little while.
[[Mama starts coughing again]]I sink deeper into Mama’s warmth, my head resting lightly against her shoulder. Anton shifts in her lap, still clinging to her sleeve, but I stay still, listening to the quiet sounds around us—the creak of the floorboards, the winds soft whistle behind our walls, and our fireplace gently crackling.
Mama’s fingers move slowly through my hair, the motion soft, and steady. Familiar. Safe. I love my mama.
I want to say it. I want to tell her. But when I part my lips, nothing comes out.
“…..”
Mama pulls me in tighter, pressing a kiss on my hair.
She knows. She always knows everything.
Her arms stay wrapped around me, holding me close, like she’s trying to keep me from slipping away. I squeeze my eyes shut, gripping the fabric of her dress, feeling her warmth seep into me.
[[Mama starts coughing again]]<span style="font-size: 24px;">Definition = Bunny its a cute pet name in german </span>
[[Go back to story|My sweet Hasi]]Mama steps out of the kitchen, balancing a tray with three steaming bowls of soup. The familiar scent of cabbage and broth fills the air, wrapping around me like a warm blanket. My stomach growls at the smell, and I can’t help but smile a little.
She looks exhausted—more than usual. Her curly brown hair, normally pulled back neatly, hangs loose around her shoulders, slightly tangled. Her deep brown eyes still hold their warmth, but the dark circles beneath them tell a different story. She’s been sick for weeks, and it’s starting to show. Her skin, usually a rich golden tone, looks dull, and the tip of her nose is red from the cold.
She catches my smile and gives me one in return, small but genuine, as she carefully sets a bowl in front of me and another in front of Anton. Then she lowers herself into her usual seat across the table, setting the now empty tray down beside her on the ground. She quietly breaks off a piece of bread, dipping it into her soup before taking a slow bite.
The soup smells amazing, and I don’t waste any time grabbing my spoon. Across from me, Anton does the same, practically inhaling his first mouthful. Mama stirs her bowl slowly, her movements careful, and deliberate.
For a while, the only sounds in the room are the quiet clinking of spoons against bowls and the occasional sip. Then, Anton, in his usual incompetance, slurps too fast and burns his tongue.
He yelps, dropping his spoon with a clatter. Mama chuckles softly, though it turns into a small raspy cough. she pats the space beside her on the ground. Without hesitation, Anton scrambles over to her, abandoning his seat next to me. I sigh and nudge his bowl across the table to where he's moved besides mama.
Mama blows gently in his mouth where he burned then blowing gently on a spoonful of his soup, cooling it for him.
I keep eating, watching them subtly.
A familiar feeling creeps in my chest—jealousy, bitter and unwelcome. Since Anton was born, it feels like he’s taken up all of Mama’s attention. I know he’s just seven. I know he needs her more than I do.
But knowing doesn’t make it any easier.
[[i glare unconsiously at anton]]
[[i take another slurp of my soup]]My gaze lingers on Anton as he sips his soup, completely unaware of the frustration simmering inside me. Mama absentmindedly runs her fingers through his messy brown curls, and something about the way he leans into her touch makes my stomach twist. I don’t even realize I’ve been staring until Mama’s voice pulls me back.
“[[Mein liebling]]?”
I blink and shift my attention to her. The warmth in her brown eyes instantly softens the tension in my chest, even as I try to hold onto it.
“Yes, Mama?”
She watches me closely, offering a small, knowing smile. “Is something on your mind?”
I hesitate, gripping my spoon a little tighter. “No, Mama.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push either. Instead, she turns away and coughs into her sleeve, a rough, rattling sound that makes me grip my spoon even tighter.
A few weeks ago, Mama and I went to the doctor. He said it was just a strong cold and sold her a tiny glass bottle of medicine—hardly bigger than my thumb. It cost more than we could afford, and yet, it hasn’t done a thing. She spent beyond our budget for something that didn’t even help. I know she’s just as frustrated as I am, but she won’t admit it. She keeps smiling like everything is fine.
I let out a slow breath and clear my throat. “Mama, let’s go back to the doctor tomorrow.”
She pauses, her grip on the spoon tightening. “Hm? Why? My medicine isn’t finished yet.”
I frown. “Mama, that medicine isn’t doing anything. We should—”
She suddenly breaks into another coughing fit, muffling it against her sleeve. When she finally catches her breath, she shakes her head. “No. And that’s final.”
I press my lips into a thin line. “Why not?”
She turns to me, her expression firm, but there’s something else beneath it. A hesitation. A flicker of exhaustion. “Because, like I said, my medicine isn’t finished. And besides… where would we leave Anton?”
Anton looks up at her with wide eyes, his small fingers curling around her sleeve. “Mama…”
She meets his gaze, then mine. The room feels too quiet. Too still.
I take a breath and push forward. “Mama, please. Just this once.”
Her lips press together, and for a moment, I think she’s going to refuse again. But then, slowly, she exhales and gives a small nod.
“…Alright,” she murmurs. “Tomorrow.”
The tension in my chest eases just a little.
Anton perks up beside her, a relieved smile on his face. Mama offers a small one back, reaching out to brush his curls again before looking at me.
“But just this once,” she says softly.
i nod, not daring to push my luck. “Just this once.”
[[Next|bedtime]] I take another sip of my soup, letting the warmth settle in my stomach. The feeling in my chest lingers, but I push it down. It wouldn’t be fair to ruin this quiet moment.
Mama coughs softly into her sleeve before picking up her spoon again. Anton, already halfway through his bowl, completely unaware of the tightness in my chest.
A few weeks ago, Mama and I went to see the doctor. He told us it was just a strong cold and sold her some medicine. A tiny glass bottle—hardly bigger than my thumb—cost more than we could afford, and yet, it hasn’t done a thing. She spent beyond our budget for something useless. I know it bothers her but still, she keeps that gentle smile on her face, pretending everything is fine.
I glance up from my bowl, hesitating before speaking. “…Mama?”
She looks over at me, pulling her attention away from Anton. “Yes, [[mein liebling]]?”
The familiar name warms my chest, and I manage a small smile. “I was thinking… maybe this week, we could go back to the doctor?”
Her smile fades, slow and thoughtful. She lowers her gaze to her soup, stirring it absentmindedly. “….”
I lean in slightly, watching her carefully. “Mama?”
She pulls her smile back into place, but it’s thinner now. “We’re too busy this week, <<print $firstName>>.”
I shake my head, refusing to drop it. “But Mama, I did most of the work today. We have time tomorrow. Let’s go then, just to check—”
She sighs, shaking her head. “And what about Anton? Where would we leave him?”
I huff. “Mama, we can take Anton with us.”
She frowns unsure “<<print $firstName>>, I’m fine. Besides, the medicine isn’t finished yet.”
I clench my jaw, holding back an eye-roll. “But Mama—”
Her eyes sharpen, and she gives me a look—not angry, just firm. Mama rarely gives me looks like that. It stops me cold, my words drying up in my throat.
"........"
we stare at each other tensely for a moment before antons soft voice cuts between us, he softly speaks up with his little voice, "Mama, we should go"
that at seems to crack through mamas defenses and she finally nods softly, i crack a small smile and go back to sipping my soup
[[Next|bedtime]]<span style="font-size: 24px;"> Definition = means "darling" or "favorite" in german </span>
[[Go back to story|i take another slurp of my soup]]<span style="font-size: 24px;"> Definition = means "darling" or "favorite" in german </span>
[[Go back to story|i glare unconsiously at anton]]<span style="font-size: 24px;"> Definition = means "darling" or "favorite" in german </span>
[[Go back to story|Anton finishes his soup]]<span style="font-size: 24px;">Definition = Its a pet name and means "My Treasure" in german</span>
[[Go back to story|Glare at him]]<span style="font-size: 24px;"> Definition = means "darling" or "favorite" in german </span>
[[Go back to story|"Mama, I dont wanna talk right now. IM tired."]]After dinner, I help Mama clean up the table, brushing away crumbs while she scrubs the dishes. The fire crackles softly in the background, filling the small room with warmth.
Anton tugs at the edges of the low table, helping me push it aside so we can lay out the blankets for bedtime. Mama kneels by the fire, stirring the embers, but another cough shakes her thin frame. She presses a hand to her chest, taking a slow breath before finally settling onto her blanket. The moment her head touches the pillow, she’s asleep.
I tuck my blanket to my chin, shifting slightly to get comfortable. Beside me, Anton lies on his back, staring at the ceiling. His small fingers pick at a loose thread in blanket, his lips pulled into a slight frown.
[[Talk to him]]
[[sleep]]<span style="font-size: 24px;"> Definition = means "darling" or "favorite" in german </span>
[[Go back to story|"Mama, this is so embarrassing"]]The moment is cut short as Mama’s body tenses, her chest convulsing with another coughing fit. She turns away, pressing her sleeve tightly against her mouth, shoulders shaking with the effort. Anton and I slide off her lap without a word, instinctively giving her space.
Anton shifts nervously beside me, glancing up with wide, uncertain eyes. I force a small, reassuring smile to him, but we both know it means nothing.
He hesitates before moving to her side, his small hands resting gently on her lap. “Mama?” His voice is quiet, uncertain.
Mama clears her throat, the cough lingering in her breath as she finally looks back at us. She smooths a hand over Anton’s curls, as if the gesture alone could calm him. “Mhm?”
I swallow hard, my fingers curling against my knee. “Mama, you should talk to the doctor again.”
//A few weeks ago, Mama and I went to the doctor. He said it was just a strong cold and sold her a tiny glass bottle of medicine—hardly bigger than my thumb. It cost more than we could afford, and yet, it hasn’t done a thing. She spent beyond our budget for something that didn’t even help. I know it frustrates her, but she won’t admit it. She just keeps smiling, pretending everything is fine.//
She gives me the smile she always does but this time it looks more—tired, its not quite reaching her eyes. “I’m alright, [[mein Liebling|00]]. I haven’t even finished my medicine yet.”
My frown deepens and i say back firmly. “Mama, that medicine isn’t doing anything.”
"...."
She sighs, her fingers still idly stroking Anton’s hair, her gaze distant. I move closer, resting my hand on her lap beside Anton’s hand, our small, silent plea breaking through the wall she keeps putting up.
She closes her eyes for a moment, then nods, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll speak to the doctor again.”
Relief washes over me, though it doesn’t make the ache in my chest go away. “We can go tomorrow,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I finished a lot of work today so we time”
Mama finally looks at me then, something soft and unreadable in her expression. She leans down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. Anton whines, tugging at her sleeve, and she chuckles weakly before placing a kiss on his forehead too.
For a second, It almost feels like it always. i pray my mama gets better.
[[Next|bedtime]]
<span style="font-size: 24px;"> Definition = means "darling" or "favorite" in german </span>
[[Go back to story|Mama starts coughing again]]I gently clear my throat and whisper to him, "Anton?"
Anton glances over to me with his frown
i frowned back in concern and arched my brow, "Hey... what's wrong?"
He shrugs softly and turns to me fully with his body while Mama's soft snors fill the silence. I look at him expectingly, but he doesn't say anything. I look into his eyes as they try to avoid meeting mine. I see what i expected, his brown eyes are filled with worry; he's worried about mama..
I let out a quiet sigh, shifting onto my side to face him better. The firelight flickers across his face, casting soft shadows under his eyes.
“She’ll be okay,” I whisper softly.
Anton’s brows knit together. “You don’t know that,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible that it tugs at my heart.
I swallow, my throat tight. He’s right—I don’t. But what else am I supposed to say? He’s just a kid..
“She’s strong, she's ganna be fine” I tell him, hoping that if I say it enough times, maybe it’ll be true.
i see doubt in the way he frowns still so i quickly add on, “And we’re taking her to the doctor tomorrow. He’ll help.”
Anton is quiet for a long moment, his little fingers still fidgeting with the loose thread on his blanket. Finally, he nods softly.
“…Promise?” he whispers with trusting eyes.
My chest aches. I want to promise. I want to tell him everything will be fine. But the truth is, I don’t know.
[["I promise"]]
[[i dont know, Anton]]
[[......]]
//Im too tired to deal with this so i dont.//
I pull my blanket up, the warmth seeping into my tired bones.
//Besides he's becoming a big kid now, he'll be fine.//
The crackle of the fire is a soothing rhythm in the background, the soft glow casting shadows around the room. Anton, beside me, slowly quiets, his small body turns to curl up facing mama's back. I can hear Mama’s soft snoring nearby, her breathing even and calm.
Everything feels still, like the world outside has paused, leaving only this small, quiet moment.
I shift a little, tucking myself deeper into the blanket, the familiar scent of the firewood and the earthy warmth of the room surrounding me. I can hear Anton’s quiet, steady breathing, his little chest rising and falling with each soft inhale.
The quiet of the room settles over me, and I allow myself to just be. No more thinking, no more worrying—just sleeping.
I close my eyes, the weight of the day finally pulling me under, my soar muscles relax under the warm blanket. i have much to do tommorrow but For now, all i can think about is the softness of the night.
[[Next|morning]]
<span style="font-size: 24px;"> Definition = means "darling" or "favorite" in german </span>
[[Go back to story|"Mama...are you feeling better?"]]I force a little smile and reach over to ontop of his blanket, squeezing one of his small hands. “I promise.”
Anton stares at me for a minute, then nods again, more certain. He scoots closer to me, tugging his blanket up higher on himself, and closes his eyes. He Cuddles into me and I wrap an arm around him. He smiles softly and whispers. "thanks, <<print $firstName>>"
I stay awake long after he’s drifted off, listening to Mama’s soft, uneven breaths.The fire crackles softly casting shadows on the walls.Antons little body is comforting against mine but my chest still still feels tight. Mamas breathing is sounding thin and fragile, she shifts in her sleep, mumbling somthing i cant make out.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to sleep even as worry gnaws at me.
Tomorrow...
Tomorrow we’ll see the doctor.
[[Next|morning]]
<<set $choice = "option1">>
//I don’t answer.//
"...."
"........."
Anton watches me for a second longer, waiting, but I shift back on my back and keep my gaze fixed on the ceiling.
I can feel his eyes on me, searching for something, anything—reassurance, comfort, anything—but I have nothing to give. My throat is tight, my mind too tangled with my own thoughts. what am i //ment// to say? promise somthing i dont even believe?.
After a while, he looks away. His fingers keep tugging at that loose thread on his blanket, his lips pressing together like he’s holding something back.
I don’t need to hear him say it.
I know. He knows. //Mama isn’t getting better.//
The fire crackles softly, filling the silence between us. The warmth should be comforting, but it isn’t. It only makes the room feel smaller, stuffy, like the walls are closing in around us.
Anton shifts under hes blanket turning away, curling in on himself with his back to me. His breathing is uneven, the slightest hitch in his inhale betraying him. He’s trying not to cry.
I swallow hard, turning to my side-now my back to him. Maybe if I don’t see him, it won’t feel so heavy.Maybe if I pretend to sleep, I won’t have to think about him, im so tired.
But I can still hear him.
His quiet sniffles, the way his blanket rustles as he wipes his face.
Guilt settles deep in my chest, but I still don’t say anything.
And eventually, the room goes quiet again.
[[Next|morning]]
<<set $choice = "option2">>
"i dont know, Anton..."
"....."
Anton stiffens beside me. His fingers stop tugging at the loose threads and goes still on the fabric.
His voice is small when he whispers. “Oh.”
I swallow hard and shift under my blanket, turning over on my back to staring at the ceiling, so that im not looking at his little face. "......"
The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. I should say something—anything—to make it better. But what? Lying won’t fix anything, and the truth… the truth feels too heavy to say out loud. I feel frustrated and even more tired then before.
Anton pulls his blanket up to his chin, he whispers as he's looking at my profile. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
I turn my head slightly to glance back at him, watching the way his brows pinch together. The way his chest rises and falls a little too quickly.
I exhale slowly. “I don’t know.”
He sniffles. “b-but You always know.”
I let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “..Not this time, little brother.”
The fire crackles, filling the space where words should be. I then hear Anton shift under his own blanket as he turns his back to me, his breath uneven like he’s trying to hold something in.
I should probably reach for him. Should tell him everything’s going to be okay, even if I don’t believe it myself.
But I don’t.
I just lie there, listening to the fire and the sound of Mama’s slow breaths and her stuffy nose.
"......"
[[Next|morning]]
<<set $choice = "option3">>
<<if $choice == "option1">>
In the morning i stir awake to mama's coughing and my blanket getting tugged. i grone and crack an eye open to see Antons little face a few inches from mine, he smiles and giggles, "morning, <<print $firstName>>!"
A smile pulls on my lips that matches his. i playfully push his face away to get up and get ready for the day.
<<elseif $choice == "option2">>
In the morning, I stir awake to the sound of Mama’s coughing, deep and raspy. There’s some movement beside me, I grumble softly, pulling my blanket tighter around me for a few extra seconds of warmth. With a reluctant sigh I crack an eye open to see Anton beside me, his face tired and scrunched up in the same frown as last night. His eyes are slightly puffed and red.
I sigh and kick my blanket off getting ready for the day.
<<else>>
In the morning, I stir awake to mama's coughing and slight movement beside me. i groan and crack an eye open to see Anton sitting up beside me, he's rubbing his eyes as if he just woke up, he looks tired and worn as if he didnt get much sleep at all.
I sigh and push my blanket off myself, getting ready for the day.
<</if>>
Grabbing some fresh clothes from a drawer, I head to the bathroom.
The door creaks as I push it open, and the cold air hits me instantly, creating goosebumps on my arms.I quickly close the small window above the bathtub, the soft click of it shutting breaking the silence. I walk over to the sink, turn on the faucet, and splash some cold water on my face.
The water feels sharp and refreshing against my skin, and the sound of it running is oddly soothing in the quiet room.
I look to the mirror above the sink, blinking sleepily as I take in my reflection.
//This is me.//
//My eyes are-//
[[Green|eyesgreen]] <<set $eyeColor to "green">>
[[Brown|eyesbrown]] <<set $eyeColor to "brown">>
[[Black|eyesblack]] <<set $eyeColor to "black">>
[[Blue|eyesblue]] <<set $eyeColor to "blue">>
"I AM LUKAS WEBER AND IM 16, SIR!"
I shout above the other voices that chat and laugh around us. The man in the green uniform nods curtly, shoving a paper and pen into my hands. I eagerly snatch them, quickly scribbling my name.
As I finish writing my last name, a few unruly strands of my messy-
I stare into the mirror at myself.
<<set $colorClass to "green">>
My eyes are Green, like the stems and leaves of our freshly grown veggies in the summer.
//I get so excited when I see this green after a winter.//
The mirror reflects the light of the bathroom. I blink slowly, watching the tiredness melts away from my face.
I press my palms against the cool sink, taking a deep breath. I look down at the metal sink, letting my hair slide down in front of my face.
//My hair is usually-//
[[Brown|brownhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Brown">>
[[Red|redhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Red">>
[[Black|blackhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Black">>
[[Blond|bondhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Blond">>
I stare into the mirror at myself.
<<set $colorClass to "brown">>
My eyes are //Brown// and earthy, like the fresh soil in our backyard that grows our sweet, orange pumpkins.
//My brown irises are identical to Mama's and Anton's//
The mirror reflects the light of the bathroom. I blink slowly, watching the tiredness melts away from my face.
I press my palms against the cool sink, taking a deep breath. I look down at the metal sink, letting my hair slide down in front of my face.
//My hair is usually-//
[[Brown|brownhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Brown">>
[[Red|redhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Red">>
[[Black|blackhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Black">>
[[Blond|bondhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Blond">>
I stare into the mirror at myself.
<<set $colorClass to "black">>
My eyes are black, like the night sky.
//Anton once told me that when I look at the stars, my eyes make it seem like they have their own.//
The mirror reflects the light of the bathroom. I blink slowly, watching the tiredness melts away from my face.
I press my palms against the cool sink, taking a deep breath. I look down at the metal sink, letting my hair slide down in front of my face.
//My hair is usually-//
[[Brown|brownhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Brown">>
[[Red|redhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Red">>
[[Black|blackhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Black">>
[[Blond|bondhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Blond">>
I stare into the mirror at myself.
<<set $colorClass to "blue">>
My eyes are Dark blue, like the fresh blueberries I see sold at the market.
//I never liked those little fruits, but they look cool.//
The mirror reflects the light of the bathroom. I blink slowly, watching the tiredness melts away from my face.
I press my palms against the cool sink, taking a deep breath. I look down at the metal sink, letting my hair slide down in front of my face.
//My hair is usually-//
[[Brown|brownhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Brown">>
[[Red|redhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Red">>
[[Black|blackhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Black">>
[[Blond|bondhair]]<<set $hairColor to "Blond">>
My Brown hair slides in front of my eyes,so i reach up to push my overgrown bangs back.
<<set $hairColor to "Brown">>
//I love my brown hair, its just like mama's and Anton's.//
The length is-- [[Long(past my sholders)]]|[[Sholder length]]|[[short]]|[[supershort]]My redish-orange hair slides in front of my eyes,so i reach up to push my overgrown bangs back.
<<set $hairColor to "Red">>
My hair is-- [[Long(past my sholders)]]|[[Sholder length]]|[[short]]|[[supershort]]My Black hair slides in front of my eyes so i reach up to push my overgrown bangs back.
<<set $hairColor to "Black">>
My hair is-- [[Long(past my sholders)]]|[[Sholder length]]|[[short]]|[[supershort]]My Blond hair slides in front of my eyes,so I reach up to push my overgrown bangs back.
<<set $hairColor to "Blond">>
My hair is-- [[Long(past my sholders)]]|[[Sholder length]]|[[short]]|[[supershort]]My hair is long going past my shoulders, i like growing it, kinda like //mama's hair//, she showed me how to take care of it.
I think it looks good, especially since im--
[[Very short(4'10"- 5'2")]]<<set $height to "very short">>
[[Short(5'3" - 5'5")]]<<set $height to "short">>
[[Average(5'6" - 5'10")]] <<set $height to "average">>
[[Tall(5'11" - 6'3")]]<<set $height to "tall">>
[[Very Tall (6'4”+)]]<<set $height to "very tall">>My hair reaches my shoulders—short enough to move around easily, yet still long enough for me to style
I think it looks good, especially since im--
[[Very short(4'10"- 5'2")]]<<set $height to "very short">>
[[Short(5'3" - 5'5")]]<<set $height to "short">>
[[Average(5'6" - 5'10")]]<<set $height to "average">>
[[Tall(5'11" - 6'3")]]<<set $height to "tall">>
[[Very Tall (6'4”+)]]<<set $height to "very tall">>My hair is short but reaches past my ears. I prefer to keep it this way—it's easier to do farm chores like this. I just need to tuck my hair behind my ears.
I think it looks good, especially since im--
[[Very short(4'10"- 5'2")]]<<set $height to "very short">>
[[Short(5'3" - 5'5")]]<<set $height to "short">>
[[Average(5'6" - 5'10")]]<<set $height to "average">>
[[Tall(5'11" - 6'3")]] <<set $height to "tall">>
[[Very Tall (6'4”+)]]<<set $height to "very tall">>My hair is short and doesn't go past my ears. I prefer to keep it this way because doing the farm chores is easier like this.
I think it looks good too, especially since im--
[[Very short(4'10"- 5'2")]]<<set $height to "very short">>
[[Short(5'3" - 5'5")]]<<set $height to "short">>
[[Average(5'6" - 5'10")]]<<set $height to "average">>
[[Tall(5'11" - 6'3")]]<<set $height to "tall">>
[[Very Tall (6'4”+)]]<<set $height to "very tall">><<set $height to "very short">>
Im very short, but thankfully still a bit taller then Anton.
//I am his--//
[[Big Brother]]<<set $sibling to "brother">>
[[Big Sister]]<<set $sibling to "sister">> <<set $height to "average">>
Im an average size-- when I stand next to Mama, her shoulder is only a few inches lower then mine.
//Anton has to tilt his head slightly up to look at me. Im his--//
[[Big Brother]]<<set $sibling to "brother">>
[[Big Sister]]<<set $sibling to "sister">><<set $height to "tall">>
Im tall, mama says papa was exactly my height
//Anton has to really tilt his head to look at me. Im his--//
[[Big Brother]]<<set $sibling to "brother">>
[[Big Sister]]<<set $sibling to "sister">><<set $height to "short">>
Mama and my sholders would meet if i stood beside her.
Im short but thankfully bigger then Anton.
//i am his--//
[[Big Brother]]<<set $sibling to "brother">>
[[Big Sister]]<<set $sibling to "sister">>I'm his big brother, and I'll always look out for Anton.
<<set $sibling to "brother">>
But lately, I've been more focused on keeping the farm running
[[Finish up getting ready]] Im his Big Sister and ill always help take care of Anton.
<<set $sibling to "sister">>
But thats been more of mama's job lately--My job is to keep the farm running.
[[Finish up getting ready]]I dry my face with our scratchy little towel and tug on some fresh clothes before stepping out of the bathroom.
I start the day by feeding the animals. It’s chilly, so I wear my favorite brown coat and<<if $sibling is "brother">> my baggy pants.<<elseif $sibling is "sister">> my long skirt.
<</if>>
<<print $chickenname>> follows me around the farm, his little feet managing to keep up with me.I grab a handful of feed and scatter it across the ground, watching as <<print $chickenname>> eagerly pecks at the grains.
The goats are already awake, bleating impatiently in their pen. I sigh, adjusting my coat as I head toward them.
Anton stumbles out of the house, rubbing his eyes. "You already started without me?" he mumbles. I roll my eyes and look over to him, "Get back inside, Anton. its cold"
He ignores me and pitters over in his thin little jacket, making my frown deepen. He grabs some wild grasses from the black bucket by my feet and holds it out for the two goats. They quickly eat from his hand and starts licking his fingers clean that makes him giggle.
[[Let Anton help|yesAnton]]
[[Tell Anton to get back inside|noAnton]]
I give him stern look and clear my throat but he ignores it and grabs another handful of wildgrass from the bucket--i catch his wrist. "Anton, im serious. Get back inside"
Anton whines and tries to pull his hand back. "Stooppp, i dont wannnaaaa "I pry the grass out of Anton's hand and try to drag him back to the house. He whines and resists, but I <<if $height is "very short">> manage to drag him by his wrist.<<elseif $height is "short">>still pull him along by his wrist easily.<<elseif $height is "average">> groan and pick him up, carrying him inside while he whines.<<elseif $height is "tall">>sigh and pick him up, carrying him inside.His little legs kick but i pay it no mind<<elseif $height is "very tall">>easily pick him up and take him back inside.His little legs kick but i pay it no mind.
<</if>>
When inside i see mama by the dead fireplace combing her hair, still getting ready for the day.<<if $height is "very short">>i let go of Anton.<<elseif $height is "short">>i let go of Anton<<elseif $height is "average">>i set Anton down<<elseif $height is "tall">>I gently set Anton down<<elseif $height is "very tall">> i set Anton down gently <</if>>.
He huffs walking over beside mama, sitting crisscrossed.
Mama glances down at Anton, smiling softly as she combs out her tangles. "Don't pout, mein Herz. Were going outside together in a few minutes. Go grab your good jacket."
Anton’s pout disappears and he quickly perks up. he pushes himself to his feet to look for his coat around the house.
I take Anton’s spot beside Mama, the thin blanket doesnt do much to cushion the hard floor under me. I pick at the skin by my nail watching mama. "can i help, mama?"
Mama hums, considering for a moment before holding out the comb. "Of course, Liebling."
I take the comb and gently shift onto my knees behind her, the comb runs through her brown long hair, her comb feels warm in my hand. Mama coughs and sneezes into her sleeve as i undo the little tangles, being carfule not to tug hard.
"Is this ok?" I ask, glancing at her reflection in the small mirror propped up against the fireplace, she smiles softly. "thats perfect"
A small warmth blooms in my chest at the praise. I keep brushing, glancing at her in the mirror, she has her gaze down in thought
[[Mama?]]
I turn his sholder around to face me and glare at him, "Anton."
He pouts and gives me puppy eyes, "pleeesse?"
I stare down at him firmly for a moment before sighing reluctanly, ".....Fine, you can stay, but you have to get your good jacket first"
Anton perks up and smiles before quickly running off back to the house.I grab the bucket and walk over to the goats' pen, spilling the wildgrass to ground where they egerly eat from.
After a few minutes later, i can hear him pittering over to my side.i glance to my side, hes now wearing his black better jacket with a big smile.
"Ready!" he says excitedly.
I can’t help but smile back at how happy he is-i nod. "Good.lets check on the pigs"
Anton nods eagerly and tails me to the next pen behind the house.
"Anton, grab that green bucket-" Anton is already grabbing it and trying to spill the contents into the pigs' pen, i chuckle and walk over to his side helping him tip the bucket empty.
The three pigs scramble over for their breakfast, Anton watches with a smile.i set the bucket down and i ruffle his hair playfully.
[[Anton?]]<<set $height to "very tall">>
I am Very Tall--Mama says I'm bigger than my Papa was.
//Poor Anton doesn't even try to meet my gaze when I stand.Im his--//
[[Big Brother]]<<set $sibling to "brother">>
[[Big Sister]]<<set $sibling to "sister">>She hums softly, "yes, mein Liebling?"
I keep brushing through her soft hair and continue, "can you tell me about papa?"
Her breath hitches slightly and there’s a long pause for a moment. I hear her cough again. I falter for a moment, unsure if I should press further, but she lets out a soft sigh and continues.
"Your Papa?, He was a good man..." she trails off.
I feeling a lump rise in my throat as i keep brushing i pry. "What was he like?"
She breathes in deeply, collecting herself af if she looks for the words. "He... he was kind in his own way. Strong...Quiet."
I furrow my brows trying to remeber what he looked like, but its fuzzy."Did he love us?" i mumbe softly.
Mama turns around making me stop brushing. she takes my hand and looks to me, our gaze meets, she gives me a weak smile. "of course, mein Liebling."
Her finger traces softly along my palm before she brings it to her lips and kisses it. Her hand shakes gently holding mine.I lean in and kiss mama's forhead. i stop pushing, not wanting to make mama sad.
Mama braids her hair and starts to wrap her head with her Rose print headscarf; she loves this one. I raise to my feet to get her coat, that's draped on the low table
Anton pitters back over with his good jacket on as Mama shrugs on her jacket, i zip up the one i already have on and follow them out of the door.
[[Next|Doc]]He blinks up at me with a smile, "Yeah, <<print $firstName>>?"
I smile back, arching a eyebrow. "You like doing this?"
Anton arches his little brow in return, a playful expression crossing his face. "What?"
I nod toward the happy pigs, snuffling and rooting around the pen. "This, taking care of the farm."
Anton’s gaze drifts back to the pigs, his smile widening. "Yeah, I do." He seems content, watching the pigs root through the dirt, their happy grunts filling the air.
i comb down his rufffled hair with my hand, "youre a weird kid" i tease.
Anton giggles slapping my hand away and<<if $height is "very short">>looks up slightly to me<<elseif $height is "short">>looks up to me<<elseif $height is "average">>looks up at me<elseif $height is "tall">>he tilts his head way back<<elseif $height is "very tall">>looks back at the pigs <</if>>, "what do you mean?"
I chuckle and shrug softly, "kids dont usually like doing chores"
Anton shrugs softly, "well, i like it. i wish you let me help more" he mumbles, its hard not to smile.
"When it’s warm again, I will," I say softly.
The time seems to move quickly around us as we walk from one task to the next. Anton tails behind me, helping around.There's always something to do, whether it's feeding the animals, checking the fences, or tidying up the barn. Anton sticks behind me, eager to help with whatever i tell him to do. His small hands are surprisingly capable, and I can’t help but rely on him, //i guess Anton is getting older.//
As we wrap up the last of the chores, Anton's attention quickly shifts. "Can I play with the chickens now?" he asks, almost bouncing with excitement.
I give him a tired amused look. "You can, but don't scare them too much, alright?"
Anton nods eagerly, already darting toward the chicken coop. The chickens cluck and flutter, but Anton handles them gently, gigglig as they peck at the ground near his feet. He crouches down, holding out his hands to let a few of them peck some seeds out his hands, completely captivated by them.
I lean back against the goats pen, watching him for a moment, the peacefulness of the farm settling in around me. I listen to Anton's giggles as he chases after <<print $chickenname>>, the pesky little thing had snatched one of the crackers from Anton’s pocket.
After a few minutes my gaze drifts toward the house when the door creaks open. I see Mama stepping out, her nice rose print headscarf neatly tied, her purse over her shoulder. The sight of her reminds me of the plans for the day.
I look back to Anton and call out to him. "Alright, Anton. come on, mama's leaving"
Anton pouts watching <<print $chickenname>> run off with his cracker but jogs after me as i head to mama.
[[Next|Doc]]
//After twenty min//
The chilly air nips at my cheeks as I stroll with Mama and Anton towards the town nearby. mama holds Antons hand and i trail behind them.
The streets of the little town are bustling with activity, people going about their day-to-day activities. a few peple speak in hushed tones around the streets but we pay them no mind. I pass by some market stalls selling bread and vegetables, the smells of baked goods and earthy vegetables mixing in the air.
As we get near the doctors building, the tall, lean structure stands out from the lower cottages, its plain, functional architecture is simple without much design. The door groans beneath my hand as I push it open, and I step through, the heat from the inside strikes my skin at once.
The Doctor's office is a small and neat room. In one corner stands a desk with papers piled on it. Plain body charts and antique maps adorn the walls as wall decore, weird but familiar. There's a scent of antiseptic covering something earthy—probably the herbal remedies the doctor also sells.The door to Mama's doctor is by the right side, near the frontdesk woman, shes always so put together with her redish hair in a tight bun, so tight it looks like a tomato rather then styled hair.
The physician himself is an older man, cold, detached eyes, and a detached demeanor. His gray hair is well-combed, and his white coat is slightly worn, with the evidence of years of use.
Mama sits in one of the wooden chairs after she speaks with the redhaired woman and Anton squirms in a chair,sitting next to her. I take a seat to her left, the silence of the room settling around us. There is a weird quiet tension--like everyone’s pretending to be calm but secretly kind of anxious, this stretches out as the few other patients wait their turn. I hear the rustling of papers as the front desk women flicks through some papers on her desk.
Anton whispers, asking a random question about something he saw outside earlier, trying to distract himself from the tension of the quietness, I hates doctor offices and i think he might too.
Mama is quiet beside me, she lays her hand on Antons back, her hand warm and reassuring, i remember when she used to do that with me. She tries to smile, but her coughing cuts the moment short. her hand pulls back as she covers her coughs with her sleeve.
The rustling of papers stop and the door creaks open as the doctor enters the room, his self-confident presence commanding. His sharp, calculating eyes scan the waiting patients before finally settling on us. With a lazy wave motion of his hand, he beckons Mama to follow.
[["You. Come."]]
Mama nods slowly and stands with a few coughs in.
Anton and i do quickly rise with her. Anton quickly holds on her sleeve for a second before she pries his fingers loose. “Stay with your <<if $sibling is "brother">>Brother <<elseif $sibling is "sister">>Sister<</if>>,” she says. I look down at Anton, and he reluctantly sits back down in his seat, his small hands moves down grasping the hem of his jacket.
I glance back at mama to give a nod and take her seat beside Anton.
We watch mama follow the man inside, Anton stands back up when shes out of sight and quickly pitters over to the now half cracked door, they went through.
I hiss his name in a whisper to make him come back as he peers through the crack of the door, The woman at the desk doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe she just doesn’t care since shes continues to shuffling through papers like were invisable. I stand hesitantly and trail behind him to where he is. For a moment i hover there, unsure but curiousity pulls me closer behind Anton and i lean in too--just enough to see the other side where mama is.
From inside the room a smell like disinfectant and dried herbs whiffs out, the walls are even more white then the waiting room. I can see the doctor sits down behind his cluttered desk, and the papers shift as he adjusts his glasses. He doesn’t say hello. His voice is already sharp and uninterested. “Symptoms?”
Mama clears her throat. “The same. Persistent coughing, fatigue... fever.”
The doctor hums in aknowledgment as he's still looking at his clipboard. “You were here a few weeks ago,” he says, tapping his pen on his desk. His gaze flick up at her looking almost accusatory. “Did you take the medicine I prescribed?”
Mama nods softly with a frown. “I... I did. It didn’t help.”
A little annoyed frown tugs on his face and he starts writing on his clipbard. “You should have come back sooner if it didn’t work.” He says coldly.
//Anton reaches for my hand.//
[[Quick squeeze]]
[[Gentle slap]]
[[I pull Anton back to sit down]]I glance down at him and give his hand a quick squeeze before turning my attention back to the crack of the door. My hand in his makes Anton sholders relax slightly.
The doctor stands and moves to a tall cabinet, unlocking it with the jingling of his keys. He pulls out yet another little black bottle identical to the one we already have at home from our last visit. He sets it on his desk in front of Mama. "Here. This should suit you then."
Mama's eyes flicker to the bottle, then at him. Her hand moves slowly to reach for it, but he places his hand over it before she even touches it. His cold eyes bore into Mama, then in his emotionless voice, he says, "It'll be 70 [[Reichsmarks]]" that makes my stomach turn; it'd take us months just to be able to save up for that.
Mama pulls her hand back, glancing down for a brief moment at her purse that's in her lap. I can sense the worry in the way she chews her bottom lip.
Anton tilts his head behind him to look at me with wide-eyed innocence. "Mama's gonna be ok?" he whispers
I shush him softly as I keep my gaze on them.
Mama looks at the bottle and back at the doctor. "I-i don't have much, but is this alright?". Her voice is soft like always. Mama rummages through her worn-out purse, her fingers digging for the crumpled paper money inside the small pocket.
The doctor leans back in his chair, still looking at her boredly. His lips pressed together in a thin line. She pulls out barely half of what he asked for, and when he sees it, his frown deepens.
"That's not enough," he says flatly
I feel a flash of anger and panic, and a lump in my throat.
Mama’s eyes dart up to his face, searching for something—maybe a glimmer of understanding—but there’s nothing. His face is blank, professional, cold.
I squint to see the money in Mama’s hand, it's only half of what he asked for, yet that's our two and a half months of labor on our farm.
Anton shifts next to me, his hand still in mine. I can feel his unease, and my chest squeezes watching Mama. I want to yell, I want to barge in, tell him how unfair and cruel he's being, but instead, I just hold Anton's hand tighter. The air in the room gets heavier, and I watch as Mama’s lips tighten up from her side profile.
She clears her throat, her voice a whisper, “I... I’ll find a way to get the rest, just please, I can barely move around, I have two children and they need me.”
The doctor doesn’t say anything right away, just looks at her with that blank face, the silence stretching out.
Some hard coughs rips out of mama at that moment; it's so rough it makes her eyes tear up. She weakly clears her throat and looks back at him. "Please. I don't have a husband; it's just me and my kids."
"...."
After a moment He finally sighs but still gives an annoyed look to her, "You have a month to pay it in full. Do I make myself clear, woman?"
Mama flinches at his sharp tone, and she holds her purse to her chest."Yes. Thank you, Doctor," she says quietly, her voice small but resigned. She keeps her gaze low, not able to hold his gaze as she takes the little black bottle from his desk.
Anton watches Mama with a frown that matches mine as we unconsciously lean in more.
The Doctor seems bored, and his cold eyes don't linger on Mama when he grabs Mama's crumpled Reichsmarks--counting them. Mama is quiet again.
When he nods, tucking the money in his pocket, Mama stands from her chair. I step back quickly from the door, heart racing, and tug Anton with me by our joined hands. His fingers tighten in surprise, but he follows without protest.
[[Next|Calltowar]]
I gently slap Antons hand away, he Glances up at me with a frown but i ignore it and turn my attention back to the opening of the door.
The doctor stands and moves to a tall cabinet, unlocking it with the jingling of his keys. He pulls out yet another little black bottle identical to the one we already have at home from our last visit. He sets it on his desk in front of Mama. "Here. This should suit you then."
Mama's eyes flicker to the bottle, then at him. Her hand moves slowly to reach for it, but he places his hand over it before she even touches it. His cold eyes bore into Mama, then in his emotionless voice, he says, "It'll be 70 [[Reichsmarks]]" that makes my stomach turn; it'd take us months just to be able to save up that much
Mama pulls her hand back, glancing down for a brief moment at her purse that's in her lap. I can sense the worry in the way she chews her bottom lip.
Anton tilts his head behind him to look at me with wide-eyed innocence. "Mama's gonna be ok?" he whispers
I shush him softly as I keep my gaze on them.
Mama looks at the bottle and back at the doctor. "I-i don't have much, but is this alright?". Her voice is soft like always. Mama rummages through her worn-out purse, her fingers digging for the crumpled paper money inside the small pocket.
The doctor leans back in his chair, still looking at her boredly. His lips pressed together in a thin line. She pulls out barely half of what he asked for, and when he sees it, his frown deepens.
"That's not enough," he says flatly
I feel a flash of anger and panic, and a lump in my throat.
Mama’s eyes dart up to his face, searching for something—maybe a glimmer of understanding—but there’s nothing. His face is blank, professional, cold.
I squint to see the money in Mama’s hand, it's only half of what he asked for, yet that's our two and a half months of labor on our farm.
Anton shifts next to me, his hand grabs my sleeve nervously. I can feel his unease, and my chest squeezes watching Mama. I want to yell, I want to barge in, tell him how unfair and cruel he's being, but instead, i clench my jaw. The air in the room gets heavier, and I watch as Mama’s lips tighten up from her side profile.
She clears her throat, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I… I’ll find a way to get the rest. Just please—I can barely move around, and I have two children. They need me.”
The doctor doesn’t say anything right away, just looks at her with that blank face, the silence stretching out.
Some hard coughs rips out of mama at that moment; it's so rough it makes her eyes tear up. She weakly clears her throat and looks back at him. "Please. I don't have a husband; it's just me and my kids."
"...."
After a moment He finally sighs but still gives an annoyed look to her, "You have a month to pay it in full. Do I make myself clear, woman?"
Mama flinches at his sharp tone, and she holds her purse to her chest."Yes. Thank you, Doctor," she says quietly, her voice small but resigned. She keeps her gaze low, not able to hold his gaze as she takes the little black bottle from his desk.
Anton watches Mama with a frown that matches mine, we unconsciously lean in more towards the crack of the door.
The Doctor seems bored, his cold eyes don't linger on Mama as he grabs Mama's crumpled Reichsmarks--counting them. Mama is quietly waiting.
When he nods, tucking the money in his pocket, Mama stands from her chair. I step back quickly from the door, heart racing, and pull Anton with me by his little sholder. he follows without protest.
[[Next|Calltowar]]<span style="font-size: 24px;">Reichsmarks were the official currency of Nazi Germany from 1924 to 1948</span>
[[Go back to story|Quick squeeze]]When we finally leave the doctor’s office, the cold air hits my face again. The weight of the doctor’s words still sits heavy in my chest. Anton walks beside me, his small hand wrapped around mine. Mama trails a few steps behind, holding a little black bottle tightly in her hand. Her pace is steady, but her silence says more than words could.
Anton tugs at my sleeve. “Is Mama okay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
I nod, just slightly—too lost in thought to say anything more. I glance back at Mama. Her shoulders are stiff, her eyes far away. She seems deep in her own world.
Just as I’m about to speak, the sound of footsteps breaks through the quiet. Quick, uneven—running.
I look up.
A grimy boy darts past us, his blond hair messy, his eyes wild and blue. He snatches something off the old tall wooden fence beside me. In a blink, he grabs a pamphlet, folds it once, and stuffs it into the oversized coat hanging off his thin frame.
I blink, startled, and glance around.
There are more of them—pamphlets like the one he took, taped up all along the fence. My heart skips. That pamphlet… it’s about the war.
I look back at the boy. For a brief second, his eyes lock with mine. There’s something wild in them. He doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t flinch. He just disappears into the crowd, the folded paper tucked tight against his chest.
Anton tugs on my sleeve again. “What is he doing?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble, still staring after the boy.
I turn back to the fence. The pamphlets flap in the breeze. I pull one off.
The title is bold and heavy: Rekrutierung für den Großen Deutschen Reich—(//Recruitment for the Greater German Reich//). It’s an official call to duty, a plea for more soldiers to join the war with the promises of great things.
I try to ignore the queasiness in my stomach, but it gets worse as I read on skimming the page, the promises of honor, of duty to the Fatherland, of a better future—words that have been drummed into everyone’s head for years.
This pamphlet is an invitation.
Anton is still beside me. His fingers pull at my sleeve again, uncertain. “What’s that?”
I don’t answer at first. My eyes are still on the street, on the space where the boy disappeared. So fast, so brief. Why did he take it like that? so eagerly.
I fold the paper and slide it into my pocket. “Nothing,” I say, voice flat. “Just a paper…”
I give his hand a gentle tug, and together we jog to catch up with Mama since she has walked on past us.
The walk to the farm always feels longer in the colder seasons.
[[Next|home]]
The cold air clings to my skin as we finally reach the farmhouse.I try to focus on the warmth waiting inside, hoping it’ll chase away the uncertain feeling lingering in my chest.
Anton walks ahead of me walking with mama's side now.
Mama is already at the door, pushing it open with one hand, the other still holding the black bottle still. She doesn’t look back, doesn’t say a word as she steps inside. The quiet tension in the air is thick.
Inside is warm, and I can hear the comforting sounds of the fire crackling as Anton starts it with some matches. Mama begins heads to the kitchen quitely—while Anton huddles by the fire, his cheeks face pink from the cold. The weight of the day settles into the room, but my mind can’t seem to rest.
I pull the pamphlet from my pocket and look at it again, the bold words staring back at me. Rekrutierung für den Großen Deutschen Reich. //Recruitment for the Greater German Reich.//
I feel a shiver run through me as I sit at the table, my hands trembling slightly as I turn the pamphlet over. The promises about—the honor, the better future, and //the money, 35 a month!?// i didnt notice that before—feels like a trap, it all sounds too good to be true..
Mama doesn’t notice me holding the pamphlet as she comes back out to tend to the fire, she puts two cans of soup near the fire to warm them. She’s so focused, so absorbed in making sure we have food for the night.
The determinaton and hope I feel—it’s real, and it’s not going away.
Anton looks up from the fire, catching me staring at the paper and comes over to my side curiously.
I try to shake off the feeling and I fold the pamphlet up, slip it back into my pocket.
“It’s nothing, Anton,” offering him a faint smile.
He pouts but reluctantly moves back to our old looking fireplace.
The warmth from the fire warms my hands. My eyes flicker over to Anton, sitting quietly by the hearth again, his face illuminated by the flickering light. He looks so small, so innocent, his thoughts as simple as they should be-he shouldnt have to worry about mama or food but he does and that makes me want to sheld him.
Mama moves about the room, keeping herself busy with little things. I can see the worry lines that have deepened in her face, it makes her look so unfamilar to me.
I stare at the fire longer than I should, the dancing flames offering no answers. My thoughts wander, and I can’t help but think about the pamphlet again, about the boys quickness in grabbing himself one.
//Maybe..I can do something?...//
[[Next|next]]
I stay inside for today. The wind howls outside, rattling the door and making the old wooden walls creak. I stay close to Mama and Anton, wrapped in the warmth of our best blanket, though the cold still lingers in the air.Mama holds us close, her arms steady but thin, the weight of her exhaustion sinking into me. She sniffles and coughs quietly, turning her face toward the fire as if it could chase away the sickness creeping into her bones.
Anton’s breath evens out as he drifts to sleep, his small head resting against Mama’s lap. I lean my head against her shoulder, listening to the crackling flames, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. It feels safe here, even with everything pressing down on us.
When the windows have gone dark, Mama finally stirs. She cracks open the hot cans of soup, the familiar scent filling the room. It’s thin, simple, but warm. She gently shakes Anton’s shoulder, rousing him from sleep, and presses a can into his hands along with a napkin and spoon. He blinks blearily, rubbing his eyes, then eats in slow sleepy bites, his body leaning into hers.
I take mine, stirring the contents absently with my spoon, but my stomach twists too much to eat. Across from me, Mama doesn’t touch hers. She only takes a slow sip of the medicine the doctor gave her, wincing slightly at the taste.
She’s quiet. Too quiet.
She’s been this way since we left the doctor’s office, her thoughts locked away behind tired eyes.
I steal a glance at her, the lines on her face deeper in the dim firelight. The sickness is taking more from her than she lets on.
I squeeze the spoon in my hand, hesitating before speaking. "Mama… you should eat"
She doesn’t answer right away, only stares into the fire, her fingers tightening around the little black bottle. "im alright.."
I frown softly and tilt my head slightly, "mama"
Her gaze moves to meet mine and she clears her throat, "..can you go bring the blue cookie tin from the oven."
I already know what shes talking about. i hop to my feet moving to the kitchen. i come back with the cookie tin and hold it out for her.She gently takes it poping it open. This is where we keep all the money.. we barely have anything inside since we used a lot of it to buy the canned food for winter, mama counts the coins and the crumpled Reichsmarks.
I sit back down and sip my canned soup, watching her count. she coughs in her sleeve and sneezes again.
When she finishes counting she sighs and closes the tin with a soft clink, setting it aside, her fingers lingering on the lid for a moment before pulling away. Her face is unreadable, but I can see the tightness in her jaw, the exhaustion in her eyes.
I take another small sip of my soup, letting the warmth settle in my stomach, but it doesn’t do much to ease the weight pressing down on my chest.
Anton, still half-asleep, leans against Mama’s side, his spoon slipping lazily against the edge of his can. Mama brushes a hand over his hair, her touch light, but I see the way her fingers tremble.
She doesn’t say anything right away as she chews her bottom lip.
Finally, she exhales slowly. “It’s not enough,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.
I set my can down, the quiet admission settling like a stone in my stomach.
“How much do we need?” I ask.
Mama shakes her head. “More than we have.” She swallows hard, rubbing her temple. “The medicine… it’s expensive. I—I’ll figure something out.”
She always says that so i dont worry
I lower my gaze to my lap, my hands tightening around my can. The pamphlet in my pocket feels heavier than before, urging me to fish it out.
//Maybe I could fight.. Just long enough to get some money. Just until Mama is better.//
//Just a months paycheck would be enough and help mama..//
I glance at her again, watching the way her shoulders sag under the weight of everything. She doesn’t look at me.
"....."
After a moment of silence i clear my throat to her, "mama..i have an idea"
[[Tell her about the paper]]
[[Dont tell her]]
Mama looks at me, running a hand through Anton’s brown curls. Anton sets his can down and lays his head back down on mamas lap.
I gently reach into my pocket and pull out the pamphlet. The sight of its letters makes Mama’s hand still in Anton’s hair.
I clear my throat softly, holding it out to her. She hesitates before taking it, her fingers tightening around the worn edges as she reads it further. Her expression shifts—
<<if $sibling == "brother">>
her face pales, and she looks back at me with a deep frown.
<<elseif $sibling == "sister">>
her brows scrunch in confusion.
<<endif>>
I sit up straighter, meeting her gaze. “Mama, I can be a soldier. I can bring back money for us.”
<<if $sibling == "brother">>
She shakes her head firmly and glares. “Over my dead body, <<print $firstName>>.”
<<elseif $sibling == "sister">>
She blinks, still confused, then smiles, amused, taking it as a joke. “You? You enlist, mein Liebling? You’re a girl.”
<<endif>>
<<if $sibling == "brother">>
I huff and fold my arms. “Mama, this could help us a lot.”
She shakes her head, crumples up the paper, and starts coughing. When she catches her breath, she clears her throat. “I said no. It doesn’t matter. You’re not going.”
I clench my jaw and give her a serious look. “Mama, if we don’t pay the full amount, you mightget taken away. You’ll never see us again!”
She shakes her head, keeping her gaze down on Anton’s little sleeping face. She gently rocks back and forth. “W-we can figure something else out, a different job. You can’t go there.”
I groan. “Mama, the doctor said we only have a month. I’ll only be gone for what? A few months? I’ll send all my paychecks back here. We can pay this off and even have extra.”
She glares at me with glossy eyes, her nose pink from her stubborn cold. “I’ll figure it out. You’re not going, and that’s final.”
<<elseif $sibling == "sister">>
I roll my eyes and shrug. “So? I can hide it, Mama!”
Her brows furrow in confusion. “Hide it?”
I nod, my gaze firm. “I’ll hide it. No one will know I’m a girl there. Besides, it’ll only be for a few months, probably. I’ll send all my paychecks here, and I’ll come back.”
She shakes her head and furrows her brows. “Are you insane? No. Not happening.”
I glare back, frustrated. “Mama, I need to. How else will we pay the doctor back?”
She shakes her head, looking down at Anton’s sleeping face in her lap. “I’ll figure it out. You’re not going anywhere near there. It’s too dangerous.”
I groan. “Mama! I can handle it!”
My voice makes Anton stir slightly, and Mama throws me a stern look. “I said no, and that’s final.”
<<endif>>
I hold my tongue despite my annoyance and lie down under my blanket. I turn my back to her wih my brows furrowed.
//I made up my mind already and she cant change it//
//loading ;(//<span style="font-size: 24px;">Reichsmarks were the official currency of Nazi Germany from 1924 to 1948</span>
[[Go back to story|Gentle slap]]I take his hand in mine and give his hand a light tug, guiding him away from the door.
His feet drag for a second like he doesn’t want to go, but then he lets out a quiet sigh and follows. We sit back down, our seats creaking under us. He leans into me, resting his head against my shoulder, and I don’t say anything. I just sit there with him, both of us staring ahead at door, waiting for mama.
The woman at the desk finally glances up, her eyes passing over us like we’re just part of the furniture, then back down again.
The other paitents around us mind their own business still waiting for their turn.
Inside, the voices continue, its faint but i strain my ears to listen.
“There’s not much else I can do,” the doctor says. “You’ll need a stronger prescription, but it’s not cheap.”
Mama doesn’t respond right away. Then, her voice, small and tight: “How much?”
He tells her. I can’t hear the number, but I can hear what it does to her—how her breath catches, how silence spreads for a beat too long.
Anton squeezes my hand. I glance down. His eyes are wide, wet around the edges.
I don’t know what to say. So I don’t say anything at all.
[[Next|Calltowar]]