Art of Dying

1

Hamburg, 1960

12am

My parents are asleep, thank god. If i ever want to get out of here, have a chance at a normal life, it has to be now.

With tears in my eyes, i quietly grab my suitcase that has already been packed. I make sure that i have all of my money and then i quietly make my way down the stairs.

However, something stops me in my tracks.

My sisters room.

I quietly open the door to her room and make my way over to her. A pang of guilt hits me as i look at her sleeping form. At this point i can't hold back the tears anymore and they start flowing down my face.

"I love you little girl. I promise i'll come back for you. You gotta stay strong." I cry softly, kissing her cheek.

"I love you so much Ella."

I take one last look at her and then leave.

When i'm outside, and far away from my home, well...i can't really call it a home, i exhale deeply.

I don't have to hold back anymore and just let it all out. I start crying, loudly. Both out of sadness and happiness.

"I can't believe i made it out of there." I sob.

In the distance i see what i think is some sort of club. I make my way over there and notice a bench.
I sit down and continue my crying.

"Mädchen..." A boy says, seemingly with some sort of english accent.

I dry my tears and look up at him.

"Ist alles in Ordnung? Warum weinest Du denn?"

I chuckle at his effort to speak German.

"I'm fine...don't worry about it." I laugh.

He sits down next to me.

"Ah you speak English." He smiles, a cigarette in his mouth.

He looks me up and down, his eyes widening. He takes off his jacket and wraps it around me.

"Here. You seemed cold."

"Thank you."

"Now...why were you crying love?"

I look down into my lap.

"I ran away from home." I admit, tears welling up in my eyes again.

I recall all the horrible times my parents beat me up. I almost died at times. They'd beat me, kick me, curse me and starve me. Lock me up in my room for days.

My body is covered in bruises and i'm just so exhausted. I had to leave or who knows what might have happened.

My sister...she's only 5 years old and my parents don't hurt her like they did me thank god. I will come back for her. I will, one day.

"Why?" He asked genuinly concered.

His eyes fell to my neck.
He pushed my hair aside and bit his lip as hard as possible.

"They did that to you? Your parents?"

His fists were clenched.
I nodded.

He softly rubbed his thumb over the bruise.

"I am so sorry." He said, his own eyes glossy.

"Do you have a place to stay at?"

"No. I just want to get out of here. Out of Hamburg."

He looked pensive.

"Stay with me tonight. I promise, no funny business. I just...don't want you out here on the streets. I want to make sure you're safe. And...in a couple of days me and me mates will go back to England. You could come with us, start over." He said.

For the first time in a long time, i felt hope again.

"What do you think?"

I hug him, taking him by surprise.

"Thank you so much. I'd love to."