*Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters portrayed by Ralph Fiennes & Embeth Davidtz in the movie "Schindler's List" and is purely fiction. I do not support Nazi ideology. *
Chapter 10: Dangerous curiosities
Helen tosses and turns in her bed in efforts to find a comfortable position. The summer heat is continuing late into the night. Helen lies on her back and wonders what time it is. The thought of wasting precious bedtime frustrates her. Finally she kicks off the blanket, gets up from the bed and walks out of the bedroom.
In the dark kitchen, Helen traces her way towards the cabinet with both hands. Just as she reaches for a cup, Helen notices dim light glowing beneath the kitchen door. Judging by its weakness, it must be coming from the drawing room. Helen worries that she left a lamp on. She quietly tiptoes her way out of the kitchen. As she reaches the entrance of the drawing room, Helen gasps and dodges behind the dining room wall. She caught a glimpse of the Commandant.
'Did he see me?'
She stands nervously, waiting for her name to be called… but hears nothing. Helen carefully peeks into the room. He stands near the far corner of the drawing room, drinking in front of an open French door. The moonlight reflected by the whiskey glass shines a bizarre glow on the Commandant's face. He stares out into the city in deep slumber. Helen always considered him to be somewhat of an insomniac…but she doubts he's up due to the heat of the night.
She senses trouble and wonders what's going on with the Commandant. He's been acting strange lately…his mind seemingly preoccupied elsewhere. It's been a long time since the Commandant showed any signs of emotional outbursts, which is rare if you knew him as well as Helen did. Despite holding back his violent temper since moving to Vienna, Amon did occasionally throw objects across the room or yelled at Helen whenever stress affected him. But he did not touch her. Helen and Amon had an unspoken understanding that they shouldn't be attracting unnecessary attention from others while living in the city. This isn't the Płaszów camp anymore. There were too many curious eyes are ears surrounding them. Helen also assumed that the Commandant was shaken by her suicide attempt and is afraid she might do it again.
A mouse will bite the cat when cornered.
For the past week, the Commandant seems withdrawn and distant. Not that Helen craves for his attention. But the longer this eerie peace continues, the more it keeps Helen on her toes. Amon is like a bomb… no one knew which direction the fragments will fly off. Whatever is bothering him may one day bring him to the brink of explosion, resulting damage in catastrophic proportions. Who can guarantee it won't be tonight? Helen decides to return to her room.
As she turns to leave, Helen suddenly hears the Commandant cough. She freezes on the spot. A chill runs down her back. Helen debates whether or not to peep into the drawing room or to hurry back to her bedroom. When stillness returns, Helen's curiosity outweighs her fears. She carefully tiptoes and looks into the drawing room. Amon remains on the same spot. This time Helen examines his face and her eyes widens. Helen covers her mouth with her hand. That look has resurfaced…she is amazed to see it once again. Since she first witnessed that look, Helen assumed she made a mistake or that it was a figment of her imagination. But tonight, she confirms it was real. It did happen.
And it's happened again. The Commandant nearly sheds a tear.
As the train roared its engine through the darkness towards Vienna, Helen found herself sitting across from the Commandant in the dining car. The row of glass flush mount lighting on the ceiling created a cozy ambiance. There were few other occupants in the dining car, murmuring over their late supper, busily clinking their silver utensils against the porcelain plates.
Sitting in close proximity to Amon was excruciatingly uncomfortable for Helen. The only time they breathed the same air was when she served him or when he beat her. Now here they were, sitting face to face, sharing a meal, as if this was part of their daily routine. Helen considered this new civilized circumstance with her tormentor absolutely ludicrous. She wondered how the dynamic of their relationship would shift from now on. By her free will, Helen chose to be under Amon's custody. She anticipated how he would test his leverage on her life. Rape? Torture? Murder?
It didn't take long for Helen to find it out. Amon started questioning Helen about her family. She didn't feel comfortable sharing her personal life with the Commandant. Helen wanted to resist his access to her privet chambers of memories… she didn't want its innocence to be tainted by the very hands that destroyed it. But she didn't have much choice. She had to give in.
"My mother passed away when I was thirteen," Helen said without looking up from her plate.
Amon drew his eyebrows together but Helen failed to notice the change in his expression. She kept her head down to avoid eye contact. She focused on cutting the food before her and took small bites.
"That's unfortunate. The cause?"
"…Cancer."
"I see."
Amon lifted his glass and took a sip of red wine. Helen chewed slowly.
"It must have been difficult. Did you father remarry?"
"…No… he never did."
"So you became the mother figure?"
"…Yes."
Amon nodded. "You grew up quickly. It's no wonder you are good at taking care of me."
Helen nearly chocked on a piece of carrot. With great effort, she swallowed it down her throat. Did he consider beating her daily and coming close to sexually assaulting her equivalent to taking care of him? The endless possibilities of his twisted mind never failed to amaze Helen. Being a fast eater, Amon finished his meal before Helen. He wiped his mouth with the napkin and reached into his pocket for cigarettes. After a few puffs, he spoke in a low voice.
"I understand what you must feel. I haven't been with my mother since I was four years old."
The statement made Helen feel odd. The Commandant's efforts into find common ground with her was awkward and unpleasant at its best. It didn't make her feel any closer to him, nor did it develop any level of sympathy toward the inhuman creature sitting before her.
'The unholy spawn of the devil…' Helen thought.
She did start questioning the woman who gave birth to a demonic being.
'A cruel woman herself perhaps …bad earth mixed with bad seed. That will explain a lot.'
Helen waited for Amon to continue, but he stopped talking all together. When the silence continued, Helen nervously glanced up to see what Amon was doing. She saw him leaned back on the chair, gazing out the window and deeply consumed in his train of thought. A tinge of melancholy and longing filled his usually cold blue eyes. Helen swore she saw tears well up in his eyes. All this caught her off guard. Helen doesn't know how to react to the unexpected sight of the Commandant's grief. She dropped her eyes down and soon heard Amon sniff his nose, as if to drink in the tears.
She never forgot that look.
*Hello everyone! I deeply appreciate your love and support of my little story "Hidden Lives." After finish writing Chapter 10 this week, I thought it might be a good time to get connected with the fans. I've decided to conduct a fun Q & A session, so send me your questions via private messaging. The questions can range from the direction of the story, my person vision/intention for each character or even questions about me, the author. I will post the final Q & A on Chapter 11. Thanks!*