Of The Dark

Chapter 14

I woke up to find myself lying in an infirmary bed, covered in more bruises than I fell asleep with.

My battered body sunk into the worn mattress, accommodating my feather weight with distressed creaks and squeaks as I shifted to adjust my comfortability.

Only, comfortability was long gone.

I was drooping into an avalanche of malaise, after riding head-first into a sandstorm of soreness like a circus master being torn apart, limb by limb, by his aggravated lion.

My arms felt as though they had been aggressively torn off by a bullfighter only to be loosely stitched back to my shoulders by the bumbling hands of a blind grandmother. My legs felt like they had been mistaken for asphalt and had been ran over by an army tank, again and again. My swollen eyes blocked some of my vision and stung every time I blinked, worse than the last time I was here.

I started to remember why father said he used to drink.

"It helps to ease the pain, Hana. It helps to ease the pain." He would say, sullenly downing another bottle.

Maybe it could do the same for me.

Ignoring the growing cramps in my neck, I gradually turned my head to the side and glared at the silver hip flask being anxiously swirled around in Oskar's hand.

Crouched in the wooden chair, his dark hair was dishevelled and his bloodshot eyes were circled with dark bags as he was in deep thought. His hands hurriedly brought the flask to his lips as if some monstrous thought had just entered his mind that he was eager to flush out.

Then, through the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of me.

"You're awake!" He noticed, leaning forward with a grand look of relief. "You were out for almost three days."

I remained transfixed at the bottle in his hold.

"Oh," he whispered, noticing my fascination. He dark eyes flickered to mine and all in an instant, I realised how intoxicated he was. "Do you want some?"

Gently nodding, I let my lips part slightly as he brought the flask over to me, pressing the mouth against my lips and tilting it upwards to let the sharp liquid flow down my throat.

I relished in the fire it lit across my body, concocting warmth in all my insides and extremities, where all I had been feeling was the cold of the camps for the last few months.

He retracted sluggishly, taking a good look at every bruise and every cut he had implanted onto my body before taking his seat again. I remained indifferent under his long stare, numb to the calamity he could inflict.

"What did he mean when he said he would have your mother arrested?" I choked out, remembering his reaction to his father's threats.

The question caused him to cower for a moment as he fiddled with the cap of the flask in his hands. Soon after, in a drunken slur, he answered.

"My mother had an affair with a Russian spy in the last two years of their marriage. Elsa is the product."

Something in me clicked.

Rage started fuming in me as glared at the heartless hypocrite in front of me.

"You accused me of not being German enough, when your sister is half-Russian, your mother had an affair with one and you and your entire family are protecting them!" I was seething with rage, my bruised hands clenching tight by my waist as I narrowed my eyes at him, furious. "How dare you?"

He didn't have an answer.

He just started at the floor, impassively.

"You know what? You're just a coward." He looked at me again, confused. "You use girls because you are so self-superior. You are a drunkard who only drinks because you can't even be bothered to face reality and you are a soldier who is not even faithful to his own country! You don't even have the capacity to change. You are nothing but pathetic!"