Life Afterward (Inspired by The Book Thief)

Anger

Ilsa Hermann and her husband gave little Liesel room those first several months...until the meltdown. At the beginning of the week, she'd been going to Alex Steiner's store each day to help him. Ilsa Hermann thought the little girl was doing better, thinking she was trying to live again by contributing to something, even if it was just pinning buttons on a vest. By Thursday, she'd stopped going to the store.

When Ilsa Hermann asked her why she wasn't going and if she'd like to go to the store, little Liesel didn't answer her verbally. She just shook her head in a jerky motion and walked off as silent as a field mouse and just as dirty.

It wasn't until Saturday when all hell broke loose (as my cousin would have said). The mayor and Ilsa Hermann had some relatives over for brunch. These were people from out of town who had braved the broken roads to enjoy a meal with little Liesel's new foster parents. She'd never met them before. This mixed with the laughter of the new people was something little Liesel couldn't stand, even after months of recuperation.

She stormed into the dining room where the four adults were sitting at the wooden table sipping at tea from little teacups and eating pastries off shining china plates. She stopped at the foot of the table, all four adults turning their gazes to the small child glaring at them with narrowed eyes and her hands balled in fists at her sides.

"How dare you all laugh while a war is happening!" she screamed, startling all four adults. "How dare you pretend everything is fine when people are dying!"

Ilsa Hermann stood, her chair scraping on the floor. "Liesel, there's no reason for this."

Little Liesel was too worked up for the soft voice of her new foster mother to calm her like it normally does when she wakes from nightmares at night. "No! Stay away from me! I hate all of you!"

"Liesel," the mayor snaps. "Enough of this nonsense. Either take a seat and eat with us or leave the room."

Little Liesel's eyes hardened further, meeting her new foster father's hard gaze with her own hard gaze. "I thought you'd understand. The people in your town are dying because of the bombings. The people you're supposed to be protecting and serving! Instead, you're sitting her laughing!"

He rears back, ready to snap back at the little girl. Ilsa Hermann sets a hand on her husband's shoulder, calming him before turning to little Liesel. "Please, Mausi, take a seat and eat a pastry. They're filled with apple jam, your favorite."

"I don't want any of your food! I want my Papa and Mama back!" she howls, fat tears pouring down her cheeks as her nails dig holes in her palms.

Ilsa Hermann bites her bottom lip, squeezing her free hand together and apart and back together. She chances a glance at their guests, who both looks disgusted with little girl's attitude and outright display of emotion. Her husband shakes her hand off his shoulder and walks cautiously to little Liesel, kneeling in front of her and pulling her into an awkward hug. Little Liesel, not knowing what else to do, just stands there stiffly, her tears slowing and her sobs quieting. Eventually, she rests her head on his shoulder and the tension leaves her body, her little hands gripping the front of her crisp suit shirt.