"You know, the more that I think about it, the more I'm convinced that you really shouldn't have to carry this burden."
I smile- a thin line of a smile with no happiness behind it. "He's hardly a burden, Fuhrer Grumman. My Selim is a brilliant boy, and I'm perfectly content to face any challenges that he might present."
Grumman plays with his mustache. His eyes are distant, difficult to read. "I don't doubt his brilliance," he says slowly. "Learning to read before his third birthday- why, that's no easy feat. But think about what his precocity may mean… think about it. It could be that he is recovering his memories from before. And… I don't mean any offense by this," he begins, raising his hands in a placating motion, "but I doubt that you are prepared for the consequences of him remembering."
My plastered-on smile remains. "I assure you, Fuhrer Grumman, that I am prepared- and I seriously doubt that his abilities are connected to his past life. It's far more likely that he is simply a precocious boy- nothing more."
Grumman exhales, shaking his head. "Wishful thinking," he says, removing his glasses, rubbing at them idly. He looks down the hall, and I follow his gaze. Selim is down that hall, playing in his room.
"Well, I'll be back in a few weeks," Grumman says, rising from his chair. "Thank you, Mrs. Bradley; your tea was delicious, as always."
"You're very welcome. I look forward to your next visit." That's not entirely true, but I don't let any negativity affect my voice. I've learned better than to show how I really feel about the Fuhrer.
He leaves, his guards surrounding him. I remain sitting on the couch for several minutes, waiting, on the off-chance that Grumman and his guards might burst through the door, seize Selim, and dash away, out of my life.
After minutes of waiting, I'm satisfied that they won't try that stunt today.
I sigh, picking up my book. I flip through it idly- I've already read it several times, for my life is an endless cycle of reading, sewing, gardening, cooking and cleaning. I'm essentially under house arrest. I have no friends anymore- no one must know that Selim is alive, and even friends could betray my trust in that respect.
This is the price that I must pay to remain his mother, and, although I wouldn't trade him away for all the freedom in the world, I can't help but get discouraged and lonely at times, especially when Grumman questions me in such a manner.
"Mommy?"
Selim pokes his head out of the hallway. I smile. "What is it, Selim?"
My son hesitantly approaches me. "Why doesn't Fuhrer Grumman want me to stay with you? What was he talking about?"
I don't know what to tell him- he can't know about his past. But his eyes are filled with worry, and I can't leave him hanging like this. "Come here, Selim," I say, patting the couch cushion beside me. "
Selim sits beside me, leaning against my side. He's getting so tall already- his legs almost touch the ground, something that wasn't true last year. I wrap my arm around him. "You remember what I told you about your father, yes?"
"Yes, Mommy. He had to work really hard, being Fuhrer. He was always concerned for his country."
"That's right," I say. "And also, he sometimes did bad things, because he thought that they were the right thing to do. It was a mistake, but he thought that it was right."
"Do you mean that Fuhrer Grumman might make those same kinds of mistakes sometimes?" Selim asks, his voice level. He already understands what I'm talking about.
"Yes."
"But…" Selim looks up at me, confused. "Does that mean that I'm… dangerous, or something? I mean, why else would he bother worrying about me living here?"
This is harder to explain than I hoped that it would be. "He thinks that you might be..."
Selim stares ahead. It's impossible to tell what's going through his head. "Do you think that I'm dangerous? Why would you think that?" He turns towards me, eyes wide. "Did… did I hurt you, and I just don't remember it, or something?"
"No… no, of course you didn't, darling." He doesn't understand how close to the truth he really is. "But you know what?" I ask, smiling as reassuringly as possible. "The idea that you're dangerous… it's just his opinion. He has nothing to back up his claims with. You've never done anything dangerous in all the years that we have lived together here in this house."
I don't think that I succeeded in getting rid of his worries. But he turns to me, smiling. "Thanks, Mommy. I think I understand now." He slides off of the couch, running back towards his room. "I'm going to go play now; bye!"
"Bye, Selim." I wave after him, an uneasy feeling still inside of me. I didn't tell him the whole truth- but how could I? How could an innocent child understand what I am still unable to comprehend- that my darling boy was once a monster?
It isn't really a matter of opinions here… it's more a matter of which theory will prove to be correct: My theory, and my sincerest hope, that Selim is a good and innocent boy who only needed love and care to flourish- or the other option.
A/N: This one went kind of weird… it turned out way too depressing. I do want to clarify, if it's not evident in the story already, that Mrs. Bradley truly wants to remain Selim's mother, and is fighting for that right, but she's had to make a lot of sacrifices as a result. She's a really strong person, though, and I think that things will get better for the two of them.
Thanks for reading, and a special thanks to the people who read my previous two stories as well; I really appreciate it!
