Lost in Blue

𝖁𝖎𝖊𝖗𝖟𝖊𝖍𝖓 : Todestag

"Are you really sure you want to accompany me there?" he asked.

He wasn't sure how he should convince Arzt to let her leave with him. It wasn't a place you'd frequent everyday. Lying coldly was easier than explaining. Even if he did attempt the latter, there was absolutely no chance she would be allowed to accompany him if he told the truth. At this point, he would have to tell the physician taking her outside was just like back in June – a means to an end.

Determined, Fräulein nodded. "I want to come with you."

Henning realized he shouldn't have told her where he was headed to – it had carelessly slipped his tongue - but he couldn't refuse those big, azure puppy eyes of hers, pleading him to take her out to the outside world, even if it meant visiting a place of tragedy.

Maybe she weaponized her innocent demeanor and deliberately exploited his soft side to get what she wanted.

If she did – he couldn't quite tell – then it worked.

During the entire ride, they didn't speak.

𝕹 𝕴 𝖃𝕰 𝕿 𝕺 𝕽 𝕰 𝕿𝕰𝖄

"I'm asking you again. Are you really sure you want to come with me?"

Henning turned to look at Fräulein, who gulped. Her eyes trailed the graveyard's ash gray iron gate, spread open with its line of graves beyond. He wasn't sure if it was too soon for her to handle a place that was the embodiment of death.

"I do."

Their eyes met. He held eye-contact. So did she and for a brief moment, it felt like he could get lost in the blue of her orbs.

Clearing his throat, Henning nodded. Right now, he knew he wouldn't be able to battle her stubbornness – she had made the decision to accompany him despite what they were about to face and he would respect her wish.

"Let's go."

On their way, they passed several graves, each one unique in their own way. Either log-built or rock-hewn, most of them were richly adorned with flowers of the brightest colors, counting a variety of red tulips, yellow daffodils and violet pansies. Others were designed to be the opposite, plain, no statues or crosses, their only decoration gravel and lit tealights.

Few birds chirped happily in the surrounding tree tops, hedged by the lavish green nature of oak trees. For a place meant to symbolize death, life made itself known at every turn.

Following the stone-cobbled path, the duo came across just one elderly woman, who silently spilled tears in front of the grave of her lost loved one. Henning recognized himself in her frail apparition, a flashback of the memory of just nine years ago. Heads bowed low, they passed her, mumbling a quiet "Hallo" as a greeting, which got drowned in the ocean of the old woman's grief.

Five minutes and passing several lines of tombstones later, they finally had arrived at their destination – an elegant grave made out of marble. Crimson roses with thorns stood on each corner of the square-shaped slab, its middle resembled the pattern of a flower and out of its gaps of earth, blotches of weed had begun to spill over.

Henning didn't say a word. Inside, he was battling the resurging feelings he normally kept hidden beneath his composed surface.

"Elena Dorn ... Born 1994 15th of April. Died on the 10th of August in 2008 ..." Fräulein read the black letters on the white tombstone.

Realization hit her. Her eyes widened. "Was she your ...?"

"Sister, ja," he kept his eyes focused on the tombstone's engravings, a sequence of letters and numbers carved into the stone to represent what was once his sister.