Author Note:
This is my first ever fanfic. Feel like this part of the story is really needed. Hope y'all enjoy. (I'm not from the south but one of my teacher's uses of y'all is affecting me)
Dear Fräulein Engle,
After several new pieces of evidence coming to light, the Judges had agreed to acquit you on the charge of assisting and conducting experiment on children as part of the Ravensbrück trial. This may come a surprise to you, but as of this moment, you are a freewoman. It is probably best for you to not dig further into the evidences in question as they are protected under the Official Secret Act. However, I would like to remind you this an act of kindness by the British Government and should not be taken lightly.
The Machiavellian Intelligence Officer with the spectacle
July 24, 1947
These few short sentences stunned Anna in her small Berlin Apartment. The guards had left her earlier in the day while handing her this letter. Sure, she had wanted to be free, but she had already accepted she will probably be 70 when she got on a plane flown by Rose. She looked around the small apartment contemplating her next move. She had avoided thinking about the future in case she got sentenced to death. But now, she realized, she still has much more to do.
She remembered the 7 leather bound journals of her late employer- SS Hauptsturmführer Amadeus von Linden. Sure, the rank of SS Hauptsturmführer is no longer a rank after the war, but she will never be able to think of him as anything but. She was going to leave them to Isolde after her father's suicide but she just couldn't do that to a little girl. She still remembers the day she went to visit her. It was during Isolde's winter break and before she started working in Berlin.
It was the Spring of 1944, I thought I owns Linden's little girl an explanation. After all, I did help with the explosion at the La Chateau des Bourreaux. I likes to think I played a hand in Linden's death, but deep down I knows it's all because of that Scots piece o'shite (I always smile when thinking about Julia, the irony of "treason").
After some digging, I was able to get Isolde's aunts address. But when I arrived at the small town they were residing, I was having second thoughts. The journals were weighting me done, both my poor arm and my disappearing conscious. Isolde's aunt house is surprisingly easy to find. The house looks like a winter home for royalty. It's exterior looks dark and foreboding but also grand and luxurious. The first floor is surrounded by floor-length window and the upper floor boast a few baloneys decorated with many brilliantly shaded flowers. At the moment, all the curtains were drawn, and it looks like there is nobody home. I was secretly glad that I no longer has to make this unpleasant meeting. But my luck seems to be running out, because a girl in high collar white blouse and a deep blue skirt suddenly lifted the curtain to peer out. Even though I consider myself to be perfectly blended in, the girl immediately noticed me with my newly ironed brown suite.
I suddenly panicked upon seeing a curtain being lifted as I cannot see the hand doing it. If not for the front door opening and the little girl calling out, "Wer bist du?" I might had long fled to Berlin. The girl who opened the door is short in statue, but that shortcoming is made up by her air of authority.
I immediately went up to the door and introduced myself as the secretary of her late father. As soon as I mentioned Amadeus, the girl facade of control fell apart. She immediately opened the door and usher me in as if she is the lady of the house. It took a moment for me eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room while Isolde invited me to sit on a sofa that is probably worth more than all the cigarettes that Scots piece o'shite had smoked. Another silent chuckle. Now there is this silence suffocating both of us in this large sitting room. Finally, Isolde said in a refined and unaccented German, "You worked for Papa, you must be Fräulein Engle " . It was both a question and a statement, but I was shocked for a second that this girl know my name.
"Yes"
"Why are you here?" free of accusation just curiosity.
"I want to see how you're doing", half-truth. I still had not decided if I should ruin the innocent of the girl in front of me.
Isolde didn't respond right away, she stood up and decided to pull the curtain next to us for a sliver of light. I thought for a second that Isolde is hoping to read my face, like father like daughter (except without the torture bit).
The light also highlighted Isolde's features. For a second, I thought I saw my favorite Scots piece o'shite by the window. I almost fell out of the sofa upon this realization. No wonder von Linde always tried to be so detached but at the same time fascinated by that Scots piece o'shite. Isolde have the same blond hair except for a few streaks of bronze. They are both around 5ft 2 and have some of the palest skin one could find. I was sure that Isolde will grew taller as she is only 13, but I'm saddened by how Isolde posture looks defeated and almost given up. She is quite skinny but not being starved does wonder for a person's soft curves. Isolde's eyes narrowed when she realizes I was checking her out. I made a quick note on how Isolde's eyes squint looks eerily like her father.
"My eyes does look awfully like my father", Isolde replied as if she can see into my mind,
"to tell you the truth, I'm not doing well. My father killed himself as you are aware of."
Isolde cold and detached voice might be able to fool most people, but to a treacherous disgrace likes me, who had to wear a mask all day, it was obvious she was hurting. And she was hurting bad.
I whispered quietly, "tell me about him".
I can see her trying to hold herself together, just like her father the day before Julia is being sent away. But Isolde had lived her life in the realm of the sun, she cannot hold herself in any longer. She allowed a tear to fall and another one.
I tried to comfort her as best as could, "he would want you to live and enjoy life."
Isolde looked almost ashamed with her head down and nodded her head slowly while allowing her golden blond hair to fell around her.
I didn't know what to do, hell, I don't even know if von Linden is a good father. But before I could pass a judgment, a voice brought me back. Except this time, it was a song from an opera.
"Isolde noch
Im Reincj der Sonne
Im Tsgesschimmer
Noch Isolde...
Sie zu Sehen,
Welch Verlangen"
I know those words, those were the words on that dissertation of treason.
I feel like I should interrupt Isolde as her eyes are now glassy and she appears almost dazed in her pursuit of the sun.
"Tristan und Isolde "
"You know this?"
"I heard your father song it once", another half-truth. I think I'm getting the hang of this.
"It's good he still sings. After mother died he lost his voice", there is a silent bitterness to her tone, "So he sang it for you, huh?" When Isolde scanned me with her piercing eyes, I instantly knew she got the wrong idea.
"No, no. He sang it when somebody mentioned you." Another truth that might very well be a lie.
That line seems to be the hammer that broke Isolde apart.
"Oh, papa. How sorry I am. Oh papa, how could I had ever doubted you...I'm so stupid."
Now I am just confused. What could this girl do that wronged her father?
Isolde continued on, "I'm sorry I accused you of seeing someone else. I'm sorry I accused you of being a coward. Oh, I'm sorry that I ever thought you are evil."
I tried to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but the truth is, I'm never good with the touchy-feely things. At this point, I had made my decision that I will not show her her father's notes. They will break her.
Her face is red now, so I wasn't surprised when her hands went up to unbutton the buttons at the top of her blouse. She continued her tale,
"I know people think Papa is mean"(Define mean, does torturing a young girl count?)
"But he is the best papa anyone could ever have. He would never be mad at me. He was only upset with me when I was scared of him. I broke a vase, I thought he would hit me with that leather belt that grandad always claim made him a good officer. But he started crying when I asked him if could spread out the lashed because I saw how the pupils at his school almost died after a good whipping. He told me he would never hurt me, he even said he doesn't believe in the belt either. So I asked him why does he still use at his school? He never answered me because I think he is afraid. Oh, he is always so afraid. But at the end, fear isn't what got to him, is it?"
I was shocked by the version Isolde had of her father. Sure, I didn't expect worst father of year, I still would not be surprised if all SS officers are wife beater and child abuser.
Isolde shifted in her seat, now her elegant neck is in the light path from the window. I made a silent gasp as I noticed the blue and purple finger marks around her neck. She saw me staring and smiled a tight smile that no 13 years old should know how to, touched her neck gingerly and immediately looked upon the grandfather clock in the corner.
She emitted a gasp of her, as she immediately stands up and said,
" Fräulein Engle, you need to leave now. My Uncle will be back home very soon, he cannot see you here"
I want to ask her about the bruises, I want to ask her about her future, I want to ask her about this uncle of hers. But she had already started to push me toward the door.
What she said before she opened the front door will probably hunt me for a long time,
"My uncle consider my father to be a traitor to his Führer, he want me to stay home and serve him... in anyways he want," A pause that seems to last eternity. Almost in a whisper, she plead for me to "Come back soon"
Her last phrase had an urgency that seems to convey, if I don't return soon, she is not going to be there any longer.
I want to say that was the last time I saw Isolde von Linden as the Isolde from the opera, but I don't believe I ever know the girl that is in the realm of the Sun.