In this chapter I deal with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's very real, very common and can be extremely distressing, especially for recovering soldiers. It has little Obsessive Compulsive themes to churn up the mixture.

Enjoy.

Spring cleaning usually happened seasonally in any average German home. Or the average home, probably, across the world. It was something done every couple of months to catch up with any untidiness, clutter and mounting filth on the inside of appliances or any thickening dust on old shelving.

But not Ludwig's home.

This was the 2nd consecutive time he had initiated a thorough clean of his home this month.

His bedroom was the easiest, next to the bathroom. Both were very sparse, simple rooms that based their design entirely on simple needs. In his bedroom he slept, dressed and groomed himself. The bathroom was reserved for relieving himself and maintaining his hygiene. The bathroom required more attention and more products, but it too was always straight-forward.

Unlike his office, being one of the hardest places to clean, considering it also included organising every document, sorting his post from receiving to sending, file paperwork and cleaning the area. It was very tedious when everything had to be set back into 90 degree angles if he could help it, every piece of stationary put in the desk draw or displayed neatly on the desk surface. Doing so without having to misplace things for too long or make a mess while he rushed through it was very difficult and stressful.

Ludwig, decked out in a cleaning apron, gloves and supplies, entered the kitchen.

It often got very disorganised in here. Contaminated by bacteria from all manners of foods and substances, which were at risk of going-off should the room not be maintained. The surfaces having to endure hot trays, spitting oil from a frying pan, bubbling pasta sauce, flour, egg and spice and salt crystals on a regular basis. Peoples' health were also had serious risk.

He scrubbed dutifully at the kitchen counters like it was a crusade, blitzing through the floor, appliances and windows. Eventually, he put away his washcloth back into the bucket he was using, and paused. Ludwig trailed his hand to a more powerful degrading spray product, before tentatively turning his attention towards the one part of his home he dreaded.

Sitting between two counters was The Oven.

He stared at it, lungs shivering with hollow breathes as Ludwig efforted himself to keep breathing steadily, even while cold seeped through his veins from his core up into his head and down into his fingertips, eliciting a shudder.

He gripped the nozzled-product in his hand, lifting it from the table and picking up a rough scrubbing sponge.

The Oven grew in size as his feet shuffled forward, encroaching the distance until it was a mere few feet away.

Ludwig knelt, lifting a hand to grip the Oven handle, before tugging down and pulling it open.

The door dropped with his grip like a lower jaw, revealing a gaping, merciless maw. The rail trays were visceral and dirty against the raw blackness of the inside, the inside of the Oven door charred by burns and black splatters. He breathed out loudly and hastily began to scrub the door.

However no matter how much he roughly scrubbed at the surface to make sure nothing was left, he couldn't escape that it was clean in minutes. The scrubbing action slowed to nothing as blue eyes rose to peer into the dark, grimy space. The inside was in desperate need for attention. He slid out the rail trays and lay them on the floor.

His eyes fluttered and darted around the door in anxiety, feeling lightheaded, hands shifting and knees shuffling as he braced – before leaning a hand forward, lowering himself and easing his broad shoulders inside.

The dark loomed in around Ludwig's ears, like a serpent slipping his jaw over his head to swallow him whole. The inside was coated in a layer of mottled filth, charred, slimy and congealed. Signals of its neglect now very apparent, despite it being regularly used as well. The light from his kitchen was sucked backwards, making the darkness even more intimate, suffocating and impenetrabl—

CLOSING THE DOOR. LOCKING. DROWNED VOICES BEHIND THE IRON. A SHOT RINGS OUT IN THE COURTYARD. THE CLAUSTROPHIC SPACE BURST INTO FLAMES—

Ludwig let out a shriek and his body spasmed violently, banging his head sharply off the Oven roof and collapsing into the floor of it with a nasty series of crunches. The space seemed to only sweep down on him and feed off his distress, ferociously hungry and warming to his flesh. His head throbbed, his heart was racing; he gave a whimper as he struggled to breathe with a strained whine at every pant, sucking in ash, choking, coughing—

SMOKE BILLOWED OUT THE TOP—

– burnt food, littering the bottom, pressing into his cheek—

FIRE CRACKLED, ASH BEING SIFTED INTO A BUCKET, REMNANT CHARRED BONES CRACKING AGAINST EACH OTHER—

Ludwig gave a tormented scream and wrenched himself back, banging his head off the Oven mouth and falling bodily against the floor, scrambling wildly with a few panicked cries until he hit the table and the bucket was knocked and he was drenched in soapy water. The splash and clang of hollow metal as it hit the floor jolted him back, chest heaving and feet still kicking slightly in attempts to escape, sliding uselessly in the new-formed puddle.

He stared over his heaving chest, having to swallow a few times as he tried to control his frantic breathing, coming to, glancing around to confirm he was in his kitchen, at home. His heart slammed desperately to escape the cage of his ribs, absently worrying it would burst out of his flesh altogether. His eyes stung dully from the soap, he felt a natural feeling of cold descend on his body from being drenched.

The steady, soft sounds of droplets falling from his body and the table punctuated the quiet, soothing him.

He gave his appliance one last brave gaze, before he collapsed back onto the floor and his breath hitched painfully, turning onto his side and curling inward a little.

He lay in the half puddle under his kitchen table, and cried.

I found this chapter particularily interesting to do, because it was actually quite difficult. Managing the sudden hallucinations and extreme panic, extraordinary fear of a household object - its hard to pull off with the right weight. I'm still not sure I nailed just how strong the emotions are, but EH!