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There was a documentary made about the von Rosewald family. I haven’t seen it, but now that ghouls and humans no longer have to hide from each other, it’s finally treated as a tragedy. Humans say they can’t imagine how, not so long ago, their government could do something so monstrous — killing an entire family, children included. They find comfort in the idea that one might have survived - and I’d like to think that too.
Their home in Bremen is now a museum. The rooms have been restored, so tourists can stroll through and assure themselves the von Rosewalds were “people like anyone else.” I haven’t been there, but I heard that you can see each of the family member’s rooms, the main attraction being Karren’s - the one that got away. They say her room still contains toys and child-sized clothing, an unsettling sight to see, to think that all this happened when she was so young. Some leave letters and roses by her window, as if they think that someday she might come back - and I’d like to think that too.
Lately, there’s been a wave of books about her. Historical fiction, they call it, although they are more fiction than historical; imagining every possible scenario of how she hid from the CCG, and what the rest of her life was like, complete with adventure, suspense, and romance. Clinging to the few facts they knew about her early life, and using it to shape their image of what they think she would be like as an adult. I haven’t read any of them, but I’ve seen the covers — their Karren always looks alive. Whole.
One of these books is being made into a movie. I won’t watch it, but I understand the desire to give a happy ending to a tragedy. The lost von Rosewald is now both a cultural icon and someone that they know almost nothing about. She is the subject of documentaries, books, movies, and conspiracy theories. Many like to imagine that she is still alive and well, and I like to imagine that too - because what else am I to tell them?
That I saw her face as she clung to me, falling to her death, and told me that she loved me, and that I never said it back? That she had lived by my side for years, was the only person who truly understood me, and I had taken it all for granted until I saw her broken body lying on the concrete? That I would not be here without her, and if not for me… she would still be here.
Every day, it haunts me. I can’t help but think that if she was alive, none of this would have happened. Though these stories are far from the truth, maybe this is what she would have wanted. To be remembered as being alive and happy. She said she would be content existing only in my memory, yet somehow I’m the only one it seems to hurt, as I hear her name which was once so scared, that I only uttered in her final moments, on the lips of everyone who never even knew her. And yet, her story lives on. Many talk about her as if she was still here, and all I can say is that I’d like to think that too.