Chapter 63 #2
Whenever he comes back after hours, he brings antlers from his hunting lodge that are so big that guests marvel at them every time in our hunting salon.
Mother hates them. She would never admit it, but the horror in her eyes whenever Father comes back with blood on his fingers, one of those antlers in tow, spoke volumes. As if she were not herself. If she had ever been that in his presence...
“Today you will prove that you are my son.”
With these words, he pressed one of his most precious hunting rifles into my hands and took me with him into the forest.
Until now, I am ashamed of every branch that snapped under my feet. Father stared me down.
At some point, when I thought I had scared away every animal, he pulled me behind a tree. His eyes were like those of a predator before he put his index finger to his lips and peered into the distance.
Full of excitement, I followed his gaze. But there were no animals. Just two people. A father and his son. A blond boy my age.
Levi. With his father.
They had been taking a winter walk, deep in conversation.
The thought that Father and they might encounter each other made everything inside me stiffen.
Suddenly, Father raised his rifle.
My eyes widened, and I instinctively pushed his rifle down, but faster than I could think, he grabbed me by the throat with his leather glove.
“They're Jews, boy. Dirty scum that infests everything good.”
He let go of me and pressed my rifle into my hands.
“Prove to me that German blood runs through your veins.”
His gaze was more devastating than the numb feeling in my stomach.
As if in a trance, I operated the weapon, following all the steps he had taught me a year ago, and raised the rifle with trembling hands. All this so slowly, as if time stood still. It did.
Torn between telling my father that Levi was my friend and obeying him, I stood motionless and aimed at his father.
I had been too slow.
A shot.
I flinched and watched through the scope as Levi's father sank to his knees.
Winter birds startled out of the thicket.
My father quickly reloaded as shock fought its way through my body like a vibration.
I'll never forget how wide Levi's sky-blue eyes were when he stared in my direction.
One second before Father pulled the trigger again.
Jeff The Killer (Piano Version)
(Sweet Dreams Are Made Of Screams)
Myuu
December 28th, 1967
“You are not my son.”
These words have burned themselves into my mind.
Whenever I dream of Levi’s wide-open eyes, of the dark red carpet that had spread out under him and his father, I jerk awake and vomit on my bedroom floor.
The Brockmans are reported missing, but Father doesn't even give the impression of having anything to do with their disappearance.
His eyes are as dead as Levi's.
“You are not my son.”
Sometimes I wish I weren't.
If he knew I was no better than Levi. Would he leave me behind in the snow too?
January 15th, 1968
They found their bodies in the forest. But since they had never had anything to do with Father, the police didn't even question us.
Leah cries every day when her mother picks her up from school. And I hide like a coward so she won't see me.
It's better for her. Knowing me would cost her her life.
I don't throw up anymore, but the nightmares don't stop. They only get worse.
Levi often lies in my bed, next to me, looking at me with hurt yet lifeless eyes, and I feel all the guilt that weighs me down. Until I'm no longer sure whether the blood soaking my bedsheets is coming from his chest or mine.
If Father shot me, no one would come to save me. Not even Levi.
Levi won't become a doctor. Levi is dead.
March 21st, 1968
The police have already given up on the case. Just like that. Overnight. And since then, I've been trying to get used to the new normal.
Strangely enough, the boys in my class are no longer beating me up. They keep their distance. As if I were dangerous. As if they respected me.
Whenever I see Anthony, I let him know with withering glances that he'd better stay away from me.
He is to blame for Levi's death.
The Method Works!
Johnny Klimek, Reinhold Heil, Tomy Tykwer, Sir Simon Rattle,
Berliner Philharmoniker, Melanie Metrano, State Choir Latvija
May 21st, 1968
When I came home today, everything was strangely quiet. No staff. No record music from Father. Nothing.
But that wasn't what made me freeze. It was the smeary pool of blood in the entrance hall. In the middle. Levi.
I stared, tried to blink him away.
Levi disappeared. But the pool of blood didn't.
It took me a while to follow the trail of blood into the hallway leading to my father's study.
I stopped.
A second later, someone slammed their fist on the desk. The way I had only ever seen my father do.
With my heart pounding, I gripped both straps of my backpack as my stomach prepared to see Levi again.
“You already buried the Frenchman. What exactly is the problem now?!”
Father sounded angry.
“This one is no stranger...”
Joseph's words made me step forward and enter Father's study.
Father was sitting at his desk, a revolver in front of him, from which he looked up in concentration. At me.
His cold glare put every hair on my body on alert.
“Look who's home.”
A dangerous smile, which I didn't recognize from him, because he never smiled, twisted his lips into a grimace.
I couldn't hold his gaze, instead I looked at Joseph, who was also dressed in a neat business suit. Only his face was pale as a ghost and he stared at me as if I were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
At his feet, right where the trail of blood ended...
All my organs failed as my eyes widened.
“Would you like to lie down next to your traitor mother?”
There was a click, and the next moment I was looking straight into the barrel of my father’s gun.
Joseph darted between us.
“Arnold,” he forced out. “He’s your son.”
Tears rolled from my eyes. Tears that proved I wasn’t his son.
I looked back at Mother. She wasn't moving. Her eyes were wide open. Gaping, just like the hole in her forehead.
“He's a goddamn Jew!”
I flinched as Father jumped up and Joseph stepped back toward me, as if he cared whether Father put a bullet through me too.
“He will never inherit my legacy! And he is definitely no longer my son! So step aside, Joseph!”
The conversation faded into the background when I discovered the second hole in her chest. It must have been the first.
Father knew. He knew what I was.
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
I looked up in shock.
Joseph never disobeyed him. He was his puppet.
“You'll attract too much attention,” he gritted out. “First the town doctor and his son. And now your own family. Do you really want to end up behind bars?”
“You'll take care of it for me, like you always do!”
“I can still do it. But I can't guarantee anything if you kill him too.”
Joseph sounded composed.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Father lower the gun and throw it across the room, causing Joseph and me to flinch.
He rushed around the table, glaring at me angrily, but I quickly looked away, ashamed of every tear, while fear tried to eat away at me from the inside, along with a nausea that was inexorably rising and threatening to bring me to my knees.
Mother lay there. Dead.
“Someday.” Father stepped toward Joseph and stopped in front of him. “You’re going to regret this.” His voice was quiet, controlled. “At the latest when that worthless spawn of a whore comes and wants to take what he thinks is his from you.”
Joseph looked away, into nothingness, his trembling hands clasped behind his back, which Father ignored.
He glared past him, at me, hatred in his eyes. Hatred that he would take out on me as soon as Joseph was gone. With or without his gun.
Finally, he disappeared, leaving us both in his study.
I stared at the woman who had lied to us. Who had risked her life just to... Just to what? What had she wanted? A life of wealth? Had she... loved him?
More tears burst out of me and I stumbled forward. But before I could collapse on top of her, Joseph grabbed me by the arm.
“Mama...” I whimpered desperately.
“Go to your room. Now.”
I tried to break free.
“He killed her...”
Joseph pulled me around forcefully, grabbed me by the shoulders, and leaned down toward me.
“Troy!” he snapped at me. “Go to your room, damn it, and don't say a word to anyone! Understand?” He shook me as if panic was now taking hold of him. “Understand?!”
I broke free from him and disappeared up the stairs to the attic, where I'm still hiding.
Mother is lying somewhere down there.
Father killed her.
And I know that the day he had murdered Levi, something inside me had died too. And all that remained was waiting for him to finally put a bullet through my skull.
Drip... drip...
– Leaking Batteries Diary