*Hello everyone! Hope you all are staying safe and healthy. Without further ado, here is Chapter 29. Thank you always for being such a loyal fan :) *
*Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters portrayed by Ralph Finnes & Embeth Davidtz in the movie "Schindler's List" and is purely fiction. I do not support Nazi ideology. *
Chapter 29: Disintegration
Helen rolls to the side and reaches out to find the lamp knob in the darkness. With the sound of a click, the room brightens with warm light. Helen rubs her eyes and glances at the small table clock next to the lamp. It's nearly 1 a.m.
Another sleepless night.
Helen falls back on the bed. For the past week, she finds it difficult to achieve deep slumber.
'Why am I not tired enough?'
Helen can't feel a hint of exhaustion. Her mind is clear, and her body is wide awake.
Helen sighs and sits up. She decides to stop forcing herself to sleep.
Helen quietly scans her room that is still unfamiliar to her. In a strange way, Helen misses her old room at the Goeth's. She thought she got used to the loneliness. Now she admits not just missing her previous room but the Goeths themselves.
When she moved in with them, Helen resisted getting close to Felix and Liesl. Not only to protect herself, but because they supported the Nazis. Helen kept reminding herself that the world's generosity is towards Lena, not the Jewess Helen. Nothing in her life can be perceived as being truthful. But towards the end, the Goeth's warmth and sincerity won Helen over. It's difficult to harbor hatred towards people who make her feel part of their family.
A month ago, Helen received a letter from the Commandant. It informed Helen when she should be moving into their new house. Liesl told her that the location was a recently developed district, reserved only for the selected few. The fact that the area is under heavy security attracted high-ranking Nazi officials and the wealthy influential Viennese. The district layout provided plenty of space and privacy between each house.
When she arrived at her new two-story brick house, Helen was greeted by a simple note left by the Commandant. He was not present to welcome her himself. Amon briefly stated that he will be on a business trip to Berlin and will return in a few weeks. Helen made an educated guess that it's related to the appointment of the new chancellor. The rumors about the infighting and power struggle over the leadership continued since Hitler's funeral the previous year. The assembly attended by Nazi officials from all over Europe will finally determine who will succeed the late Führer. The Commandant's note ended with basic instructions accompanied by a generous sum of money. Helen felt a of tinge of disappointment as she ran her finger across his handwriting.
The house was already well prepared before Helen moved in. Furnitures were placed and belongings were organized in the appropriate rooms. At first, Helen was puzzled to see that there's no servant's quarter near the kitchen area.
'Where's my room?'
As Helen continued to inspect the remainder of the first floor, through the dining room, pass the living room, she came upon the hallway that lead to two rooms. One turned out to be the Commandant's master bedroom, the other his home office. Helen was able to trace the familiar scent of Amon's cologne.
'Is he taking over the entire first floor?'
'Then… is the second floor all mine?'
When Helen reached the second floor of the house, she came across three doors. The closest door to the staircase turned out to be the bathroom. Between the remaining two doors located at each end of the hallway, Helen first made her way towards the left door.
What immediately caught Helen's eye was the familiar light grey color velvet chaise from the guest room at the previous apartment. The room was decorated with the entire furniture she admired so much.
'Is this my room?'
Helen found her belongings inside the wall closet, neatly packed in boxes and suitcases. Helen felt relieved after inspecting and confirming that everything arrived safely.
After leaving her room, Helen walked down the hallway to look into the last room. Smaller in size, the room was practically empty. Helen wondered how the room can be utilized; a spare storage, guest room or perhaps her own work room. She imagined placing a table for her typewriter on one side of the room and a sewing machine on the other. The work at the publishing company offered Helen a small salary. She finally had money she can claim as her own. If she saved enough, she can purchase luxury items such as a typewriter or the latest sewing machine.
Since her move, Helen busies herself everyday with organizing and cleaning. Strangely, Helen doesn't worry about the possibility of him unleashing his anger over to the state of the household not meeting his standards. That type of behavior seems to be from a distant past. Fear isn't what is driving Helen towards perfection.
She wants to please him.
Helen gently rests her head against the headboard.
'Sleepless nights? Why Helen?'
Helen asks herself a forthright question. She knows the truth very well.
Because he is home.
Helen bites her lips. The Commandant finally returned from Berlin three days ago. But whether it being intentional or accidental, Helen has yet to see him. Amon remains either locked in his bedroom or the office. Helen first thought the Commandant was tired from the long journey. She set Amon's meals on the dining room table and gave him his space. Helen started to worry when the meals continued to be barely touched.
'He's becoming a ghost.'
Helen looks up at the ceiling with a blank stare.
'Is he purposefully avoiding me?'
Helen closes her eyes.
'Enough with such thoughts!'
Helen kicks the blanket away and gets up from the bed. She feels a slight chill as her feet touches the cold floor. The night is deathly calm. Yet Helen thinks she can feel his energy vibrate through the wooden panels. Amon's bedroom is right underneath hers.
'He is sleeping and dreaming peacefully.'
Helen shakes her head. What she needs is a diversion, something to pull herself out before falling deeper below. Helen's eyes fall to the bundle of papers and books placed on top of the vanity. She remembers bringing them home a few days ago as an exercise to improve her translation skill. The quiet night might be an ideal time for her to focus on studying.
'Some warm tea might help too.'
Helen puts on her robe and prepares to head downstairs.
(One month ago)
Reich Chancellery, Berlin
"Mony!"
Recognizing the voice, Amon turns around. What catches his eyes isn't Freddie's familiar face, but a new limp his old friend has acquired. Though Amon heard the extent of Freddie's injuries, actually seeing it in person shocks him. Due to his ideal Aryan looks, sportsmanship, intelligence and pedigree, Freddie was always crowned as the ideal Nazi officer among his peers. The man walking towards Amon now is the casualties of war. The sight somber Amon's mood.
"I was wondering if you were coming to Berlin," Freddie says.
"I'm surprised you made it as well."
"Ah, just in the nick of time. I had to attend some business before coming."
Amon can read between the lines.
"How is she?"
Freddie refrains from answering. He looks around and checks their surroundings. Freddie then motions Amon to follow him to a spot near the corner of the courtyard. Amon tries to slower his pace to match Freddie's limp walk. Leaning against the building wall, Freddie reaches into his pocket for his cigarette case and lighter. Amon lights his own cigarette as well.
"Ingrid tried to kill herself," Freddie says dryly.
Amon drops his cigarette to the ground.
"It wasn't her first attempt and won't be the last. But this one…this one was a close call."
Amon stands numb with shock.
"There's no solution to the matter."
Freddie takes a long drag of his cigarette.
"I thought about an early retirement. You know, getting away from it all. Perhaps join her in Switzerland. But in a strange way, my job is what guarantees her safety."
"I've heard that Himmler wants you to work for him in Berlin."
"Ah, yes. The infighting was quite brutal. He can barely trust anyone nowadays."
Amon has heard about the vicious battle that occurred within Hitler's inner circle immediately after his death. No one was groomed or named in Hitler's will as his replacement. In the end, the victor was none other than Martin Bormann, Hitler's privet secretary. Throughout the years he gained the Führer's trust and assembled a powerful alliance. Bormann played the long game and used cunning tactics to beat all his rivals, including the biggest one of them all, Himmler.
"This won't be the end," Freddie says.
"Not accepting defeat?"
"You really think my godfather was saluting to the new chancellor this morning, promising loyalty?"
Freddie sneers.
"Never underestimate him. He'll be waiting for the right moment. But that also means Berlin may experience some turmoil in the near future."
"No one will replace the Führer. It's absolutely impossible…"
"Really?" Freddie cuts Amon mid-sentence.
Amon detects a strangeness in his friend's voice.
"You think no one will be greater than him?" Freddie asks, almost mocking Amon.
"Are… are you insulting our great Führer?"
Freddie calmly drops his cigarette to the ground and squashes it with the sole of his boot. His calmness upsets Amon further.
"I get that you are bitter that Himmler didn't become the chancellor, but…"
"It's not about my godfather. It's not about Bormann. Fuck all that, Mony."
Freddie looks around, making sure no one is close by. He leans closer to Amon.
"Before the election, practically everyone in the inner circle waged a smear campaign on each other. My godfather was no exception. A dog eat dog world, I tell you."
"My godfather heard a rumor a long time ago about this top-secret vault where the Führer kept his officer's indiscretions researched and recorded. To keep everyone on a tight leash or to blackmail? No clue."
"Miraculously he did find the vault, but there weren't any files on his rivals. Instead there were files on the Führer himself. That's when my godfather realized that the vault was to keep the Führer's secrets."
Freddie drops his head and stares at the ground.
"Did he find anything significant?" Amon asks quietly.
Freddie lifts his head and faces Amon.
"There are suggestions that the Führer may have Jewish blood."
WHAT?
"Are…are you… insane? How dare you speak such lies!" Amon growls.
"I hope it's not true either," Freddie replies calmly.
Amon feels his body tremble so hard he can barely stand.
"You son of a whore! I'll shoot you right now and blow your brains out!"
"You think I fear death? Go ahead Mony. End my misery."
Suddenly, both men hear footsteps nearing them. An officer passes by with a curious look on his face. Amon tries to compose himself.
"Don't you ever spread such foul rumors about the Führer!" Amon says once they are alone again.
"Because it will tarnish his legacy? The legend? Mony, when will you open your eyes? Have you not heard of how messed up he was with all that shit Dr. Morell fed him? He nearly burned the empire to the ground while being high on cocaine!"
Amon can't deny that fact. It was widely known how much Hitler favored his personal doctor and how the controversial doctor was admistrating experimental drugs to fuel the Führer. Dr. Morell's personal greed for wealth and power could have also contributed in shortening Hitler's life.
"Energized for the nation's sake? No Mony, he was seeking his own selfish oblivion while dragging everyone down with him."
Freddie takes a step forward with his arms open, showing his limp walk.
"Look at me. I'm the result of it all."
Amon stares at his friend, facing the truth. The ideal Nazi officer and his perfect Aryan wife became completely dismantled by sacrificing themselves for the Third Reich. What is left… is complete wreckage.
Is this what has become of the ideal world?
The ground beneath Amon begins to spin.
Following the orders of a coked up Jew?
Amon opens his eyes. Being in the comfort of his own home doesn't seem to be helping Amon sleep. He sits up, groaning from the back ache he'd accumulated from the long train ride.
'But it's been 3 days.'
Amon stares blankly at the wall across the room. The night's silence is eerily uncomfortable to him.
Amon buries his head in both hands. His head is overloaded with too many unanswered questions. None of them can't be verified. Amon thinks he can actually feel the force of chaos building up inside his brain. All that was compartmentalized is starting to unravel.
The Berlin Affair…Freddie…the Führer
'Everything was a lie…'
Amon jumps up from his bed. As he makes his way to the connected bathroom, Amon turns and decides to head to the office instead. Perhaps tonight he may be able to find the truth by rereading The Berlin Affair for the tenth time.
As Amon enters the hallway, he sees a trace of light coming from the dining room.
'Is Helen up as well?'
Standing in the darkness, Amon debates whether or not to see her. His plate is full as it is tonight. A distant memory creeps back to Amon. What drove him to visit Helen down at the basement back in Płaszów didn't begin with lust. As boisterous as Amon can be during the day in the company others, Amon returns as a loner at night. Helen always had the mysterious serene warmth that made Amon want to reach out to her. Through her own circumstances, Amon assumes Helen can understand what it's like to be alone.
Amon sighs. He feels like a selfish bastard. But he doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts tonight.
He needs to unburden.
Helen hears footsteps nearing her. She looks up to see the Commandant walking into the dining room, like a ghost emerging from the darkness. Helen drops the pencil and slowly rises from her chair. As Amon casually walks up the table, Helen is able to examine him closely under the light.
'He doesn't look well.'
"Good evening… or morning to be exact," Amon says with a hint of forced humor.
Helen returns a slight nod.
Amon pulls out a chair across from her and sits down. Helen follows suit.
"What are you working on?" Amon asks, pulling a piece of paper towards him.
"Translation. Between Polish and German."
Amon nods as his eyes travel down the sheet of paper. Since they last saw each other in Paris, Helen wondered how their union may play out. Would there be another moment of intimacy? A conversation? Regrets? Perhaps violence? Helen quietly observes the Commandant. Something is off about him. Helen fails to pinpoint what it is.
'One thing is for sure. He doesn't look well rested.'
Amon gently places the paper back in front of Helen.
"Can you make me something to eat? Something simple."
Helen nods and quickly gets up from her seat.
Helen enters the kitchen and switches the light on. She reaches for the copper kettle and place it under the faucet. As she waits for the water to fill the kettle, Helen uses the cabinet glass to adjust her hair.
'With him, there's always an unexpected nightly encounter.'
As Helen prepares to heat the pastries and sausages, she hears the kitchen door open. Amon enters the room and walks straight towards the small kitchen table placed next to the window.
'He wants his meal here?'
As she moves around the kitchen, Helen glances at the Commandant to see what he is doing. Amon sits motionless, resting his head in his right hand while observing the sleeping city. He's lost in his own thoughts.
'Did something happen in Berlin?'
Helen finally presents a tray of food accompanied by warm tea to the Commandant.
"Thank you," Amon says, sitting up straight.
Sensing Helen's hesitation of not knowing what to do next, Amon gestures to the chair across from him.
"Please, join me."
Helen nods and takes her seat. Her eyes follow the Commandant's hand as he grabs the fork and reaches for one of the sliced sausages. Helen feels like an anxious mother, hoping her sick child will gobble up his food. Helen frowns at she watches the Commandant barely taking a few bites before putting the fork down.
"There's nothing wrong with your cooking," Amon says apologetically.
"I've been... dealing a lot of stuff lately."
Helen sits in silence, instinctively knowing he isn't telling the truth. Of all the years she had been with him, the Commandant never lost his appetite due to stress. He may use violence or consume enormous amount of alcohol to reduce his stress level. But never starve.
'Is he ill?'
Amon pushes the tray forward, placing it between himself and Helen. He crosses his arms, almost hugging himself tightly. Amon then leans forward and stares down at the table.
"Have you ever questioned all that you were brought up with? What you were told to believe in?"
The question startles Helen.
'Is he about to challenge my religion? My heritage?'
"The belief system that created you… what if you start doubting them all? What if you start questioning every single influence that made you? Can you distinguish the truth from fabrication? If all that turns out to be false, are you a false entity as well?
Helen has no clue where the conversation is heading towards. The Commandant's comments are far too cryptic for her to understand.
'Am I listening to the incoherent rambling of a mad man?'
Amon leans back and sighs deeply. He looks up and their eyes meet.
"Can I trust you, Helen?"
Helen holds her breath. This isn't the first time the Commandant has questioned her loyalty. Yet this time, the question doesn't come off as a form of interrogation. His pale blue eyes are pleading.
Helen nods.
"Come with me," Amon says as he pushes his chair back.
After a brief hesitation, Helen follows the Commandant out of the kitchen. For a split second she fears that he is taking her to his bedroom. Helen intentionally puts enough distance between her and the Commandant. As Amon turns and opens his office door, Helen breathe a sigh of relief.
Helen watches in silence as the Commandant unlocks one of the bottom desk drawers with a key. He pulls out an object wrapped in brown paper. Holding it with both hands like a sacred object, Amon slowly walks over to Helen.
"Open it," Amon says, handing it to her.
Helen's eye moves between the Commandant and the object. She takes it from him and carefully unwraps the brown paper.
'A book?'
Suddenly, Amon grabs Helen's both hands with his. His touch is so electric that Helen immediately blushes.
"This book can not leave this house," Amon says sternly.
Helen sees fear in his eyes. Amon gently releases her hands and Helen manages to inspect the book. There is no title. She opens the cover and flips a few pages.
The Berlin Affair
'It can't be!'
Helen turns more pages and sees the author's name.
Hans Goeth
Helen gasps. She looks up to see the Commandant staring down at the book, his usual icy blue eyes filled with melancholy. Without a word, Amon shuffles out of the office, leaving Helen alone with the book. Helen stands almost paralyzed until she hears his bedroom door close.
Helen can't believe what she is holding…a mixture of the holy grail and a grenade. A book so great that it was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize and so powerful that the government forbidden its existence within the Third Reich.
'How did he get this? What's in this controversial novel? Is this why he's been acting weird?'
The book clearly had an influence on him. The only way to find out why is to read it.
'But why is he sharing this book with me?'
Helen traces back to the Commandant's question.
Can I trust you, Helen?
Helen hugs the book close to her chest.