Blue as a Fedora

Chapter 15: Milan

It was the light of the front of a train. It was coming closer. As they stood by the side of the tracks, Papa seemed to be struck by a sudden idea.

"Follow me Malvina!" he yelled, still carrying a crying Malia. They both ran down the train tracks until they were side by side with the train. It wasn't going too fast and was rather low; empty compartments whizzed past them every so often.

"We jump on the count of three!" Zamir yelled. Malvina saw as an empty compartment came closer by, "one – two – THREE!"

And they all jumped into the compartment, landing roughly upon the wooden surface. Like a dying animal, Malvina crawled to the corner and collapsed onto the ground, crying as she had never cried in her life. Zamir let Malia go, Malia continuing to cry as if she were being tortured, shivering violently. Zamir simply leaned his head upon the wall of the compartment, having no tears, because his grief was too much.

Malvina closed her eyes and wished for nothing more than to die. Mama was gone. Ella was gone. She knew in that moment, that she'd never know what true happiness was ever again.

*

Trapped in water... a sea of water. The sun was there but... where was the light? Where was anything? And why was the water tearing through her, as if pulling her down into its depths?
Was it an ocean? It was a huge, huge body of water that stretched over an endless horizon, but somehow it didn't look like an ocean. It didn't feel like one either. Still, the water grasped onto Malvina's body almost as if it had hands... it was pulling her down... further still...

Malvina tried to resist, tried to fight, but she grew increasingly weaker with every second of resistance. It was far, far easier to let go, to allow herself to sink... to never see the light of day again... to never feel again...

"Malvina."

The voices were creeping up on her. Was it one voice, or many? Was it whispering to her in the darkness of the still water, or was it shouting over the top of the waves? Were there waves? Was it her imagination?

"Malvina."

Deeper, deeper still... her head was the only part of her body above the surface of the water.

"Malvina!"

Something was taking her out the water, pulling her back up to the surface, but she couldn't see what.

"No... let me..."

She didn't want to leave the water. Sure, it was cold, it was damp and it was sucking her in, but she didn't care. Death was growing impatient...

"Let me go..."

"Malvina."

And then she opened her eyes, and found herself lying upon the rough surface of a train compartment. Weak rays of sunlight trickled in through the open doors, the outside world green and alive. Malvina could see trees and endless grass-fields. It took a long time for her senses to catch up with the present, for her memory to tell her why she was feeling so dead, yet somehow alive.

Papa was sitting directly in her view, his hand on her shoulder. Clearly, he had been trying to wake her up. She had been sleeping.

Malia sat, awake, on the opposite side of the compartment, her eyes closed and leaning her head against the wall. Upon seeing that she was awake, Papa shuffled away from Malvina and looked at both his daughters. Suddenly, everything that had happened seemed to reverberate upon every particle of the air around them, so that it was all they could see, all they could hear...

"Where are we?" Malvina said stiffly, pushing herself up from the grimy ground.

"I'm not sure," answered Zamir. "We've been travelling south. We're somewhere south. We're still in Germany."

Malvina didn't have any response to this, so she simply sat on the floor, hating how the outside world looked so peaceful and happy, when she herself felt that she had never felt true happiness before.

"We need to go."

Malvina looked up at her father; Malia, who had excluded herself from the conversation, opened her eyes rather suddenly and looked at Papa.

"What do you mean?" she said. Her voice sounded croaky and weak, as if it had never been used before.

"I mean, we need to leave this train," said Papa. "There's a small town nearby, we'll have to go there."

"Why?" Malvina said.

"For starters, look at what you're wearing," Zamir said, pointing out the clothes that were hanging off their bodies. Malvina looked down and saw her prison rags, completely dirty and damp from sweat. It smelt revolting.

"We can't – go anywhere looking like this, can we?" Malia murmured from the corner to her father, staring at her prison clothes in disgust. Papa shook his head. He looked at his daughters sadly, helpless and pitiful. Malvina understood why; if she had children, and saw them in a state like this, she'd cry and desperately try to comfort them. Papa wasn't doing either of these things. Why? Well, now that she thought about it, Malvina didn't want him to do either of these things. Him crying would just make her feel more miserable, and comfort... what could he possibly do to comfort them? Hug them? Malvina only wanted to hug one person, but that person was somewhere Malvina could never reach her.

"Follow me, guys," Papa said, getting up and walking towards the exit door of the train on the left.

Neither Malvina nor Malia made to move with him, both staying in their ragged positions, unmoving. For all the attention they gave to their father, or in fact anything, they could've been deaf.

"Maybe it's better if you stay here anyway," Papa decided, stepping out of the train. "I'm getting you both some new clothes. Stay here until I come back, alright? Make sure you're not seen."

Malia continued to look off in the distance blankly, but Malvina shivered, then looked at her father. She was surprised at how easy he was at leaving them there. After losing them, and after only just finding them, he was already letting them stay on their own.

Some may call that a bad thing, a careless thing, but Malvina saw it as a sign of trust, a sign of belief, and Malvina was thankful, even relieved for that.

"Okay," she said.

Papa gave her a small smile and then headed away. Malvina looked towards the direction he was walking and saw in the distance a pretty, small town. All around it was grass fields and flowers, which Papa was walking through right now. It looked so strangely beautiful.

Malia lay herself upon the grimy ground and closed her eyes to try to fall asleep. Malvina wasn't feeling very tired, just numb and dead. And a little tired. Maybe just a little.

Malvina gave a little giggle, but it disappeared instantly. Suddenly she realised how much she hated sitting there, doing absolutely nothing. Her mind, her body, her thoughts, her being were shouting and screeching in despair. And here she was, sitting, doing nothing.

She felt scarred and torn, like she was a broken human that couldn't function properly. She was turning insane. Was this how she was going to live the rest of her life? In fear? In insanity? With horrid dark thoughts like these circling around her mind and through her like sharp knives every day?

She started muttering nonsense to herself and began rocking backwards and forwards, hoping against hope that she could just push all these horrible thoughts aside. So she could just sit peacefully with her sister.

Sister. Mother. Family. Torn apart and gone. Rotting in the most disgusting place in the world, and there was nothing she could do about it except sit here and wait for – what? For the pain to stop? That was never going to happen.

Malvina's breathing was becoming deeper, her chest heaving in and out as if she were dying. She felt like she was having a panic attack. She was beginning to beg her brain to stop, to stop with all these horrible feelings, though the thoughts kept on coming.

She could've done anything to save them. She could've ran into that hole when the chief said so. She could've stopped that guard from shooting Ella –

"No."

Hearing Ella's name in her mind seemed to set off something. Everything from the previous night was forced into sharp reality, except it was ten times worse. She was there. She saw everything happening and all around her the same words, "This is your fault. This is your fault."

She immediately stood up and walked out of the train compartment to the right, Malia not even noticing. She stepped out into the bright sunlight, in front of her nothing but grass fields, trees and freedom. Her freedom. Why was she not happy to see it?

She walked out into the grass fields, making sure she wasn't too far away from the train. She continued walking until she was completely surrounded by grass.

The sun shone brightly and cheerily, blazing the earth below in happiness and light. The world seemed so saturated and full of colour. The grass a juicy green, the sky a baby blue and the tree trunks a chocolate brown. Bright butterflies flew gently and playfully around Malvina, and the peaceful buzzing of bees could be heard from up above. Everything was so colourful... Malvina was a black and white figure in a sea of colour.

And it all came back to her. The numbing was gone. Dead bodies. So many dead bodies. German shouts. German cries. Fences. Dead bodies. Horrible starvation. Digging and digging and nothing but digging and labour work. Bones everywhere. Pain everywhere. Nazi flags. A whip, a strong powerful whip. Her sister comforting her. The shouts and cries of the night as she lay in her bare, dark bunk. And her mother, her beautiful mother, collapsing onto the ground with a disgusting hole in the back of her head. Her little sister, shot directly in the heart, her little body falling helplessly to the ground...

And suddenly she was screaming. Malvina screamed as she had never screamed in her life, it tore through her stomach and through her skin, through her being and existence. Birds flew away, bees stopped buzzing, yet Malvina was still screaming. It wasn't as if she were being tortured, she was being tortured, and the tears were streaking down her face, drowning her eyes, and the world seemed to vanish and darkness was all she could see, and her emotions were reaching the depths of the darkness and everything she felt seemed to only exist here. Here all she could see was the suffering of everything she had ever known. Ella being shot. Mama being shot. Her family's despair. And now, in this moment, those poor prisoners were still being tortured at that absolutely horrible place, and they were being murdered and forced through horrible work and pain, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that Malvina could do about it. Already she pictured her sister's body rotting in that disgusting place. But of course, it would be collected, like the rest of them, and chucked straight into the hole constructed by the slaves and starved, constructed by the bodies that would be chucked in there, unimportant, careless.

And it would just continue, and continue, and nothing. There was nothing. There was everything, but there was nothing. The world was such a terrible place... or maybe it was just her mind. Her mind had become an absolute terrible place. She wanted to die, because she didn't care anymore. There wasn't any happiness in her brain, in her body, why live?

She was sobbing, her face in her hands, her knees upon the grass, the world still spinning, the people still living. She just wanted to see her Mama and Ella one more time. She never got to say goodbye. She never got to tell them how much she loved them. She would never get to say thank you to Ella for letting her live, or thank you to Mama for everything she had done for them. There was a painful empty void in Malvina that would never be filled and it was slowly killing her, a black hole sucking all the hope and happiness out of her body. And it wasn't going to ever stop. It would never be full... it was going to keep on going until Malvina was the empty void. And after that, she'd be better off dead.

Malvina's sobbing gradually ceased, being replaced by grief and unbearable confusion. She just didn't know if she was alive or dead. Was she mentally dead? Then why did she feel so horrible? And her Mama. And her sister. She would never see them again. They would never be a normal family again...

She sat there, not knowing what to do with herself. She had never felt less human before. She had never felt so dead before, even in those moments when she could practically see death, awaiting her in his open arms...

There was the sound of footsteps from behind, though Malvina didn't bother to turn or look up. She didn't care who it was. It could've been one of those foul guards for all she cared. He could kill her, she didn't mind...

"Hey..."

A soft hand placed itself gently upon Malvina's shoulder. Malvina opened her eyes, the brilliant sky and grass sitting peacefully in front of her. She turned to see who's hand it was and, of course, it was Malia, looking almost as horrible as Malvina felt.

Malia looked like she wanted to say something, but she seemed to keep stopping herself, as though she kept re-thinking what she wanted to say. Malvina simply sat there, waiting for the words of comfort that were bound to do nothing.

"I... I..." Malia said. Malvina grasped harder onto her sister's hand, "I... could hear you from the train."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I feel the same."

Malia sat herself down heavily next to Malvina. They both looked towards the horizon: nothing but juicy, happy grass and an endless sky of aqua. The smallest of puffy clouds drifted lazily from above, forever out of reach and dreamy.

Malvina heard as Malia sighed heavily, tears falling down from her eyes. Malvina grabbed hold of her sister and was enveloped in her arms, being hugged as though she were a little girl again.

"I'm so happy you're alive," Malia murmured to her.

Funny. Malvina felt completely different on that subject. Malia seemed to sense what Malvina was thinking.

"We have each other," Malia said. "We have... we have Zamir."

Malvina was beginning to cry again and, although she tried to hide it, her tears were in complete view of Malia.

"But we don't have – we don't have..."

"I know."

And Malvina knew that her older sister wasn't lying in that moment, because her voice was so genuine, her tone of such misery. They hugged each other harder than ever, Malvina re-living all the happy moments she'd ever had with Ella, she'd ever had with Mama. All those times in the backyard and all those times eating dinner together. They were gone but... there were still happy memories to be remembered...

They both silently cried in each other's arms, the sun shining brightly above them, the scene around them so different to how they felt. A grain of darkness in a ray of sunshine. The only dead leaf in a tree of green. There was only one or the other now, and Malvina wished that she could be that happy little girl she was so long ago. Before all this. But that would be impossible. She was never going to change.

They sat there for what felt like quite some time, but it may not have been long, when Malvina was hit by a sudden thought.

"Hey, Malia," she said, looking up into her sister's face. "That – that boy – Zavier... was he your... I mean – did you..."

Malvina didn't really know how to word it, but what she had seen the previous night was much more than friendship. It seemed that the relationship between Malia and that boy ran deeper than she first thought.

"Zavier?" she said, releasing Malvina. "He – well... yeah. We were, I was... well we –"

"You wanted him to come home with us, didn't you?" said Malvina quietly.

Malia slowly closed her eyes, then re-opened them, facing the ground. Every sound of nature around them seemed to intensify and grow, so that the tiniest snap of a twig, the tiniest rustle of a bush, was as loud as the bullets of the guards.

Malia was cradling herself, almost as if to rock backwards and forwards just as Malvina had, though she remained stationary.

"I would've died," she said steadily, still not looking at Malvina. "I would've died if it wasn't for him. He – he gave me food, and water, and company."

Her voice was weak and slow, though she continued what she was saying, Malvina hanging on to every word.

"And – and he only knew English," she said, giving a shaky laugh, "so that's all I could speak to him. And he – well – like I said, he helped me. And – and I wanted to leave this place with him –" the tears were now falling down her face, "– I wanted to give him a home and a family, because his parents died and he couldn't go back home! I wanted to help him after he helped me, and instead of that I –"

"– That wasn't your fault," Malvina said sharply.

"He took it for me, Malvina!" Malia cried, now sobbing as more tears trickled down her cheeks. "That bullet! For me! What am I supposed to do now? I can't do anything!"

Malia broke down into more tears, Malvina watching her older sister curiously.

"I think it's pretty clear, what you're supposed to do," Malvina said calmly to her older sister. Malia slowed her crying and wiped her nose on her filthy prison clothes, finally looking up at Malvina. "Why did Zavier take that bullet for you? To let you live. To let you have a complete, healthy life."

Malia stared at Malvina, with confusion and desperation on her face, her wet eyes staring endlessly into Malvina's.

"He wanted you to be happy. He doesn't want you to – to grieve over him forever or live in agony. He wants you to be happy. That's all you have to do."

"Be happy that he's dead?"

"No. Be happy that you're alive. You're still here. You've escaped. That is more than he could've ever hoped for. I don't care what we feel like right now, we need to realise how lucky we are."

Malia was no longer crying. She was still watching Malvina in amazement.

"Ella taught you a few lessons?"

"Yes, she must've," Malvina smiled, then, next moment, they were both in each other's arms again, crying and grieving and letting out all their feelings. What else could they possibly do? It was all too much for two girls. The world was insane, and they were the only sane ones, reaching out to one another, refusing to lose each other. After everything else they had lost, they weren't going to let go. Ever.

"I want to go home," Malvina kept whimpering to her older sister, trembling and sobbing like she never had before, "I want to go home. I want to go home."

"I know," Malia always whispered back, holding on dearly to her sister, "I know..."

Malvina found comfort and refuge in her older sister's arms. She lost track of time. It may have been hours when Malvina finally looked up from Malia's arms to watch the sun, shining brightly and happily in the everlastingly blue sky.

"We should probably get back," Malia said, stroking Malvina's hair like she always did when Malvina was scared. "Zamir would be furious if he comes and we're not there."

"I suppose," Malvina agreed. They both stood up and, as if following some sort of instruction, they both paced back towards the stationary train, their empty compartment visible from where they stood.

They finally reached the empty compartment and they both jumped into it, their Papa still not in sight. Malia sat in her usual corner of the compartment, whilst Malvina sat in the opposite one. The small, German town visible over the horizon, looking beautiful and innocent, could be seen from where Malvina sat. Papa would be back soon, she expected.

They had to wait through a chilling silence, neither of them exchanging any words to one another, for what could they say? Malvina felt that she had allowed herself to say everything she had to already. Now, she was going to have to battle the mental battle that she was sure to endure. Like she predicted, the numbing was gone, and in its place was nothing but pain and sorrow.

It wasn't ten or twenty minutes after when the two of them finally saw a figure far away, pacing towards where they were. He was tiny from so far away, but there was no mistaking Papa. He grew larger with each step, until finally he passed through the huge grass-field and reached his two daughters, who sat ever so silently in the train compartment like they'd been told. Papa was holding two sets of neat, girls' clothing, one set in each hand. Very neat. Very proper. Very clean.

"You girls get changed, alright?" he said gently, handing the two girls their sets of clothes. "Then we'll get all the food and water you need in town."

"We don't need any food or water," Malvina coughed, her voice croaky and dry, Malia nodding in agreement.

"And after we get the food and water," Papa said with a small smile, "we're going to the train station to take a train."

A sort of relief, a longing, a happiness of sorts seemed to pour itself through Malvina's body at these words. A train. A train back to home. She wanted to return home so badly, for she had never felt so homesick in her life. She felt that there would be some sort of peace at home, something that would help ease her pain. A comfort, which was something she desired so dearly in those moments. The mere thought of home made her feel calmer, made her breathing soften...

"Get changed now," Papa said, looking unexpectedly grim. "I'll turn around."

Papa turned so that his back was facing his two daughters. Malvina and Malia exchanged looks, then both began getting changed. Malvina, taking off her shirt, looked down at her body.
It was grotesque. It was unhuman. It was disgusting. It was the kind of thing Malvina only saw in disturbing documentaries. She was disgustingly thin, her bones sticking out at awkward angles. And then there was her horrid scar! It stretched over her arm and twisted around her shoulder. Her skin was yellowing, as though rotting away, her fingernails contaminated, her hands and fingers crowded with scratches and bleeding. But the worst part was the jet-black, ordered numbers inked upon her virtually dead, bony skin. They lay bare on her wrist, a souvenir from what had happened. Maybe her cuts would heal, maybe her skin would return to its normal colour, but those numbers weren't ever going to leave.

Malvina felt trapped and contaminated in her own body, wishing for nothing more than to leave it. Feeling disgusting, she quickly reached for her neat, clean, pink top and pulled it over her head, concealing all the horror she had just seen. The shirt was far too big for her, but she had a feeling it was the smallest size.

She pulled down her prison pants and put on the little shorts Papa had bought for her. If it wasn't for the scarred skin, the troubled face and the bony limbs, Malvina would've looked like any other young girl, only thinner. She looked down at her prison rags, lying dirty on the floor. She bent down and picked them up, gazing at them in disgust. She turned around, seeing the grass-fields and open sky as if for the first time, then threw the prison clothes outside the train, grunting with each throw, anger powering her strength. Never, ever did she want to see them again.

Malvina looked to Malia, who had finished clothing herself. Malia knocked on the wall on the compartment three times and Papa turned around. He looked at his two daughters with a depression Malvina hadn't seen in his face before. Maybe it was the fact that underneath all those fancy, pretty clothes and bright colours was a darkness and horror that could never be concealed.

"Follow me, girls," he said, beckoning them to leave the compartment. They both stepped out of the empty compartment. "Let's go get something to eat and drink."

The three of them started making their way across the grass field, getting closer to the German town ahead. It looked rather medieval, but even from here Malvina could hear the sounds of cars and traffic and even saw as a train zoomed out of the town, chugging along north, flying past grass and trees.

It didn't feel like any time at all, but they made it past the grass fields and, next thing Malvina knew, she was standing in a small but busy town square, citizens rushing past them, carrying shopping bags or reading newspapers.

It was the first time Malvina had been in any civilised, social area ever since leaving that place. It felt strange and oddly off-putting. Everyone was so happy here. People were smiling, laughing and chatting, without a care in the world. Was it really true, that the horrors that were unfolding throughout Germany were in complete secret, completely unknown? And was she, Malvina, going to have to accept that? Accept the extremely rare position she was in? Where she knew a secret so awful, so terrible, that if she told anyone she'd either be rejected as insane or returned back to that horrible, horrible dark place?

The three of them walked through the town square, Papa clearly knowing where he was going. Some passers-by would give the two girls a second, concerned look, but most of the people walked past without giving a single glance. Some looked in horror on the side of Malvina's face, though it was only after the fifth time this happened that she remembered she had her other scar there...

For the next hour, Papa went from shop to shop buying food and bottles of water for his daughters. Although Malvina said she wasn't hungry or thirsty, she wolfed down all the food she was given and practically breathed in the water she received. She hadn't really realised just how famished she was, and Malia appeared to be quite the same. She ate every crumb left upon her plate, and not a single drop of water could be found in any of the water bottles she drunk through. Papa was very delighted and smiled happily for what seemed like the first time in weeks every time they ate more food. For some very short moments, the world was normal again.

Finally, more genuinely than in a long, long time, Malvina felt full and healthy. Sitting outside a fancy restaurant, Malvina cradled her belly, which, although still very small, felt as heavy as an anchor.

"Are we ready to board the train?" Papa said, once he noticed that both Malia and Malvina had finished their food, "or do you have room for more?"

"I really don't," Malvina said, half-laughing, half-groaning. "Thanks, Papa."

"I'm okay as well," Malia added. "Thank you."

Papa nodded, then stood up, his two young daughters following suit.

"Let's go to the train station," he said.

So, they once again crossed the city-square, weaving in and out of everyday people. Malvina, although feeling deader inside than ever before, couldn't help but smile ever so slightly. They were finally going to board the train. They were finally going to go home. Malvina would finally be inside her own room again, maybe play in the backyard again.

While walking with Papa, it suddenly occurred to Malvina that her father hadn't actually told them where they were going. He hadn't mentioned Albas at all.

"Papa," Malvina said, reaching out for her father's hand before she got separated by the people walking by, "are we going back to Albas?"

"No," Papa responded, not looking at his daughter. Malvina quickly looked towards her sister, who wore an expression of shock just as strong as Malvina's.

"But –" Malvina stammered, suddenly letting go of Papa's hand, "but I want to go home! Papa, please, I can't bear another second waiting!"

"I'm sorry Malvina," Papa said sadly, turning around to look at his thin, weak, scarred daughter, her eyes begging her father to not say what he was about to say, as if he had a choice, "it's not safe."

Malvina felt as though she was watching those she loved die all over again. Her emotions felt similar enough to that. Her home was almost like a parent to her, and now she was being told it was too dangerous to go back.

"But – but where are we going?" Malvina said, as they turned a corner. Before Papa could respond, they had suddenly reached the train station; people were hustling about everywhere and many trains were pouring in and out of the station. Their smoke filled up the air, the sound of the trains pressing on the eardrums. Papa gestured for his daughters to follow him as they crossed by the entrance to the ticket stand.

"Three tickets for Milan," Papa said to the man at the ticket stand. He gave the man the money and the man gave him the tickets. He then led the two of them into the train station.

"Milan?" Malia said, sounding very confused. "Why are we staying in Milan?"

"It's not too far away," Papa said, sitting down at a bench, the girls following suit, "but it's far enough."

"But when are we going back home?" Malvina asked. Her insides felt dark and cold again, and she felt unfeeling and distant all so suddenly.

"When the war is over," Papa answered, searching around the train station for their train.

"When will that be?" said Malvina.

"I'm not sure."

"Could you guess, Papa?"

"I'd give it a couple of years, Malvina. I'm sorry."

No, this wasn't how this was supposed to happen. They were supposed to go straight back to Albas, where Malvina could take the time to heal and live with what she had suffered through. She wasn't meant to go to some foreign town for the next few years! She'd die of desperation before then!

"Milan's in Italy, Zamir," Malia said.

"What?" Papa said in surprise.

"I said Milan's in Italy."

There was a very uncomfortable pause where the two of them gazed at each other, Malvina watching them anxiously. Papa took a slow breath and tried to appear like Malia hadn't said anything strange.

"I know that," he told her.

"We don't speak Italian, Zamir."

Papa gently closed his eyes and opened them again, pain etched in his face. Though, again, he tried to answer the question normally.

"We're going to have to learn it, Malia," said Papa. "I'm sorry, but we can't go anywhere else, okay? France is out of the question, and anywhere else in Europe is too close to Germany."

"Papa," Malvina whispered, laying her head upon her father's shoulder, "I just... I want to go home."

Papa sighed and gently grabbed hold of Malvina's hand, stroking her hair carefully with the other.

"Me too, my darling," he whispered back, "me too..."

The three of them sat there for another twenty minutes. Trains chugged by and the air became denser and denser with smoke. The hustle and bustle of travellers and business was about in every corner of the station, as whistles whistled, and friends and family greeted each other with cries of delight. They were in the midst of it all, unfeeling, silent and weak. Malvina couldn't believe – she refused to believe – that they wouldn't be returning back home. What's worse, they wouldn't be returning back home for years. If only the war could end right now! If only all this pain and suffering could disappear! If only none of this ever happened and Malvina was still that innocent, happy girl she used to be! Oh, how much she wanted that, it almost gave her a headache.

Finally, a train arrived, and Papa sat up instantly, checking his train ticket as he did so.

"That's ours," he told Malvina and Malia. "Come on, let's go."

The two girls stood up and followed Papa to the train, Malvina feeling like a ghost gliding through the misty air, unreal and dead. They handed in their tickets and boarded the train.

It wasn't completely full, though there were a decent amount of people sitting comfortably in their cushioned seats. There was a neat red carpet skirting the floor and royal red walls. With the colour and the fancy tables and seats, Malvina felt like she was standing in the Queen's palace. It felt very different to the last time Malvina was on a train...

They found an empty table and sat themselves down, Malvina and Malia sitting on one side, their father sitting on the other. Once all the passengers were inside, a whistle blew and the train awoke, its smoke whizzing from its pipes and its engines and wheels chugging into action. Before any of them knew it, they had left the train station behind, going south. Further and further away from wherever they were. Further away from Landsberg. Further away from home.

The train rattled on south, the passengers chatting happily with one another, the sound of beverages being drunk, food being eaten and conversations being held racked the air. Still, Malvina felt contaminated, her lovely clothes hiding what was below. Although some looked at her with mild concern, they usually carried on with whatever it was they were doing, not looking back again.

They sat in complete silence for a long time, each trapped in their own miserable thoughts. In fact, it wasn't until an hour after boarding the train when someone finally said something.

"I suppose you're wondering..." Papa said, shifting himself in his seat and looking suddenly uncomfortable, "what happened to... why she isn't..."

Malvina and Malia exchanged confused looks, neither of them understanding what their father was trying to say. His voice was becoming increasingly shaky and his eyes kept darting from side to side.

"I suppose you're wondering why Elise isn't here," he said eventually.

"What?" Malvina croaked.

"Elise – Mama. I just – after everything that's happened I guess we forgot. Well, do you want to know what happened to Mama?"

Malia and Malvina looked at each other again, both feeling as perplexed as ever. What happened to Mama was disgusting and nauseating... why was Papa bringing this up, like they didn't know?
Or like he didn't know.

Malvina felt an icy chill crawl down her spine, and she could tell from her sister's expression that they were both thinking along the same lines. Malia looked to Papa, suddenly very sad.

"Listen..." Malia said softly, swallowing nervously, "we – Mama is –"

"She was... you weren't there," Papa said, not hearing Malia, "but she was taken..."

"Zamir," Malia said, more loudly and clearly this time. Papa gazed up with a startled look, and then looked even more startled at Malia's dejected expression and the tears falling down Malvina's cheeks. He looked from one to the other, still appearing to be in the dark.

"Mama's – dead," Malia said. Malvina felt it coming, but the words seemed to punch her in the gut, making her feel like throwing up. More tears fell down her face as she watched her father struggle to comprehend the words just given to him.

"Malia... I'm sure you just –" he said.

"She – was killed at the camp," Malia said in a trembling voice, grabbing onto her father's hand firmly. "Didn't you – I thought you saw –"

Papa wasn't listening. He was staring at his daughters as though he had never seen them before. Then he looked down, weak, scared, confused.

Malvina couldn't take it. She got out of her seat and moved over to Papa's side. She sat next to him, Papa leaning heavily on her, as she lay down on him. At his daughter's touch, he slowly began to cry, his tears falling in his lap. Malia, however, didn't move from where she was sitting. She simply continued to stare at Papa, a sour expression playing on her face. Malvina ignored her, feeling too horrible for Papa to worry about anything else.

Malvina began sobbing quietly next to Papa. Suddenly, everything was so much more real. Hearing the words, with no doubt, with no subtlety, made everything that had happened fall into sharp reality. It had happened. It had really happened, and she saw it all.

Malvina wanted to stay there forever. The scenery outside was beautiful, and Malvina suddenly saw huge, towering mountains in the distance, with grass-fields containing flowers of ever colour of the rainbow skimming past the train window. Rivers snaked through the valleys and ground, and lakes housing clear blue water flew by past the two girls. It was announced an hour or two later that they were now chugging through Switzerland. The bright colours and light atmosphere startled Malvina, who had been so used to darkness and clouds...

They sat in silence for a long, long time. Papa was no longer crying, but remained motionless in his seat, his eyes on the table in front of him. It was quite some time when Papa finally said something.

"Girls, I'm sorry," he said. "I've been – I've been weak and cowardly and I've been the worst father in history. Malvina," he said, now looking at Malvina, "I promised you you'd never get hurt, and I broke that promise. And Malia, I'm sorry for leaving you when you needed me most. I'm sorry for all the lies and all the horrors that have entered your life because of me, and I'm sorry for being such a terrible father."

There was a stunned silence after this. Malvina was the first to recover.

"Papa," she said, looking from her sister up to Papa's face, "you haven't been a terrible father."

"I have," he countered. "I haven't been there for you. You had to – to deal with all – that by yourself. It's awful and putrid, and –"

"Papa! We've changed!" Malvina cried, earning her looks from those sitting nearby, but she ignored them. "We've changed! We're not little girls anymore Papa. As long as we have each other, I'll be sane. I – I mean we, don't need someone to tell us everything will be okay. You don't need to watch over us like that anymore, Papa."

Papa looked from Malvina to Malia, his face full of shook.

"You've grown up so fast..." he murmured.

"Of course we have," Malia said. She, however, wasn't looking sorrowful or sad; she was still wearing that sour look, as though she wasn't completely ready to accept Papa's apology. Her arms were folded and her eyebrows were narrowed. Malvina could see something playing in her sister's eyes... a kind of fury was being set alight. "We had to, didn't we? We had to..."

For the rest of the journey, they didn't talk. They were given food and water and accepted it silently, drinking their beverages and having their meals in silence. Eventually, Malvina returned back to Malia's side of the table, wanting to be with her sister.

Soon, dusk spread across the land, powerful colours blazed across the sky and the world outside was more beautiful than ever. The sun finally set as the world fell into a peaceful darkness, completely different from the one Malvina had been through for the past days. Not having properly slept in so long, Malvina felt her eyes droop and close, and fell upon Malia's bony shoulder, uncomfortable, but more than enough...

A siren, a horn, and Malvina awoke. She felt startled to find herself in a bright, comfortable train, full of talking, happy, well-fed people. She kept re-visiting disgusting, dark places in her dreams, always so real, so defined, that awaking in a train was like awaking in another world. Malvina looked at the clock to find that it was nine in the morning.

She realised that the 'siren' she had heard was actually a voice on the loudspeaker saying something in German. Papa listened intently, then smiled at his daughters.

"Did you understand that?" Malvina said sleepily, lazily rubbing her eyes. She looked at Malia, who appeared to have been awake for quite some time.

"I understood enough to know that we just left Switzerland," he said. "We're almost at Milan."

So that meant they were in Italy. Malvina had always wanted to visit Italy, but never knew where exactly in Italy she wanted to visit. To say she wanted to visit Italy wasn't saying much; she'd wanted to visit every country in the world. That was before. Now, she wanted nothing more than to go home and stay there forever.

The scenery outside hadn't changed much, though now farms whizzed by the window every so often, along with other Italian-styled buildings and structures. Once in a while, they'd pass by a very pretty but small Italian town, right on the outskirts of the country.

It was half an hour later when the train finally began to slow down, and Malvina, peering nervously out the window, could see why.

A colourful, happy city with many people walking in and out of medieval, towering buildings was in sight. Trees surrounded the area with a bright blue sky overhead, the sound of Italian voices radiating upon the air. There were churches in almost every direction, some small while others extremely large. The train rattled through the city, then finally screeched to a stop in the Milan train station.

The doors opened and at least half of all the passengers left their seats, including Papa, Malia and Malvina. They all stepped outside into the blazing, beautiful sunlight, to see a huge city square. Malvina looked around.

It was magnificent; the ground was full of fancy, fascinating patterns and the amazing architecture all around the square seemed to hold Malvina to the spot, refusing to have her stop looking. The fashion, the people and the food seemed to come to life right where she stood, and no matter which direction she looked in there always was something amazing to see.

Malvina and Malia looked at each other and, although she really, really wanted to go home, Malvina couldn't help but smile at her older sister as they both gazed in amazement at the city in front of them.

"See?" Papa said, putting his arm around Malvina. "It's not so awful, is it?"

Malvina craned her neck to look up at her father, and they both started laughing.

Maybe, just maybe, the next few years wouldn't be as horrible as she imagined.