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What if I did it now? She thought to herself. It’s not like my life is even worth anything. Dark, stormy blue orbs scanned the tiny attic thoughtfully. It smelled of dust, old books and dry chalk sweeping across the attic. Nothing but pin drop silence could be heard as her eyes adjusted to the surrounding darkness. Old toys, clothing and empty suitcases littered around her, making the attic even more uncomfortable. Unfortunately, now that Jojo was back from the hospital, Rosie had explicitly warned her not to leave the attic too often.
Elsa grabbed out a small photo. Three faces stared back at her. Elsa sighed. This was the only photo she’d managed to salvage before going into hiding. Three figures: a boy and two girls, all smiling up at her. And suddenly, something in Elsa broke.
She could’ve killed herself the day it happened. Perhaps then she wouldn’t have to live on her own. Then she wouldn’t have to pick up the pieces of her life and somehow cope without the very people she cared about. None of this would be happening if she’d killed herself the minute the tragic news was given to her.
FLASHBACK:
Warm sunlight filtered on the ground and fluffy, white clouds moved swiftly by. A few cars drove past while a fourteen-year-old Elsa carefully walked across the street alone. Normally, she would’ve walked with her friends, Inge and Nathan. A heartbroken sigh left her lips when her boyfriend came to mind. Nathan was dead and Inge had been absent for a long time. However, Elsa kept up the hope she would see her soon.
“Heil Hitler, Elsa!” One of her neighbors exclaimed, while she walked up to the front door. Elsa turned to the voice, not quite used to her new name. Trying to compose herself, she forced a smile in their direction.
“Heil Hitler Erika.” Elsa greeted her tightly. Though she was young, she was no fan of Hitler. Erika hummed quietly to herself and continued watering her cactuses. With a CLICK, Elsa unlocked the door and walked in, shutting the door as she did.
“Imma, I’m home!” she called from the living room. No response. “Imma? Abba?” She frowned, usually her parents greeted her the minute she walked through the front door. Her eyes observed every inch of surface she could see: books left open, half-filled coffee mugs lying around, a knife on the dining table. The room was a mess; they had clearly left in a hurry. Or were taken in a hurry, she thought darkly. Anxiety flitted across her face as she frantically searched the house, running from room to room in hopes her parents were just hiding. Please let this be some sort of prank, she prayed, while checking her parent’s room.
After checking the house multiple times with no response, a devastated Elsa slumped into the living room. It was the first time she’d witnessed the house so deathly quiet. Gone was the smell of her mother’s baking when she came home from school. Gone was the sound of her father ringing the doorbell when he came back from work, despite having a key. Gone was the innocent little girl who believed everything would be alright. Because nothing would be alright again.
With as much motivation as a sloth, she slowly got up and decided she’d go see how Inge was doing. The walk to Inge’s house was not fun. She noticed every crack in the road, every bold, red swastika floating around, every inch of overgrown grass on people’s front lawns. Meanwhile, her mind was swirling with worries for her parents. Were they alive? Or dead? Did the gestapo come and take them? Or did they leave on their own? By the time she arrived at Inge’s house, the sun was beginning to fall. Cautiously, she knocked on the door.
“Elizabeth? I wasn’t expecting you so late. Please come in,” a tired looking woman with short blonde hair answered the front door, with a large smile on her face. There were dark bags under her red-rimmed eyes, it looked like she’d been crying. Elsa immediately felt sympathy for the poor woman.
“Hi Mrs. Betzler! Is Inge free to hang out today?” she asked while crossing her fingers that her best friend was okay. Rosie’s tear-struck expression changed everything.
“I’m sorry my dear but… Inge died this morning from tuberculosis,” she explained through sad tears. Elsa slowly backed up, eyes brimming with tears.
“I-I’m sorry.” She mumbled before bolting off, leaving Rosie at the doorstep. She didn’t pay attention to anything as she ran like the wind. As soon as she got home, she bolted to her room, not caring to shut the front door. Before bounding the staircase, she stopped to grab something from the dining table.
As soon as she got to her room, she turned towards the bathroom and promptly locked the door. Slowly and cautiously, she pulled out the knife. She could do it. Here and now. Leave this horrible world and be at peace. Her parents were gone, so was Nathan… and Inge. She didn’t know how she could live without them. Everyone she loved was gone, she was an outsider… perhaps life wasn’t a celebration after all. Taking a deep breath, she leaned the knife against her left forearm. I’m coming Inge, she thought for one final time.
She slitted her forearm. And again. And again. Her head was pounding. Her eyes watered. Another slit. And another. Blood leaked out of her arm. As she braced the knife near her wrist, a knock on the door surprised her.
“Elizabeth? Are you in there?” Rosie’s kind, motherly voice leaked with concern. Elsa hesitated. She had lost her whole family, yet Rosie was there, being just as concerned as her real mother would be. Without thinking, she burst open the door, dropped the knife with a metallic clang and buried herself into Rosie’s arms, finally able to cope with loss.