Where hands touch- aftermath

One

Sleep never came easily to Leyna Schlegel- she'd find herself awake all hours of the night, trying to erase the ever-replaying of the mindless murder of her lost lover.

It had been a year since the funeral. The days were long; difficult to deal with when everyone in Germany felt sympathy for her- she'd gotten the worst runt of the deal.

The only thing keeping her sane was the piece that Lutz left behind- Marisol. A little girl with the same vibrant eyes as her father, she was her mother over again.

Her step-father, an American soldier her mother had met, had come to live with them. It was an abnormality to see a man sitting at the dinner table with Koen and their mother. He and Kerstin had gotten married, resorting to normal life. But, for Leyna, she couldn't move on.

Tonight happened to be another sleepless night; it was summertime, so they'd kept the windows up to let the breeze waft in, but it only sparked memories. The constant whooshing of the breeze played tricks on her mind, whereupon she'd talked with Lutz last night. But he was dead; it was the mind's sick tricks. He would forever be the seventeen-year-old German Guard, overseeing the prisoners and making sure Leyna was safe.

Koen walked silently into her room, the floor creaking ever so slightly with each footfall. His eyes scanned the little room- gone were the toys and books of childhood, replaced by a white cradle in which Marisol slept; beside that was a small matching trunk filled with little dresses, sleepsuits, stockings, and other accessories.

Everyone was grateful that Marisol was such a good baby- she rarely cried. Once cried when she was born and when she was hungry. She was a happy little thing; everyone on the block adored her.

"You haven't slept," he whispered to Leyna, who in turn smiled slightly at the boy; he was now thirteen-years-old and brilliant.

"I can't," she replied, looking out at the night sky riddled with stars. She only wished Lutz was here. They'd spend the summer nights counting the stars. He'd be able to see Marisol grow up. Leyna would be happy.

Koen sighed, rubbing his hands through her curls before lying next to her on the bed, arms wrapped around her chest. He put his head in the crook of her neck like when he was a child.

"Bad dream?" she asked.

He nodded. "I had a dream that Marisol was killed by Weissmuller," he said, tracing circles on Leyna's arm.

She breathed in, sitting up to make sure Marisol was still asleep. There were times in which she often found herself staring at her daughter while she slept; a woman in the complex had lost her baby in sleep so it worried her. She often put a hand over the child's lips, sighing in relief when the warm air hit her hand.

"Weissmuller can't hurt her," Leyna finalized. He had been hung a few days after murdering his son.

"I never want anything to hurt her," Koen said; he proved to be rather protective of his niece.

Leyna nodded, looking at her brother. Even though they didn't share similarities, their blood was the same color. Leyna often told herself that when she worked at the factory with Mother and girls would tease her about her being a Rhineland child; she couldn't change the color of her skin like Koen couldn't change his father's absence.

"You think he ever knew I existed?" Koen asked, as if he were voicing her thoughts.

Leyna shook her head; her own father hadn't even known about her existence. Rhineland children often had absent fathers, fathers that didn't exist, fathers that only remained due to DNA and differing looks to the mothers.

"No, Koen. But Mother says he was a German soldier. Says he was killed at war," she replied.

Her brother nodded his head sleepily: it was almost two in the morning and he couldn't fight the sleep that was now consuming him.

So, Leyna fell asleep listening to the soft snores of her little brother. And for once, she didn't have plagued dreams about Lutz.