"She's too young!" protested her father, staring wide-eyed at the crumpled letter in his hand.
Her mother continued to stir her tea, back turned to him. When she finally spoke, her voice was hard, and Emilie recognised the tone. When she got like that, there was no arguing with her. It seemed Emilie had inherited that. "It's her duty. I want her to do some good for her motherland, and more so I want a daughter I can be proud of."
The words cut through Emilie like a knife, and she barely refrained from cringing. She had been standing in the doorway to the living room for the past five minutes, having snuck downstairs when she heard her parents fighting. So far, it didn't seem like they had noticed her presence. Her father took a step towards his wife, looking desperate, "Helga, look at me, please. Let's just talk about this. You aren't thinking straight." He paused, letting out a sigh, "I know you'll regret this."
Helga shook her head, turning slowly to face her husband. Her voice was soft, but the determination and stubbornness was still evident in it, "Don't you want your daughter to be a hero, Thomas?" Her ice blue eyes bored into him.
"Don't I get a say in this?" Emilie stepped forward, making her father jump when he realised she had been standing there. Her mother's eyes flicked briefly to her daughter's face, before she went back to preparing her tea that seemed to be taking an awfully long time to prepare.
"Go back to your room, Emilie," she ordered, and that sent a wave of fury to surge through Emilie's veins. Wasn't her own mother even brave enough to face her? Coward, she thought bitterly, wanting to say it aloud for a second before it occurred to her it would most likely only end up with her having a stinging red handprint on her cheek.
When she made no move of leaving, her mother let out a sigh, shoulders rising and falling. It seemed as though she had something more to say, but before she could continue, a little voice made them all tense.
"Lizzie?" Her baby brother asked, and when Emilie turned she saw him peering at the trio from around the corner, "Mama? Papa? You know I don't like it when you fight."
She saw her father swallow uneasily and cast his eyes to the floor. "We aren't fighting," he assured him weakly, and Emilie clenched her jaw. She was sick and tired of them constantly lying to Tobias and herself, "We're just talking like grownups. Don't worry."
Tobias shook his head. "That's not your talking voice," he insisted, making Emilie glow with pride at his unwillingness to be fooled, "That's your fighting voice."
Emilie knew her parents loved each other, but they had married when they were young, when her father had visited Germany for work when he was just 19 and she was 20. Now they were in their forties, and they fought almost every day. She suspected they would already be divorced if they didn't have two children to raise – not that they did much of that, anyway. From the day Tobias had been born, when she had been just seven years old, Emilie had taken it upon herself to care for her baby brother; feeding him, playing with him, reading him stories and even dressing him. She had been infatuated with him and still was, and he idolised her in return. Now he was ten and she was seventeen and it was still the same story.
Her father made no other move to argue, staring at Helga's back pleadingly, as though willing her to help comfort their son. But when she didn't turn round, only stared out the window into the overgrown back garden, Emilie muttered a curse to herself and placed a hand on her brother's shoulder. "C'mon," she guided him out of the room, pressing him to her side, "Let's leave 'em to it."
She had intended on taking him back up to his room to play, but he wouldn't have a bar of it. So instead she let Tobias stay in her room, giving him a short book to read and ruffling his hair before walking back downstairs.
"Lizzie?" he called just before she reached the door leading back out into the upstairs hallway.
She turned, smiling at him with one hand on the doorframe. "Yeah, my main man?"
"I love you," he told her simply before flicking open the book, leaning back on her pillow and beginning to read, eyes trailing over the page as he tried to decipher the words. It was in German, but he was already fluent in both English and Deutsch.
Emilie's heart swelled and her smile broadened. "I love you too. More than you can ever know."
But her good mood quickly faded as soon as she was back downstairs. It was as though the house was actually colder down there, and less sun shone in through the drawn floral curtains. Her mother and father were now on opposite sides of the room, her father slumped in a chair with his head in his hands and her mother sipping her tea at the small dining room table in the kitchen.
"I'm not joining the army," she announced as soon as she entered the room, leaning against the wall with her arms folded across her chest, as though challenging anyone to argue with her, "I want to go to university. You know that."
Helga didn't look up as she muttered, "This is more important, child."
"Like Hell it is!"
"Watch your language, Emilie. You would fit right in the army with that vulgar mouth of yours."
Emilie glared at her. "You just want to get rid of me," she almost spat, "Well, now I'm staying here until I'm fifty. How about that, huh?"
"I don't want to fight with you," Helga heaved another sigh, pressing her lips to the mug and closing her eyes. As though she expected that was the end of the conversation.
In a moment of blind fury, Emilie lashed out and knocked a small ceramic statue from the cabinet beside her. Her father's head snapped up but he remained silent. Helga only gave her a murderous glance, but also said nothing. That was just liked the rest of her childhood: being ignored. "Fine," Emilie's voice was now quiet as she fought to stay at least a little calm, a near impossible thought now. Before she even knew what she was saying, she told them, "Fine. You know what? I'm done with this. I'm leaving and… And…" She searched her mind for the first name that she thought of, "And moving to Australia!"
Her mother didn't react, as though she didn't believe her. As though this was just another one of her meaningless tantrums that was forgotten the next day. Well, forgotten by them, perhaps, but Emilie remembered every fight they had ever had. And it was infuriating.
"I'm doin' it," Emilie insisted, turning and bounding up the stairs which squeaked under her weight. Half of her hoped they would attempt to stop her, but another half realised this was what she wanted. And they could never say anything to prevent her doing it, anyway, "I'll be out of this place by dusk. Adios, Germany! We had a good run."
"Don't be so dramatic," her mother yelled after her, "Get back down here, Emilie Elizabeth Demont, or you won't have to leave. I'll throw you out of my house!"
"It's not just your house," she vaguely heard her father say softly, but her mother shushed him and he, of course, obeyed. It seemed as though Emilie was the only one actually brave enough to confront her. They called Hitler bad, but her mother put all the other tyrants to shame.
Momentarily forgetting her brother was still in her room, she barged in, slamming the door against the wall, and ripped her suitcase from her wooden wardrobe. She unzipped it, almost getting her skin caught in it as she did it in such a hurry, and began throwing the bear necessities in: dresses, stockings, socks, shoes, hats, jewellery, pants, shirts, skirts, books, a picture, a spare toothbrush and comb, until she had to stand on the bag in order to close it. Panting from the effort and the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she leaned against the door of the wardrobe and allowed herself to sink to her ground. That was when she saw Tobias staring at her quizzically, the book in one hand as he crouched on the end of her bed.
She could have sworn she felt her heart skip a beat as they stared at each other. Emilie, for once, hadn't even considered Tobias, hadn't even taken him into account. She couldn't leave him, her baby brother and best friend. He needed her, or at least that was what she told herself. Her parents would ruin him. Maybe he wasn't as tough and persistent as her. Maybe they would break his spirit and crush his dreams, as they had tried to do so often with her. Maybe they would succeed.
All these thoughts spiralled through her head, and she forgot to breathe until her lungs began to ache and scream for oxygen. Emilie sucked in a shallow breath and slowly rose to her feet, a little unstable. "Um," she began, but before she could say anything more, Tobias slid off the bed and wrapped his arms tightly around her.
"I heard everything," he whispered into her clothes, "Please don't go," He looked up at her, green eyes huge and begging, like a lost puppy. Tears were beginning to glisten in their depths, and she felt her heart shatter in two, "Please don't leave me."
"I have to," she murmured, but she knew that wasn't true. She wanted to. She was choosing to abandon her baby brother. But it wasn't like that, she tried to tell herself, but still the intense guilt was crippling. Emilie closed her eyes, choking on her words as they spilled from her mouth, "But I'll still write you. Every day. And you can come and visit me, Tobi – I'll even pay for it when I get a job in Australia. You want to see the kangaroos, don't you? They're your favourite animal."
She trailed off as a tear slid down her cheek. She didn't want to let him see her crying, so crouched down and buried her face in his blonde hair, breathing in the familiar scent. He was nearly as tall as her, and somehow that was even more painful. "Oh, I'll miss you so much, Tobias," she continued when she thought she could speak, "Promise to send me letters, okay? And talk to me on the phone, just to tell me how school is going. Every boring little detail. I want to hear it," She looked up to face him, "Promise me."
Tobias nodded, brow furrowed and chin quivering as he fought to regain control. For some reason, that made her smile thinly. "I promise. And you, too. You have to tell me how boring University is, Lizzie."
Emilie laughed sadly, nodding. "I will. You have my word, little guy." She glanced over at her suitcase and felt her heart squeeze painfully. That was when she remembered the necklace hanging around her neck. It was a small, silver pendant of a dog that she had been given as a birthday present from one of her friends, and had never taken off. It was engraved with, 'for my darling Emilie. Friends forever.' Tobias had always loved it, playing with it whenever he was sitting next to her. Pausing, she raised her hands to the back of her neck and carefully pulled off the necklace, holding it in her hand for a second and gazing down at it before prying open her brother's hand and dropping the silver piece into it. "To remember me by," she explained gently, brushing a stray strand of her brother's crazy hair out of his eyes and tucking it behind his ear.
"Like I could ever forget you," He rolled his eyes but took it thankfully nevertheless, examining it for a few seconds. Then something seemed to pop into his mind, and he untangled himself from her hold, running from the room. She tracked his footsteps as he ran down the hall and into his bedroom. She heard him looking for something, before he reappeared a minute later, gripping his favourite soft toy with both his hands. It was a bluebird that he always had with him while he slept, ever since he was three years old. He held it out to her, but she, over-whelmed, shook her head.
"I can't take that from you," she protested, feeling bare without her necklace.
Tobias shook his head and walked towards her, shoving it into her arms. "I want you to have it."
Emilie took it, staring down at the little toy, with its beady black eyes and clawed feet and magnificently blue feathers. "Thank you," she whispered, at a loss for words, "This means so much, Tobi. I'll treasure it always."
That was when she realised the sun was already beginning to set. It couldn't already be time to leave. But, upon checking the clock, she saw it was nearly 6:00. And the last train left in just fifteen minutes. Time had flown, and she swallowed back a sob. She couldn't let Tobias see her cry. So, she rose, collected her suitcase, and swept her eyes around her room one more time. This might be the last time she ever saw it. But she had never been particularly attached to it, anyway, after so many bad memories of fighting had occurred there. Biting her bottom lip, she ushered her brother out of the room and closed the door behind them.
She struggled with the heavy bag as she walked down the steps, making Tobi walk behind her so she didn't accidentally trip and crush him. He offered to help, but she denied. She didn't need him hurting his back just as she was leaving him alone with their incompetent parents that never let them go to the doctors because it cost too much money, despite the fact her father had a high-paying job and her mother was a secretary.
Her mother and father looked genuinely surprised to see she actually was planning to leave. Thomas rose, staring at her with his mouth partially open in shock. Helga raised her eyebrows. Emilie briefly thought about hugging them, but shoved the idea roughly aside. Instead, she turned to her brother and pulled him into a tight embrace. "Be good for your parents," she told him softly, making sure her voice was just loud enough for her mother and father to hear her say 'your' parents, instead of 'our'. Her mother stiffened, but made no move to correct her.
And then she was gone, out the door, with one last look at her family before the door was slammed in her face. They didn't even offer her money, not that she would have taken it. Her father stepped forward to place a hand on her brother's head awkwardly, and she felt her heart plummet. All she could do was hope he would be okay without her to protect him. The cold air buffeted her hair, and her muscles ached from carrying her bag, and she had only been doing that for a few minutes. The last of the sun's rays were just visible over the tops of the houses, and the lights were now shining in every home through the windows. Goodbye, she thought to herself, lowering her head and walking briskly from her house of nearly 18 years. If she looked back, she guessed she would have seen her brother watching her wistfully from the front window, but she didn't glance back.
Only when she was sure no one could see her crumbling did she allow the tears to fall.