Her Fate [Aksel]

[Heidi]

Country: Germany
Current Time: 18:48
Weather Conditions: Warm, slightly humid, a faint breeze in the evening. A good, clear, summery night.


+++++++++++++++++++++


It had been nearly a week since the shooting. Doctor Strumfelder was somewhere in a hospital, the wound in his chest being stitched up by other doctors, and down for the count for the time being. Suspicion surrounded his "attacker", whom many were now saying was an Allied spy. The child had been moved from the hospital while she had been unconscious, placed in a cell while her fate was debated by the Nazis. Many were calling for her to be shot, just in case she was with the Allies, but no final decision had made.

Adelheid was unaware of this. She had fazed in and out of a stupor ever since waking up, wrapping herself in the thin sheets of the small, hard bed within the cell. Every meal handed to her went untouched, left on the floor to grow cold and collect dust. Turned away from the cell door, Adelheid would just lay there, only reacting to pain, thirst, and the need to relieve oneself. She was gradually weakening, her body now turning upon her for sustenance in lieu of food; every movement she made was slightly painful as a result. It didn't matter, though, seeing as how she only shifted her weight on occasion, and only to get the pressure off of a certain area of her body. Standing for a few minutes made her feel light-headed, and when she crawled back into bed, it was easy to fall asleep afterwards.

Rhys had visited her here and there. He had not spoken since the shooting, and he just stood by Adelheid, watching over her with sad eyes. Adelheid paid him little attention - he was there, but apparently, her Rhys-angel couldn't do a thing. She appreciated his company, though, and whenever he winked out of existence, Adelheid felt a sense of loneliness stir within her. The stupor would then take over again, though, and the world would be far away and foreign again, the German girl remaining silent in her cocoon of fabric.

One particular evening, Adelheid had been resting when she heard the door to the cells open. Adelheid had lost all track of time, but when someone came to the cells, it was usually either to feed or get a response out of her. Unlike those other times, however, the footsteps were quick and light, the footfalls unlike the heavier version the Nazi men used. Still, she didn't react much, waiting for whoever was there to just come and fetch her untouched food.

[Aksel Bavenn]

Aksel was standing silently at the doorway. He had been standing there for some time. Thinking...just...thinking. Usually when the boy had to think long and hard about who he was and why he was wherever he happened to be, a searing pain would slice through his mind and he'd have...one of his turns, as the doctors called it. But now today. Today he was thinking harder than he had ever thought in his life. Even if his life seemed to be only about a year long.

The "dungeons" of the tiny SS base in Southern Germany was a pathetic array of cells - cages, more than anything - usually reserved as a prison of sorts for the old or weak who had done wrong under the laws of the Third Reich. The cages were borderline derelict and few high-security cases were risked entry.

Guarding these cells was a depressing task. Prisoner deaths at the hands of Nazi soldiers was not uncommon should the prisoners be foolish enough not to relinquish information, but it would be barely worth killing the pathetic specimens that these cells so often held. Many never made it through the night, even when they hadn't had a chance to meet Erhard Strumfelder or his cronies.

But why a ten year-old girl?

Why?

Aksel remembered a phrase of Shakespeare's that Herr Karstenn so enjoyed quipping: "Conscience is but a word that cowards use." It made you weak, he had told him. No good Nazi boy should be dragged down by the burden of conscience.

But why did he feel so upset over the young girl so sat so emotionlessly in the cell before him. Even if he hadn't himself put her there, he may as well have been. She was doomed to imprisonement or otherwise death at the hand of the Third Reich. The Third Reich. A mark that was branded onto Aksel's conscience for all time.

He stepped away from the shadows and retrieved a small silver key from his pocket; he had been entrusted with the object not an hour ago by a kindly old officer by the name of Reichtmann. He pushed the key into the ancient lock of the cell's door, silently forcing himself not to look at the young girl. The lock clicked and the door swung open.

Not entirely sure what he was doing, he closed the door behind him and stood at her side. He was concerned by her lack of awereness; if he didn't touch her food soon then such a small child would not last long. Such a small child. Aksel lowered his head sadly; he was only a matter of years older than her for God's sake.

"Mein Name ist Aksel." he said slowly, knowing full well that speaking openly to prisoners was frowned upon by his superiors...especially since the last time he had stood guard over a prisoner..."Wie heißt du?"

Translations

Mein Name ist Aksel. Wie heißt du?
- My name is Aksel. What is your name?

[Heidi]

His voice was squeaky, to say the least. He was like many teenage boys in that respect, their voices turning strange as they grew older, childish one moment and grown-up the next. It was a bit shrill to Adelheid, who was so used to hearing the deeper, fiercer accents of the older Nazi men. Adelheid's finger twitched, the girl slightly startled by the sudden sound, and her eyes flickered open.

"Wie heißt du?" said the little Nazi boy. Why did he want to know her name? It was Adelheid, or now, Adelheid Strumfelder. Then again, it would probably be Adelheid soon enough, now that Doctor Strumfelder was hurt and in a hospital somewhere. Everyone who knew her name had ended up hurting her, so she decided to stay quiet, so he - Aksel - wouldn't be added to the list. The girl pulled the covers of her bed closer to her body, and then, became still once more, closing her inky black eyes.

Then, there was the feeling of feathers against her face. Adelheid's eyes snapped open, and she twitched violently, nearly jumping upwards at the sight of black eyes staring into her own. The gentle face of her Rhys-angel was only centimetres away from her own, and she frowned slightly at Rhys's expression. He was looking at her sternly, motioning with his chin to look upwards, and was mouthing some sort of word. However, her vision was too blurry to make it out, due to the fact she was half-asleep.

"Gehen Rhys-Engel weg..." Adelheid muttered, pulling the blanket over her face to shield her eyes. She felt so tired those days, she didn't really want to do much other then sleep.... "...Schläfrig...."

Her stomach gave a loud groan, and Adelheid frowned, turning onto her stomach. Her whole body felt stiff and achey from lack of food, and she grunted softly as her weight shifted. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rhys dissapear, and felt her eyes drift up towards the Nazi boy beside her -

His face looked like Rhys's. Rhys's. It was just a little less narrow, his lips a little more pouty, and his hair was blond and his eyes blue.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Translations:

Go away Rhys-angel...

...Sleepy....

[Aksel Bavenn]

OOC: Gah, not my best post, sorry.

Aksel recieved no answer from the skeletal-looking girl. He scratched his head. Maybe she couldn't understand him? Maybe she couldn't speak German? Herr Karstenn said that everybody should speak German. Aksel understood what he meant now. It made more sense really.

Suddenly, the girl looked up at him and...kept looking. Aksel shuffled uncomfortably and frowned as he saw her face. It was strangely familiar. She looked surprised, he noted. It was only as he looked at her that he saw how peaky she looked. Here eyes seemed sunken, her entire face narrow and an almost sickly shade of white. She must have been at least nine or so, but from where Aksel was standing, he wouldn't have been surprised if he discovered that she was six and a half. Her bony body gave the impression that she had lost a lot of weight in a short period of time; she should eat. Aksel was worried about her. He knew little. He was stupid, he knew that, he was told that every day, but he knew that something was wrong with the girl. If she didn't touch her food then she would die. He didn't want her to die. Little girls shouldn't die, he thought defiantly. He knew that much.

But why in God's name was she still staring at him. He guessed that she was deaf, maybe a direct cause of her ill-treatment at the hands of the men Aksel called friends. It would explain why she hadn't answered him and why she looked so shocked to see him here even though he had very loudly opened the cell door. He decided to repeat himself, gently but a tad irritably.

"Mein Name ist Aksel," he said. "Wie heißt du?"

[Heidi]

The subtle tones of irritation in the Nazi-boy's voice scared Adelheid; ever since the incident, she had become a highly sensitive child. In her mind, she could still see the blank look in Doctor Strumfelder's eyes as he was shot, and before that, the feel of his hand grabbing her hair like a rope. That action had been mimicked by one of the guards of her room, who had grabbed her by her hair and tugged Adelheid off her bed, just before she blacked out. The eyes of the Nazis had been blazing, and even a little spark in any of their comrades made Adelheid wary. She knew what she had done - she knew they would not be merciful when the time came, whenever it did come.

A tiny, cracked whimper came from the girl, and with some pain, she slid under the covers, her black eyes still staring up at Aksel. Why did he want to know her name? Was he her executioner, sent down here to finish her off? He looked so much like Rhys...but the boy scared her. Who was he? Why was he familiar? Did he know of what had happened to Doctor Strumfelder? What was going on? So many questions she did have....

"...Ich bin gut gewesen..." came Adelheid's voice, still cracked. She also sounded dry and raspy, now that words were coming out of her mouth. "Ich weiß, dass ich nicht viel gegessen habe, aber ich gut bin, ich bin gut. Ich schreie nicht, oder Pfeifen, bin ich, wenn jemand sagt, 'Schließe oben ruhig.' Ich bin, wenn ich jemand wütend bildete, es war ein Unfall… Doktor Strumfelder, ich wollte nicht ihn töten traurig, ich bin traurig, dass… ich sehr sehr sehr sehr bin sehr traurig. Ich sehr bin, geehrter Herr, mich sorge nicht gut, ich bin gut."

The girl pulled her covers back a little, just enough for the boy to see her eyes, so he couldn't say she was lying.

"Ich…das ich bitte wissen möchte, geehrter Herr, warum Sie mich um um meinen Namen bitten. Viele Leute fragen mich, dass meinen Namen und wenn sie tun, sie zu mir sehr mittler werden. Ich sehr bin nicht jammernder geehrter Herr, ich verstehe nicht. Bitte sagen Sie nicht, dass ich liege, ich bin gutes Mädchen...bitte...."

Her throat and tongue were hurting from speaking so much. She also was becoming tired, wanting nothing more then to go back to sleep, and feel better later. It wasn't a nice thing to have to speak after so long, and Adelheid hoped that, one day, she wouldn't have to speak at all. Back when she was alone, travelling across France and looking for Rhys, she had never had to talk to anybody. Lonely as it was, Adelheid couldn't be hurt by others if no one else was there - if she ever got out, then the child would make sure no one else would be there. The Not-Nazis and Nazis had proved themselves to be nothing but mean people.



++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Translations:

I've been good.

I know I haven't eaten a lot, but I'm good, I'm good.

I don't cry or squeal, I'm quiet when someone says, "Shut up". I'm sorry if I made someone mad, it was a accident...Doctor Strumfelder, I didn't want to kill him, I'm sorry...I am very, very, very, very, very sorry. I'm good, sir, do not worry, I'm good.

I...I would like to know please, sir, why you are asking me my name. A lot of people ask me my name, and when they do, they become very mean to me. I am not whining sir, I do not understand. Please do not say I am lying, I am good girl...please....

[Aksel Bavenn]

Aksel could only understand a small percentage of what the girl was saying, partly because of his less than satisfactory grasp of the German language and partly because her voice never seemed to stay the same for more than a second; she seemed only seconds away from breaking down entirely. The boy had almost no idea what she was saying, but he knew it was bad.

"Nicht weinen," he said gently, kneeling down beside her. As he got ever closer to the girl, he could see just how much she had evidenly suffered in the past. "Es tut mir leid," he added awkwardly, although he wasn't entirely sure what he was apologising for.

Aksel thought for a second and placed a slightly scarred hand into the pocket of his tunic. He pulled out an unwrapped bar of chocolate and handed it to her reluctantly. He wasn't sure if it was against the rules to carry sweets in his military uniform but he reckoned it was frowned upon at least. He hoped she liked chocolate. Everybody liked chocolate.

He smiled encouragingly and wished he could say more. He wanted to tell her that everything would be alright. He wanted to tell her that he would try and look after her. He wanted to tell her that he would make sure she wouldn't get hurt.

But he couldn't. And he hated himself for it.

Suddenly, he remembered a small gaggle of his friends boasting about beating up a little girl while on duty. Apparently she had squealed like a pig. Apparently she had been skinny. Apparently she was nine years old. Apparently she had raven-like black hair.

He had never felt so angry. It was the nature of the strong to pick on the weak, he understood that, but he didn't understand why.

He didn't like being in the Hitlerjunge. He had been told on more occasions than he could remember that it was a great honour, that one day he would make a great German soldier and that der Fuhrer would be proud of him. He had always thought of his "comrades" as being wrong. As being...mean.

He hadn't had them down as being cowards as well.

Aksel continued smiling and waited for the girl to take the offered chocolate, silently promising to kick the crap out of the boys who had attacked the girl he reckoned to be...what was her name again...Adelheid. That was one good thing about the Hitlerjunge, he though to himself darkly.

They teach you how to fight.

Translations

Nicht Weinen
- Do not cry.

Es tut mir leid
- I am sorry.

[Heidi]

Adelheid pulled back as the boy knelt down beside her, his voice now more gentle then before. Her eyes looked fearfully at Aksel, at his gun and the uniform he wore. Nazis did bad things to little girls and boys and women, the events that brought down Saint Peter's Haven evidence enough. What was he going to do now? Maybe grab her hair and pull her out of the bed, like the one soldier back at the hospital did? The thought of such caused Adelheid to pull the covers over her hair, hiding it from view so Aksel wouldn't be tempted to pull.

He told her not to cry. Then, he told he was sorry, but for what? Adelheid guessed he was apologizing for asking her name. The girl nodded reluctantly, and pulled back a little more. Aksel reached into his pocket, and from it, he retrieved a bar of something. With some hesitation, he put it on the sheets in front of her, acting as if Adelheid was a scared rabbit hiding in a bush. It was fitting, seeing as how the girl felt like such.

In the dim light, it revealed itself to be a bar of chocolate. Adelheid's stomach growled loudly, and her wide, black eyes stared at it incredulously. Chocolate...from a Nazi? Why was he giving her chocolate? He must have poisoned it or something, he must have...right?

"...Danke?" came the little girl's voice. A white hand reached out, and a single finger poked at the bar, making sure that it was a bar of chocolate. The finger poked at it again and again, from all angles, Adelheid's mouth forming a little "o" as she investigated the treat. It had been a while since she had had chocolate, her love for such substituted by a love of strudels, courtesy of Herr Jonas. She could feel the pain in her jaw from the urge to eat, a tiny bit of saliva resting on the tip of her tongue. Still, she had to be careful; Doctor Strumfelder could have always sent Aksel to her cell to give her something tampered with.

"Ist diese Schokolade?" Adelheid asked quietly, her eyes flickering back up to Aksel's face. She wanted to make sure he was honest, that if it wasn't chocolate, he wouldn't lie and say it was.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Translations:

...Thank you?

Is this chocolate?

[Aksel Bavenn]

OOC: Bleh, not a good post, been busy with homework, just thought I may as well make a small post so as not to keep you busy. As you can see, I've written dialogue in English because a lot of people have pointed out that it's pretty irritating having to scroll to the bottom of every page to work out the translations.

"Yes," said Aksel patiently, glad that she was at least able to speak. "Chocolate,"

She still didn't touch it. Aksel frowned and then suddenly realised that she was suspicious. She was clever, at least. He had not been that intuitive when he was a young child. He furrowed his eyebrows. He supposed he hadn't, anyway. Everything was still a blur.

He reached out and took the small bar into his own hands and snapped off a square. He popped the square into his mouth to show her that it was all completely harmless and past it back to her with a smile.

As he observed her, he realised how familiar she looked. It was her hair mainly, but he knew he had seen those penetrating eyes before. A face in the fog. They belonged to the face in the fog and he wasn't entirely sure how she had managed to get hold of them. Aksel rubbed his eyes tiredly and drove the image out of his mind. The doctors told him not to dwell on the memories. They weren't real, they were only there to hurt him. Aksel was inclined to agree.

But the girl looked so familiar...

"Why are you here?" he asked gently, hoping no one would walk in on him comforting a prisoner. Aksel still had a lot to learn about the Nazi way of war but he knew that caring for prisoners was an element of warfare his fellow soldiers tended to avoid at all costs. He smiled again, trying to be as comforting as possible.

He only wished that one day he could find someone able to comfort him. And it would take a lot more than a smile to do that.

[Heidi]

OOC - Meh, that's fine. I realize that you're busy, between your studies and your staff work. Also, you've given me an idea - I think I'll try putting my translations at the top of my posts from now on.

Translations:

Ja. Schokolade. - Yes. Chocolate.
Es ist Bonbon - It's sweet
Warum sind Sie hier - Why are you here
Ich…taten schlechtes etwas.... Ich bedeutete nicht…ehrliches.... - I...did something bad.... I did not mean to...honest....

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


"Ja," said the boy. "Schokolade."

His hands reached out, and Adelheid pulled back a little as they came close to her. They grasped at the bar, and for a moment, Adelheid wondered if Aksel was to take it back. Quietly, she watched as he unwrapped the supposed bar of chocolate, and snapped off a small square of the sweet. He put it in his mouth, smiling, and then handed the treat back to her.

Adelheid was still suspicious. It could've been some sort of...medicine...that made Nazis more...Nazi-ish...but she could've been wrong. Her stomach growled again, and Adelheid rubbed it; for the first time since being shot, the girl actually felt hungry. Slowly, one of her thin, pale hands grasped the bar of chocolate, and she slowly pulled it back. Raising her other hand, Adelheid snapped off a square of her own, and slowly placed it into her mouth. She sucked on it for a moment, but then her nose wrinkled, the girl's tastebuds overpowered by the sweetness. It had been a long time since she had had chocolate.

"Es ist...Bonbon...." said the child, her tongue scraping the remnants of chocolate off the roof and sides of her mouth. Her stomach groaned again, this time because of the chocolate. As soon as the food hit her empty stomach, she could feel it shifting uncomfortably, and Adelheid's brows furrowed. It was rich...very rich. Heck, it was even richer then the nutty-tasting chocolate treat Onkel Mac had given her. Adelheid's eyes glanced upwards, and she was about to speak, but then Aksel did.

"Warum sind Sie hier?" asked the little Nazi. Adelheid's breath caught in her throat, and the sound of the gunshot immediately rang in her ears. She pulled back beneath her covers, pulling them close, as if to hide herself. Her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch, and it groaned softly. The chocolate probably wasn't going to last long, especially after she had gone so long without food....

"Ich…taten schlechtes etwas," whispered the girl. "Ich bedeutete nicht…ehrliches...."

[Aksel Bavenn]

Aksel sighed. Her explanation wasn’t exactly satisfying but she obviously had no intention of sharing her offense with him. Perhaps her crime was so vile that she could not bring herself to speak of it? Aksel shook off this possibility without a second thought. That would be ridiciolous. She looked innocent. Wary, but innocent. Maybe she, like so many others, had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

The Third Reich was growing increasingly paranoid of Allied intelligence officers and spies – anyone they could blame on the German failiure in the East. And in the West, for that matter. The Germans liked their scapegoats, Aksel knew that. The Jews, the homosexuals, the Jehova’s Witnesses, the gypsies.

Aksel wasn’t entirely sure where he fitted in, what label was his. He supposed he was German, or that was what the officers told him he should work hard to be. He knew he wasn’t a Jew, anyway, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what made someone a Jew.

Aksel remembered hearing something about the Jews on the television a week or so earlier. The word “infection” had been mentioned, certainly. Perhaps you became Jewish from some sort of illness.

He turned back to the girl, lost in his thoughts. Was she a Jewess? She didn’t look Aryan, her hair was too dark. Just like the hair of the face in the mist. The similarity was uncanny. Aksel wasn’t sure what or who he looked like. He hadn’t looked in the mirror deliberately for years. He wasn’t sure why, but he was scared of what he might see in the reflection.

“Is there anything you would like?” he asked gently. “A drink, perhaps or…do you like writing? Perhaps I could get a pencil and some paper for you. Stories or pictures or…” Aksel scrunched up his face trying to remember the word. “Or journal. Our secret, yes?”

[Heidi]

Translations:

...Ja. Ein Getränk…und ein Buch, bitte. - ...Yes. A drink...and a book, please.

Aksel, sendete Doktor Strumfelder Sie? Wenn er… dann sich nie kümmerte. Ich war gerade dumm. Bitte nicht erklären Sie ihm dass, er wütend wird. Ich warte gerade mein Abendessen, wie ein gutes Mädchen, stattdessen. - Aksel, did Doctor Strumfelder send you? If he did...then never mind. I was just being stupid. Please do not tell him, he will get mad. I will just wait for my dinner, like a good girl, instead.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


A journal.

Adelheid's head snapped up with unusual speed, her eyes wide and round. They showed discomfort towards the word, and unease at Aksel's request. Strumfelder had violated her privacy, reading her journal and then tearing it apart to try and break her. He did it in the end, but not because of the journal; that didn't matter now, though. The picture of her Rhys-angel she had drawn after the diary was torn up had been lost, taken from her some time while she slept. She could draw a new one, and always remind herself of her Rhys-angel...but then there was Doctor Strumfelder to worry about....

No, a journal was too risky. He would just take it again, and learn all her secrets. She could draw, however, and read books. The latter would be very nice, and maybe a drink, too. Her throat was dry from all the talking. Her expression sobered, and her face became mostly even once more, the girl's neutral shell slipping.

"...Ja," Adelheid said quietly, a barely-visible smile tugging at her lips. "Ein Getränk…und ein Buch, bitte."

The girl bit her lower lip, and then, she suddenly looked scared, eyes falling. She pulled the covers close, realizing that she might have made a mistake. Doctor Strumfelder was a brutal man, and it was too easy to send someone to her to see what Adelheid was doing. Yes, he was in the hospital, but he could still get her. He had hit her and shot her, and he would probably do it again - the Nazis always did things like that.

"Aksel," said Adelheid, half-seriously and half-desperately, "sendete Doktor Strumfelder Sie? Wenn er… dann sich nie kümmerte. Ich war gerade dumm. Bitte nicht erklären Sie ihm dass, er wütend wird. Ich warte gerade mein Abendessen, wie ein gutes Mädchen, stattdessen."

The girl then dissapeared beneath her covers, pulling them close to her skinny form.

[Aksel Bavenn]

Aksel smiled. The girl was speaking and speaking properly. What she said wasn't particularly encouraging but...it was still speaking.

"Doktor Strumfelder did not send me," he said, slowly. "He is an important man and is at important place. Herr Karstenn told me to come down. He is a good man. And Doktor Strumfelder is a good man also,"

He was surprised at the confidence in which he said these words. He wasn't entirely sure what good was, and certainly not bad. It was too confusing for him. The Bible said that he wasn't supposed to kill but...he had killed. And when he did kill, people told him he was a good boy. He didn't understand it but he liked being called a good boy, he knew that. He didn't like the killing, however.

"I have water for you," he offered, bringing out a half-empty canteen. It held more water than the young girl had probably drank in the past three days. He handed it over to her carefully, anxcious that tossing it to her hands would alarm her. She was like a frightened bunny rabbit, he thought to himself. "And...and paper if you would like?" His hand slipped into his tunic and he withdrew his only posession of any value whatsoever; his beloved journal.

He rifled through the yellowed pages and found a blank canvas; he ripped it from the book and handed it down to the girl with a smile. He also passed a pencil over to her, glad that the thawing period between them seemed to be over, or at least for the most part.

As he went to hand this last item over to the young girl, however, he tripped and, in his surprise, let go of the journal. The faded book thudded down into the cell next to the girl, its open pages before her, stained and muddied.

He felt an anger ripple through his bloodstream. It was his journal. His. He crossed to the girl, his eyes ablaze with fury. He wouldn't let her read it. He raised a fist almost without thinking. For a second, he actually considered hitting the girl in a blind panic.

"Sorry," he murmured, his eyes meeting hers.

[Heidi]

Translations:

Danke - Thank you
Nein - No
Ich bin ein gutes Mädchen! Ich bin ein gutes Mädchen!! Schlagen Sie mich nicht! Schlagen Sie mich nicht, bitte! Ich war nicht im Begriff, ihn zu lesen! - I'm a good girl! I'm a good girl! Don't hit me! Don't hit me, please! I was not going to read it!


+++++++++++++++++++++++++


Adelheid's blood suddenly went cold. Doctor Strumfelder, a good man? That was impossible - not just that, but it was a lie. Doctor Strumfelder had shot her, given her the wounds on her face that had to be stitched. He had read her journal and then torn it apart, all the while insulting her Rhys-angel. He had shot an innocent man down before her, and yanked on her hair, and...and asked her to kill herself....

Suddenly, there was the offer of water, and Adelheid snapped out of her train of thought. Slowly, she pulled the covers off her head, her eyes betraying her wariness. Her arms slid out into the open, and her palms pressed against the thin bed, the girl weakly pushing herself up into a kneeling position. She swayed slightly back and forth, her head spinning a little from the sudden rush that came. Adelheid breathed deeply in and out, trying to control her dizziness, and then reached out and took the canteen. After holding it for a moment, staring at the thing suspiciously, the girl slowly unscrewed the lid and sniffed.

Nothing. It smelt perfectly normal, if not a little rubbery. For a moment, the slight odour even reminded Adelheid of her own slingshot. With a quiet, "Danke," she sipped slowly, stopping after only a few mouthfuls and handing the canteen back. Even such a small amount of water was making her stomach hurt; her gut had become too unused to nourishment. Still, it felt like it was enough, and Adelheid seemed to be a little better.

After Aksel had taken the canteen back, he began fumbling around in his pockets, and took out some sort of small book. For a moment, Adelheid wondered where she had seen it before, but then realized it looked similar to her old journal. Aksel flipped through the book for a few moments, then tore out a page and handed it to her, along with a pencil. Once more, Adelheid said, "Danke," and took the items from him.

And then, he somehow tripped. The book fell onto her bed, open, revealing pages with text on them. The girl's eyes widened, and she reached forward, planning to close it before she accidentally read anything important. Strumfelder had read her journal, and he had torn it up; it was deed most low. If Adelheid sunk down to the doctor's level, then she could never forgive herself -

Suddenly, Aksel's eyes were boring into hers, and she became white as a bleached bone. Just as Strumfelder's cane had been raised, Aksel's fist was held high over his head, ready to strike Adelheid down. Her eyes widened, she shrieked in terror, and Adelheid smacked his journal to the side, the book spinning away and off her cot. She then whisked under the covers, the faces of Aksel and Strumfelder mingling in her mind until they were both the same.

"NEIN!" the girl screamed, shaking furiously. Tears were now streaming down her stitched-up face, her chest heaving with sobs. "Ich bin ein gutes Mädchen! Ich bin ein gutes Mädchen!! Schlagen Sie mich nicht! Schlagen Sie mich nicht, bitte! Ich war nicht im Begriff, ihn zu lesen!"

[Aksel Bavenn]

Aksel let out an involuntary deep intake of breath as the girl began to scream. He took a step backwards subconsciously and cursed silently. What was wrong with him?

He fell to his knees hopelessly; his eyes widened as he realised what he had been about to do. The girl had disappeared under the safety of her cot's covers; she was still screeching but Aksel couldn't hear, let alone understand, a word she had said.

"Adelheid," he whispered. "I am sorry. I did not mean to...I...I am sorry..."

There was no reply other than the endless eeriness of the girl's frantic protests. Aksel was disgusted with himself but the disgust was out-weighed by an all-empowering feeling of pity on behalf of the young girl. If someone wronged Aksel, his first emotion was anger. The girl's was fear. It was almost as if she had given up entirely.

He took a deep breath and whisked off the flowing covers, tossing them to the floor. He looked into Adelheid's terrified eyes and said nothing. He just stared at her. He wanted to say sorry, to beg her to forgive him...but he couldn't.

Aksel swallowed, leaned down and lifted up his muddied journal. He wiped it twice with the sleeve of his tunic and tucked it away again. He sighed.

There was no point. He had spent the last few minutes forcing a thawing process and now...he was back to square one. The girl had clearly been ill-treated - she was probably even mentally unstable. And what had he done? He'd tried to bloody hit her.

She was scared of him, that much was clear. And, as much as he hated himself for it...he felt almost powerful because of it.

"Goodbye, girl," he said coldly, his eyes miserable. Being nice didn't work, he realised. People only got hurt that way. Better to just...be a Nazi. At least, then, no one could expect anything from you...

He brought his arm up into the air in a Hitler salute. "Someone will be with you soon," he said.

And with that, he left the large room, his boots thumping down forbodingly on the stairs that lead from the holding room. As he left, he could feel tears prick his eyes but he ignored them.

After all, he thought. He was a Nazi....

[Daniel Brennan]

Mod-Post

CP:
Addie: 10CP

Aksel: 10CP (You can buy yourself a new journal! ;D


~Dan