CHAPTER FOUR
Raus in Die Nacht / Love is a Doing Word

The next day there were news reports on the TV of what happened.

That a western supervillain was up to no good at the Wall, and they were barely stopped in time by the heroic soldiers of the GDR. As this news played on the television as he got ready for school, Frogg stopped listening only after a moment. He honestly did not know what the truth was anymore but did not dare say a word. One simply does not question the Soviet Union's depiction of events. He tried hard to push the mental image from his mind - one of a superhero being shot down from the sky, by how limp they had become as they plummeted down - but it would never go away, just one of many traumas seared into the psyche.

Weeks passed, and then months.

The season transitioned, and Frogg was thankful for it. He always liked colder weather the best, especially with how he liked to dress in long-sleeved shirts and sweaters. When it snowed for the first time of the year, he went outside and let the flecks of ice swirling down kiss at his face, perfectly content in the cold. Sometimes when he would wait for his train in the morning and the S-bahn would fly by and create a freezing breeze, if he closed his eyes, he could imagine that he was back at the Baltic Sea, just like when he was little.

This was how he would mentally escape to someplace else.

He no longer did so as he would listen to his radio or tinker with his inventions at nighttime. He was far too afraid to touch the box under his bed that contained his radio, or to go to the Ghost Station to scrounge for parts. The event that took place outside of his bedroom window had refreshed his fear of the Wall and the watchful eyes of the Stasi, and three years of growing too comfortable doing these forbidden things was ruined.

It only fueled his renewed paranoia when a protest took place within the city.

Frogg was on his way to his lessons, not aware it was happening, until he walked right into it. There could have been close to a thousand Berliners marching towards the Palace of the Republic, on the very same street he would be required to stand in to watch the parades displayed by the GDR. Frogg was initially awestruck by it all - the sheer amount of injustice in the people's shouts towards the government's treatment towards their people, wanting to be let out, voicing escalating fear of the threat of nuclear war.

He had tried to find a way around it, because the massive crowd seemed like the last place he needed to be, but it did not take long until he was sucked into it. He was just a small body amongst all of the people, being pushed this way and that as he tried to make his way through, and then the military police showed up. They began spraying high-pressure water into the crowd that knocked people off their feet, but it wasn't until three shots were fired in the air that the panic really took place. When Frogg finally emerged from the other side, he was out of breath and battered, having been unknowingly trampled on by the people who ran in their fear.

Just like his father had advised him that one night, he focused solely on academics. Because one day, if he became important enough as a scientist, it might be what got him and his papa out of this city, the place where people had to protest their captivity. So he swore to work as hard as he could in his lessons with Professor Reinhart, and withdrew into himself more and more, mentally escaping to a world where there weren't walls trapping him inside.

There was one time he did risk going into the secret box beneath his bed.

He had mentioned his project of creating a prosthetic for his cat to Professor Reinhart one day, and his tutor was very interested in what he had made. Frogg had convinced himself that it might have come from things that could get him in trouble, but there should not be anything wrong with having the prosthetic itself. It would only look like a children's toy to someone who did not know any better. So he packed it into his bag one morning before setting off. The cybernetic was close to completion and only needed what he thought was another hour or two's work before he would let his cat try it out for the first time.

Frogg was excited. He never had anyone to talk to about these sorts of things and was looking forward to hearing the Professor's opinion on it. He was looking so forward to it, he tried not to let the neighborhood bullies get to him and ruin his day when they saw him walking and began to pick on him. He was met with the usual taunts of 'Froschgesicht' and they were making fun of his latest pair of glasses because they were an older style. When he refused to engage them, one threw a snowball (most likely with a rock right in the middle of it) at his head but missed, and Frogg could not help but grin in satisfaction at that.

He arrived at the lab to the familiar sight of Professor Reinhart scrawling some calculus equations on the board. He perked because he especially liked solving math problems, but was still more excited to show off his invention and could hardly wait. It wasn't until their break at midday that Frogg had the chance.

"I brought that cybernetic I was telling you about," he said, trying to dull the excitement in his voice in an attempt to look cool, and reached into his bag.

"Oh, good! I've been looking forward to it." The adult took the little device and began looking it over with great interest. "Wow. This is incredible. And the 'toes' actually move?"

He inspected the area that would fit over his cat's stump, and upon rubbing a finger over the mesh-like surface of the inside, one of the toes twitched.

"Yeah, it does that when you touch it sometimes. I made it to pick up nerve impulses through the skin! So it'll react to how Kaspar would try to move her paw if she had one."

Professor Reinhart knew more than anyone else just how smart his student was, but his jaw still dropped. He kept up with all of the latest magazines and journals and knew that this kind of idea in bio-mechanical engineering was a complicated one. And this was made at home with scavenged parts rather than a proper workshop? It was truly impressive. He realized that he was holding something that could be groundbreaking, as well as expensive for this reason, and naive little Frogg did not even seem to know it. He just wanted to make his cat's life more comfortable.

"But.. how? How were you able to understand the nervous system well enough…?"
His voice trailed off. He was certain that they hadn't covered the subject in their lessons that extensively, nowhere near enough for him to create a cybernetic with what they touched on. This should have been the work of someone three times Frogg's age, nevertheless in an extremely specific field. Not someone who was getting a general education, whether it was expedited or not, and Hans was reminded just once more that the shy and soft spoken Archibald Frogg he had grown used to truly was a prodigy.

In response to the question, Frogg sort of blushed, as if he was going to say something that might have been personal.

"My mama used to be a doctor, and my papa kept some of her old books. I looked at her copy of Gray's Anatomy for help. It would have been better to have a veterinary reference, but it was better than nothing..."

Professor Reinhart was stunned into silence. Then he smiled and offered the cybernetic back. "Well, she would have been very proud of you, Archibald."

For a moment he thought his student was going to cry, he looked so thrilled to hear it, dropping his reddening face to the floor in that shy way of his.

"Th-thanks professor."

"Well, what do you have to do to finish it? I think I know how we're going to spend the rest of the day, and your cat will be very happy to have you come home with it."

Frogg beamed and immediately began to rattle off minor adjustments and details to finishing his project, more than excited for the help. Professor Reinhart laughed at his level of enthusiasm, and offered to help paint the cybernetic to match his cat's fur. Frogg loved the idea of that.

Professor Reinhart decided not to tell his student exactly how valuable his little project was, or to even share this information with any of his colleagues or peers in West Berlin. He knew his student had been so much more withdrawn and quiet lately, and Hans had suspected for some time now that his home life might not have been the greatest, and just wanted him to have his happy moment.

Frogg bounded up the stairs to his apartment, excited to have Kaspar try on her now completed prosthetic. The professor had even taken him to a part of the University Frogg had never been in, one used by the design students that had a metal working station, and it was there they sprayed his invention with paint and a protectant so it shone all gray, just like Kaspar's fur. It turned out to be a very fun day for him, and it was nice to have someone nerd-out with him for a change.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts about it all, he did not open the door as carefully as he normally would have, and faltered at the sight of his apartment in darkness. Not one light was on, and he wondered if his papa had to stay at his work later than usual. But that was a rare occurrence... It was then he became aware of the figure sitting in the next room.

"Papa?"

Frogg uncertainly stood within the doorway to the living room.
His father had been sitting on the couch and was bent over the table, hands holding his head. At being addressed, he suddenly jerked and wiped where his eyes were wet with tears, turning his face away. But it was painfully obvious that he had been crying.

Frogg's eyes fell to the photo that he had been looking at - the one of his mother wearing her white dress on his parent's wedding day - before it was quickly swiped and put in his father's pocket as if it were some sort of secret.

"Arshibald, you're, ah," the way he slurred his name made it apparent how much he had been drinking. He must not have gone into work that day, calling out to get drunk instead. "You're home early."

Frogg looked beyond the window to where it was twilight - not even fully dark yet. He was not going to correct him.

"Yeah..."

It was dead quiet then, and Frogg just stood there not knowing what to do. From past experience, he knew that speaking up to acknowledge how his papa cried was usually met with silent indifference or anger, and the boy learned to no longer try. But he still wanted to do something. His father still had his head turned to the side, as if the sight of his own son was completely unbearable, and it was the same thing every time Frogg found his father like this, crying and alone. It hurt.

It was on the tip of his tongue, what he wanted to ask so badly for close to three years now every time his papa got like this: Why can't you look at me?

But instead, his stomach was growling and it had been ten hours since he had breakfast, and he had figured out a long time ago that eating could sometimes sober his father up.

"Is there anything to eat?"

His dad cleared his throat in the way he did every time he was caught in such a vulnerable state. Trying to get his voice right.

"No. No, but I'll-"
"It's okay," Frogg quietly said. If his father cooked when he was like this, he might end up burning himself or the apartment down. "I'll be right back."

Frogg bent down onto his knee when he went into his room. Kaspar, always excited to see her human, left her cat bed with a happy trill and hobbled to him with her unique gait. "Pst,pst, come here Kaspar."

She was doing the usual routine of rubbing her big head and body all along his legs, purring deeply. When he retrieved the completed prosthetic from his bag, it was quite the process trying to place it on her as she paced back and forth.
"Kassie, calm down, it's something you'll like-"

As soon as he managed to buckle the strap in place, it was as if the cat could immediately sense something was different. Frogg watched his invention with proud fascination. She stumbled a bit when she stepped on the fake leg, and the digits of the mechanical paw adjusted to distribute her weight best. There were a few more experimental steps, her pupils becoming wide and tail pointed straight up in the air.

Frogg began laughing when Kaspar seemed to celebrate - the cat took off, sprinting around the room. She was yowling and jumping from his bed to bookshelves and back again. Kaspar was still in full-on zooming mode when Frogg went to scoop her up and pet her with a big grin on his face, saying, "I'm glad you like it!"

But she just wiggled out of his arms and continued her erratic laps. He did not mind one bit, and he left to throw some food together. He stepped from his bedroom, into the hall, turned the corner-
His father was waiting for him as he turned the corner, looming above him. His arm was raised, ready to come down on him like it had so many times before.

Frogg jerked with a yelp of alarm, reacting by throwing himself back and meekly covering his head with his arms- his body's automatic reflex to protect itself. He waited for the hand to come down, for something to begin hurting, and after a few moments he popped an eye open.

His father still stood above him, and it was then he realized that his arm was not raised to strike him. Viktor Frogg had only been reaching to flip the lights on. And yet, he would not look to where his son was now huddled on the ground, his still red-rimmed eyes pointed to the wall above Frogg's head instead.
"...so that's what you think of me?"

Frogg found himself frozen to the floor. Something about his slurred yet relaxed voice was unsettling, like the calm before a storm. His father still looked anywhere but at his son, as if determined to not visually acknowledge the boy, and Frogg could sense some sort of tension rising.
"I- I was just scared. You scared me is all, I'm sorry-"
"Well. You must think I'm HORRIBLE!"

And then he abruptly turned and sent the beer that was in his other hand hurtling down the hall. It did not shatter but knocked a hole in the drywall, and the liquid splashed against Frogg's face from the impact. His father was moving then, quickly albeit unsteady, and he went to the living room. Frogg never should have opened his mouth. He never should have come back out of his room, and just like always, he could only watch helplessly as the rampage began.

"So HORRIBLE for keeping you fed-"

The coffee table was flipped and all the contents on top were sent to the floor with a crash.

"I'm such an awful parent for going to my miserable job all day to buy you clothes-"

Then he snatched one of Frogg's textbooks that had been sitting on the kitchen counter and hurled that as well. It was thick and banged loudly against the wall, loud enough that the neighbors could probably hear the impact and the nasty sneer in his papa's raised voice - "To buy you books! For your special education that brought us here to begin with!"

Frogg pulled himself from the floor and reached out desperately, making himslef as small and nonthreatening as possible. His father had yelled at him dozens of times before, but he was making a lot of noise tonight. They were going to get the police department called on them. It happened once before in a very similar situation and they were barely able to talk their way out of it, offering some outlandish reason for all the noise.

"Please stop! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Just stop yelling-"
"SHUT UP!"

He had marched over, and as the words left his mouth Frogg was back-handed across the temple. It was with enough force to send him back to the ground and make his ear ring, to see stars. Face screwed up from the pain of it, he was curled on the floor and was prepared for another blow, but it did not come. His father was out of breath from his pacing and cast his gaze off to the side again, clenched fists shaking.

Frogg was lying hurt on the ground, and his father wouldn't even look at him after what he had done.

"...Why won't you look at me?"

The question he had wanted to ask for so long came out as a croak. There were tears forming in his eyes, and he just wanted so badly for his father to acknowledge him. Even if it was to yell at him again, it was better than being treated as if he did not even exist when he was in pain. He tried again.

"How come when you cry and look at mama's picture, you can never look at me?"

Still, even when speaking to him, Viktor Frogg's eyes would not meet his own.

"Don't be stupid, Archibald."

"What did I do wrong?"

"It's time for you to grow up. Quit your crying and get off the floor."

Frogg's voice was rising to a despaired wail - "But you're doing it now! Why won't you look at me-"

"I said I'm sick of it!"

Frogg curled up into a ball again when Viktor took steps towards him again, and he was sure he saw his father's leg go back as if to kick him. It might not have even hurt that bad, it might have been just to get him off of the floor. But then a gray shape flitted by, catching his father off balance. It was Kaspar trying out her new leg, and he did not even stumble that much when she darted under his feet-
"And I'm sick of your damn cat always in the way!"

His father snatched the cat by the scruff of her neck, causing her to yowl, and flung the animal as hard as he could.

Frogg cried out and heard the distinct snap when she hit the corner of the bookshelf.

"PAPA NO!"

For the first time in the three years since his father became abusive to him, Frogg fought back. He drew himself to his knees and shoved, putting all his meager weight into it, and he was not strong at all but the adult was drunk enough to be toppled over. In the back of his mind, thoughts flitted-what have you done, you should not have done that, you're in trouble now- but all he could immediately care about was his poor cat.

"Kaspar, oh no oh no," Frogg crawled to where his pet had dropped to the floor and was disturbingly still, the boy babbling the entire time, "It's okay girl, I'm sorry-"

He was halfway there when rough hands abruptly lifted him from the ground, and then slammed him back down again onto his back. The wind was nearly knocked out of him, and something went around his neck. Frogg was resisting, uselessly slapping and trying to kick but weight was put on his bottom half, and then he finally opened his eyes. What he saw shocked him into stillness.

His father was looking at Frogg for the first time that night. There were tears streaming from his papa's eyes, dripping down onto his face below as he put all of his weight down on Frogg's neck.

"I wish it was you instead of her!"

Frogg's kicking and fighting suddenly stopped, the anguished words penetrating him to the very core. At first, he only sobbed once, as if he were in disbelief of what he just heard. No. No, his papa could not truly mean that. The hands around his throat tightened, Frogg's escalating cries coming out as splutters and chokes, and his papa was weeping over him now like a man who had just lost his wife.

"That's why! It shouldn't have been her!"

His little hands had automatically gone to wrap around his father's forearms as they pinned him down, but they only rested there… just like he always had, Frogg could not find it within him to fight back anymore. The sound of the pulse in Frogg's ears grew and grew to where it was the almost hypnotic sound of hearing his own blood rushing, so loud that he could not hear his own throat clicking and struggling and he could not inhale any longer-
This was how he was going to die.
He only wanted his papa to love him again.
It was when the edges of his world began to grow black and spread to his center of vision that his grasp on his papa failed, his arms weakly dropping away as he began to lose consciousness. Between his fading breaths and the darkness closing in, he saw water and smelled the salt of it. It was the sea and his small hand was being held by his father, and in that memory he was happy again, and he choked out in a faint whisper to that person one last time, tears spilling down the sides of his face, "Pa..pa..."

Suddenly it stopped.

The weight was taken from his neck, and a painful, raking gasp filled Frogg's lungs with sweet air. It was not at all like the action movies he had seen before where the victim remains close to unconsciousness- the black cloud that had been seeping into his vision receded, and the deafening sound of blood rushing in his ears and behind his eyes slowly faded to the uncanny silence of the apartment and his own hammering heart.

His hands went to his throat as his thin body shook from weak sputters and desperate pulls of air that burned. He cried harder than he ever had before.

I wish it was you instead..?

He did not know how long he had been laying there, just sobbing. Was it minutes, hours? Frogg was shaking when he rolled and tried to pull himself to his knees. Even that movement made the room spin, and his cries became more ragged, more painful.

What just happened? Did that really just happen to him?

His father still wasn't looking at him. The man was sitting on the floor, his back to a wall and face white as he stared vacantly ahead, hands trembling. As if he realized what he had just done and was in shock. But he still could not look at his son. This person was a stranger, it wasn't the papa that Frogg had grown up with close to the Baltic Sea. He did not know who this was. He had to get away.

Frogg weakly crawled to where his pet laid on the ground.

"Ka-Kaspar, it- it's okay," the words were hoarse and it hurt so immensely to speak, but he knew that his cat was not okay at all.

From where she had hit the bookshelf after being thrown, her neck was bent at a nauseating angle and her jade eyes stared blankly ahead. Whimpering and choking on his own sobs, Frogg picked his cat up as gently as he could. Just like when he adopted her three years ago and she was so tiny, he held her close to his chest. She had grown so much since then, but now she was even heavier as dead weight. He stood with her, the room lurching from the movement as if he might black out, so he had to lean against the wall to wait for his world to stop spinning.

When he went for the front door, he heard a word behind him.

"Archibald."

But he just walked faster, struggling to breathe in his haste to leave. It was then he realized every time he tried to suck a breath in, a horrible sound accompanied it, like a whistle from somewhere deep in his throat.

"Archibald, wait-"

But he was gone, out into the night.