It was probably the strangest sight I had ever seen, although it should have been expected given the situation. Underneath the neatly made bed was one thing I hadn't really thought I would find, it impressed me she had been so quiet given the tears that were falling so freely from her eyes. Her cheeks were red and her amber eyes were weighted with water at the edges, dripping down her face. The lithe woman's flushed face was framed by disheveled brunette hair that shone brilliantly in the afternoon light, even under the bed. The Italian had turned over when I had pulled away the bed skirt to find out what that strange noise was that came from under the furnishing.
Her back was turned to me, but I already see that her shoulders were shaking and her legs were twitching. It was easy to see just how scared she was, it was rolling off of her trembling form like a thick fog. A part of me didn't want to touch her, she would probably scream, and that sound always haunted me. Now of all times I didn't want those voices coming back, I didn't have Anya nearby, I didn't want to be stuck with those haunting voices with no hope of relief.
I hesitated before reaching under the bed, despite the feeling of my heart folding in on itself, I knew if someone else found her and I didn't I could get in trouble. My gloved hand brushed up her back before resting on her shoulder where I gently tugged her towards the outside.
She seemed to freeze like a small animal of prey in the eyes of a predator, her quivers ceasing and her body going stiff. I pulled her out from under the bed anyway, my expression as stoic as I could make it. Not a few inches I had moved her before I had to put my other hand in on her hip and pull her the rest of the way, although careful not to give her any splinters, I didn't want her to end up with an infection when on the way to whatever camp she would be headed to.
The thought of the camp made an unpleasant shiver lick up my spine and I tried to dismiss the thought but only made more images flicker through my mind. It didn't take long for the voices begin to sing their chorus of blood curling shrieks and pleads of mercy. The sounds made my stomach fold and my heart sink, the same symptoms as always. My hands were shaking but I forced them to still, I didn't want to scare her.
Just as my head ache began to resurface and pound at my temples I turned my attention back to the small Italian woman that I was still holding under the bed. I realized I had been day dreaming, I suppose one could call it that anyway, and immediately began to pull her again towards me.
But as soon as her small body had been slid out from under the bed, and I had moved my hands again so one was on her right shoulder and the other on her left hip, and her arm had bumped into my knee; I glanced down to actually see her. The woman seemed to shiver and curl up more when I turned my eyes down on her, and for some reason, it made dread rip through my stomach.
Sure, it was normal for me to feel guilty at what I did, but how long had this been going on? I had been taking all these people from their homes for so long now. The war had been in full swing for so long, I supposed I had never really thought about how long all of this guilt had been building up. When the voices appeared I guess I was slightly suspicious as to if it was getting to me, but I simply dismissed it, deciding not to focus on the voices too long.
But right then, that moment that I stared down at this woman, quivering and eyes squeezed shut, shriveling up like an autumn leaf, all because of the fear that was pulsing through her like a prey animal in the jaws of the predator; I finally realized how long I had been fooled. Fooled into the mindset that these raids for people were something I couldn't fight against, that I couldn't use these times to my advantage; that I couldn't help people during these. Sure, I didn't believe I could do it large-scale, but…perhaps just this once. Surely I couldn't be caught, right?
The thoughts flooded in as I immediately ripped my eyes off of her as more tears leaked out her eyes and into her hair, her crying was still silent, her breathing shallow. I raked my gaze across the room, searching for somewhere to hide her; surely there was a place. But, it was all barren and obvious.
Cursing under my breath I unconsciously began to tighten my grip on her shoulder, causing the woman to squeak and open her eyes open in surprise. Her face was framed by light brown hair, a few streaks here and there from the sun highlighting it. The woman's face was soft and her features were round and girlish. Her hair was a tangled mess of a thick braid, thicker than my fist actually. From the side of her head sprang a curious curl that seems to shake as with her tiny shivers that I had only just noticed were racking her body.
Just the sight of her quaking made the voices began to pound and slam at my temples again, clawing at my head and dragging down my insides. I shuddered at the feeling and tried not to let it get to me, but just that small notion. That she felt so much fear and terror because of me, a man I had didn't want to think about, let alone be.
Before the war I was just a German man with light blonde hair that would hang in my eyes if I didn't comb it back like I usually did. I preferred that it be quiet so that I could work or at least concentrate on something such as a novel or other light reading. I loved to wear formal clothes, deciding I'd best look professional when people viewed me. Although at home, where I had a hobby of exercising often, I could be caught in loose fitting clothes that would be easy to jog or lift weights with. I would listen to the news while I cooked or when I was cleaning, only a few months ago (or was it a year?), did I hear about a public speaker beginning to surface in the country, an Austrian man whose name could be found in the newspapers.
And now, here I was. I read from time to time, and I still preferred it to be quiet, but the bomb sirens don't make that easy. My clothes I wear in public on the job are ones that many people shudder at the sight of. My clothing tends to be of a green color, a uniform to be exact. I no longer cook at night or clean the house myself; Anya tends to do that. Now I avoid the news, I get it directly from subordinates whenever there's an Axis victory. Normally they all invite him out for drinks if it's a major victory, although sometimes a minor victory is enough for them. My training was daily now, and I carried something much more heavy than a simple weight.
I carried a swastika on my armband.
Immediately I let go and she squeaked again, staring up at me with her large
amber eyes, shaking and watering. Stiffly I leaned down and quickly whispered, "Stay quiet," but when I did she only shook harder and didn't seem to understand. "Crap, you don't speak German do you?" The girl stared at me still, her gaze oblivious and confused. I bit my lip, scrambling for a moment before wrenching out those stiff words, "Do you speak English?" the phrase made me cringe. My English had always been terrible, sure I didn't freeze up and not know how to say certain things, my problem was that I had trouble pronouncing some of the words. Silly things like 'squirrel', whenever I reached a word that I couldn't quite croak out, I would quickly evade the word or run through synonyms for it. Perhaps for other people it wasn't hard for them to just say the word or laugh it off after they get themselves tongue tied; but for some reason I always felt far too embarrassed when I couldn't pronounce a word. It was probably my pride that made me fear looking foolish; as my brother had no problem shrugging it off and having a laugh about it.
But despite my words being so heavily accented and quiet she seemed to understand, "Y-yes…" She said, panic still plaguing her eyes. "W-what are you going to d-do to me?"
Just as I opened my mouth to respond I heard voices from outside the room, perhaps in the other room. The barking of German made a shiver run up my spine and I quickly glanced around then turned back to the woman, "No time, what's under these?" I pointed at the floor boards I was crouched on and she gave me a confused look.
"N-no one," But I shook my head again, growing impatient and nervous.
"Nein! Is there a space beneath these!" She seemed to cringe at my tone but shook her head, her amber locks flopping over her face.
She held back a few more tears and stuttered out, "T-there's a space beneath them because the house was made w-wrong." Then she shut her eyes as though flinching from an attack.
Before she could say anything else I had popped up from my place and began prying up the first loose board I could find. Obviously before I did anything that would hide her I bumped the door most of the way closed. It was then that I realized it, 'I was hiding her, I'm saving a life.' The thought made a flurry of thrills run up from my stomach to my spin and up to my head. But I quickly sobered and forced up the board, inspecting the small space below.
I glanced back to her and motioned for her to come towards me; finding she had sat up watching me with curious yet fear filled eyes. The woman stayed where she was for a moment, but then left her place, stumbling towards me with a confused expression. As soon as she was in arms length I snatched her into my arms and lowered her into the space carefully.
It was so strange the way I could vividly recall the details of how her small frame fix perfectly in my arms, and how light she was. The way she curled into my embrace was so warm and affectionate, like a helpless lamb finding the shepherd again. The scent of her was so sweet and swirled up by my face, momentarily making my head spin. What was this? This warm feeling I felt when I held her close; this embrace that lasted but a few seconds, why did it make me feel so safe.
Where could this come from? Had I fallen into a different world? A feeling this tender and sweet couldn't possibly exist in the world I was familiar with. My world was one consisting of grey skies and murder all around me, jealousy, vengeance and hatred clashed and brawled across the land. No hand of mercy touched anywhere in my world, a simple caress of gentility would throw off the balance surely. Just like that painting, that sunrise couldn't be real. It had to simply be a fictitious scene someone dreamed up; just like that bewildering flood of warmth and security I felt at that time.
Mere seconds felt stretched and long, but strangely, I didn't want them to end. Never had I been able to recall a feeling as that one. Ever since the beginning of the war, and well before, this feeling that made everything melt away around me. And more importantly, made the voices silence. It was like Anya's song was playing again in my head, yet, the only sounds I should have heard were raspy voices barking in German. But instead all I could hear was the soft sound of rain beginning to drip onto the window and roll down the glass. The voices disappearance made me feel like a weight had been lifted off of me as I held the girl near me in those few seconds. No matter how long that time felt, it only left me wanting more when it was gone.
As those moments fell away from me, so did the feeling, slipping out of my arms and carefully tucked under the floorboards. The young Italian was fit snugly in the space and curled her hands over her heart and stared up at me. "G-grazie," She whispered, making something move in my chest.
It was so strange, I felt like it wasn't really happening, more like a vision or a dream. Part of me was in awe of the girl, not screaming when I touched her. I was a monster wasn't I? Didn't she smell the scent of death clinging to my uniform? Another part was nervous and insisted on making my hands tremble in fear of being caught. The adrenaline from both sources made me feel light headed, and everything felt odd.
But somewhere inside of me, I could feel it, like a small flame being lit. Somewhere all of that guilt, all of that longing, it all suddenly came upon me in a flurry of joy. It shot a thrill up from my stomach and clear to my hairline. I felt like a prisoner laden with heavy shackles that after years of sitting inside their cell was finally freed. Like suddenly the sun had broken through after the long, harsh hurricane.
Those feelings, each coming quickly and making my lips twitch up a bit, made me feel like the war didn't exist. Almost as though I had dreamt up all those terrible horrors, just a nightmare I had been plagued with repeatedly. And to have that taken away, to be rid of that terrible dream…
It was absolute bli-
"Ludwig?"
I know, another cliff hanger, I'm a jerk. : P anyway, I'm SO SORRY for how late this is...and I feel like I cheated you wonderful people...this chapter is really short and crappy. I apologize "=_= I'll make up for it in the next chapter, I promise!
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
Please review~! I love those things like my own dear (demonic) kitten~! : 3