December, 1999

Erik didn't believe in kismet whimsies or anything in relation to it. He was fully aware that the good things in life didn't always last, that things that held meaning decayed, and that loved ones eventually (or prematurely) died. Erik believed in his religion, in God, but he was also a pragmatic man. He knew that good things, and good people, came to an end.

He could recall a conversation he once had with Magda, the first time he brought her to his home in Germany after their chance meeting in America. He had let her in, and watched in curiosity as she touched empty picture frames with a sad smile. They had made love, and after, in the dead of night with nothing but the moon in their window as their sole source of light, they sipped hot tea and talked about anything and everything.

Then she saw it. It was brown, with curled and crisp leaves, and fragile to the touch. It was long past due the need for water, neglected in Erik's lack of attention. She gingerly touched a leaf, and watched as it crinkled and fell to the crumbling soil underneath.

"I'm not very good at taking care of things," Erik had admitted over his steaming mug.

"Nonsense," Magda had said back with a soft smile. "I'll show you how."

He was right in the end.

It was exactly 11:58 at night, according to the ticking clock that Erik loathed. It was nailed to the wall above the television set, and never failed to catch Erik's eye despite the fact that it wasn't anything remarkable in appearance. It was a damn clock.

Erik hated it. Magda loved it. So, it stayed right where it was.

The soft tick, tick, tick was only just drowned out by a overwhelmingly faux laughing track on the television. Erik tiredly grabbed for the remote by his side, unable to see much of anything that the over-saturated screen didn't illuminate. He finally wrapped his fingers around hard plastic, and muted the volume instead of turning it down.

That was when a horrific scream tore through the air. Erik's heart jumped in fear as he pushed himself off the couch. He ran towards the screams, towards the warbled unintelligible words, as he shouted back his wife's name in confusion and panic.

He stopped in the doorway to his daughter's bedroom; his shoulder protesting in pain from how hard he used it to stop his momentum. He couldn't see any blood, or any obvious signs of a break-in or intruder. He could only see his wife's back turned towards him, her body hunched over whatever she clutched to her chest.

Finally, finally when she turned round to face him, his motionless daughter in her arms, did her screams finally make sense: "Erik! Erik, she's not breathing. My God, she's not breathing! Help! Do something! Erik, do something!"

Erik stepped forward in confusion. He felt detached from himself. It wasn't something he could understand. Something he couldn't comprehend. He gathered his daughter from his distraught wife and stared down at the still chest, the blue lips, the blood-drained face.

His silver watch said it was 2:31 am. It had been exactly two hours and six minutes since the doctors had declared their little Anya deceased. He had been solemn faced three minutes into their arrival at the hospital, holding Ruth's (no Anya's) bracelet in his hand. Erik had shook his head in disbelief; Magda had sagged against Erik before she fell to the ground. She wouldn't stop screaming.

He could only half hold her as his knees crumpled beneath him. He fell with her; she was nonsensical, he was stunned. He didn't remember if the tears on his cheeks were his own or Magda's. Or maybe they were drops of melted snow from outside? He would always remember the stark, white snow. And blue. He would always remember the color blue.

He wouldn't remember rustling papers, beeping machines, overlapping voices, phones ringing, IV stands squeaking as they rolled pass or even Magda's screams.

He would remember the white-noised vacuum of silence.

He would remember the Star of David deeply imprinted into the palm of his hand from how hard he clutched his father's handcrafted bracelet. His sister's bracelet. His daughter's.

Erik doesn't remember being sedated.

TBC...

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