Medium

Someone Appropriate

= ???'s POV=

It was warm and cozy. I haven't felt anything this relaxing for years. I was awake, but my eyelids wouldn't move. I wanted to go to sleep again. I rolled on my side, feeling the soft pillow brush my face.

"Vater?"

Just as I was about to sleep for the second time, I heard a familiar voice. To add to that, it was German—my mother tongue. I couldn't figure out where it was, but it probably came from behind the walls. It was muffled.

"Vater, was sollen wir jetzt tun? (Father, what should we do now?)" The voice seemed to be scared or even panicked. I need to find out who he is. Some obsession began to work within me, so I mustered up my strength to open one of my eyes.

I appear to be lying down on a simple bed. Nothing was restraining me, and I could probably move my arms and legs, although I didn't have the strength.

"Now, son, you've got to stay calm."

This voice was nearer. It was coming closer. I shut my eyes for no reason.

"Hmm, He's not awake yet." This voice didn't include fear, but was suppressing hate. I should have done horrible things to them, haven't I? Why can't I recall them?

"But, it's better if he's asleep. He should have stayed asleep." The voice switched to English as if to match the other speaker. "Ja, but here he is, alive. If he's alive, we can't just do anything to him. He's... kompliziert (complicated)."

Complicated? Well, I suppose I am. But then, why am I in their house? I doubt from their tone of voice that they invited me inside. I can't seem to remember anything.

"Oh, well. I suppose you're right. But seriously, we need to at least notify some people before we tell the UN. He's not going to like it if I say that I found him at my doorstep." Pause. Then, a sigh. "Can you think of any country that won't freak out after seeing him alive?"

So, my being alive in the first place is inconvenient. Plus, I'm probably hated by every country, too. Did I do anything? Whatever I did, it must have been dreadful.

"A country that does not freak out after seeing Nazi ?" The son raised his voice. "Well, I can't name anyone. The countries, especially those in Europe, literally have trauma!"

Huh, so my name is Nazi? How come I didn't remember my name? And why do I feel so uncomfortable with it? I feel something churning in my stomach.

"How about someone from the German family?" The father was clearly annoyed. But the son yelled, "No! You know that's a terrible idea!"

Hearing that, I felt my heart starting to feel cold. On the other hand, my stomach was still warm; I felt sick. Although my body was dull, I managed to move a little to curl up, as if to stop the contents in my stomach from moving, if there ever was something inside.

The two people in the room should have noticed that I moved and stopped their argument. That was a relief. I was developing a headache by then. I didn't know I was this vulnerable to these conditions, but then, I couldn't do anything but breathe heavily to calm myself down. I didn't even bother to quieten my breathing. The two already know that I'm awake. Why should I even bother?

"Österreich, geh und hol eine Tasche," German again, this time from the father. I couldn't hear well, but I think he ordered his son to get a sort of bag. The name he used was familiar, but still, I couldn't remember anything.

I brought my left hand to my mouth and slightly opened my eyes. My fingers were strange, just like last night. What is going on in my body?