The silence between the trio was palpable as they walked home. Lukas's face is a mess, the bloodstains a grim reminder of the violence that had erupted. As soon as they reach the village, Anastasia storms off, leaving Vladimir and Lukas alone.
Vladimir's words of reassurance fall on Lukas's shoulders like a weight. "It may not have been the right thing, but you did what was needed. We made it home safe." The words offer little comfort as Lukas watches Vladimir walk away, leaving him to face the consequences of his actions.
As Lukas enters the house, he's met with a mixture of angry and curious faces. Natasha's gaze is piercing, but she says nothing, sitting beside Anastasia, who holds her close. Lukas can sense Anastasia's disgust, her feelings towards him now likely irreparably damaged.
Babushka's concern is evident as she inspects the bloodstains on Lukas's face, her eyes scanning for any signs of injury. When she sees none, she asks whose blood it is, her voice laced with worry. Anastasia's words cut through the tension, her voice cold and detached. "It's the blood of a man he beat almost to death." The words hang in the air, a stark reminder of Lukas's actions.
Babushka's expression falls, disappointment and sadness etched on her face. She touches Lukas's head, a gentle gesture that seems to say more than words ever could, before walking away, leaving Lukas to grapple with his own demons.
Lukas stands alone, the weight of his actions bearing down on him. The silence is oppressive, a heavy blanket that suffocates him.
Lukas sat alone, the silence a heavy shroud that wrapped around him. He hadn't spoken to anyone since the previous day, lost in his own thoughts and memories. His mind wandered back to his pre-war life, to the days when he was a promising university student. He had been studying engineering, fascinated by the way things worked and the potential to build a better future.
He remembered his mother, her warm smile and gentle touch. She had always encouraged him to pursue his dreams, to use his talents to make a difference. Lukas's eyes misted as he recalled the countless hours he had spent studying, pouring over textbooks and working on projects. He had been so focused, so driven.
The memories were bittersweet, a reminder of what he had lost and what he had become. Lukas's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside his room. He didn't bother to get up, didn't bother to acknowledge the presence. He just sat there, lost in his thoughts, as the footsteps receded into the distance.
The silence was oppressive, but it was also familiar. Lukas had grown accustomed to the quiet, to the emptiness that seemed to echo through his soul. He wasn't sure what the future held, but for now, he was content to sit alone, lost in his memories.
Lukas's thoughts drifted to the what-ifs, the possibilities that had been lost to the tides of history. If the Führer had never come into power, if he had never been swept up in the fervor of their racist dreams, would things have turned out differently? Would he have never joined the army, never been indoctrinated with the ideology of a superior race?
He might have stayed on the path he was on, studying engineering, building a career, building a life. He might have met someone, fallen in love, started a family. The thought of a wife, children, a warm and loving home, seemed like a distant memory, a fleeting dream.
Lukas's smile had faded, his soul now empty and hollow. He had joined the army because he had to, because it was compulsory, because he had wanted to serve his country in a time of need. But the war had changed him, hardened him, and now he was left with the ghosts of his past.
He thought about the life he could have had, the life he had wanted. He might have been a renowned engineer by now, designing bridges, buildings, and machines that would have improved people's lives. Instead, he was a shell of a man, haunted by the memories of what he had done, what he had seen.
The weight of his thoughts bore down on him, crushing him beneath their oppressive weight. Lukas felt like he was drowning in the what-ifs, suffocating under the weight of his own regret.
As Lukas walked out of his room, his mind was a jumble of thoughts, unsure of what he was doing or where he was going. He saw Anastasia sitting and writing, but she didn't even glance up, her attention completely absorbed in her work. Lukas walked out of the house, still feeling lost and uncertain.
As he walked down the street, he suddenly sensed movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone was running towards him, and his instincts kicked in, his body tensing up in anticipation. But as he turned to face the person, he snapped back to reality. It was the sick woman he had saved a few days ago, the one who had been on the brink of death.
She was smiling now, her eyes bright and full of life. "Zdravstvuyte," she said, introducing herself as Lyudmila. Lukas introduced himself as Sergei, feeling a sense of anonymity wash over him.
"Where are you headed?" Lyudmila asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Lukas shrugged, feeling a sense of aimlessness. "I don't know," he admitted.
Lyudmila chuckled, her smile growing wider. "Wherever the road takes us, eh?" she said, her voice full of mirth. Lukas found himself laughing, the tension in his body easing slightly.
As they walked together, Lukas found himself drawn into conversation with Lyudmila. She was easy to talk to, her words flowing like a gentle stream. He asked her if she was a refugee, like him, and she nodded, her expression turning somber.
"Yes, I have no one here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I have to live, you know? And since I fall sick very often, I'm in constant isolation. It's hard to have conversations with people."
Lukas felt a pang of sympathy for Lyudmila. He knew what it was like to be alone, to be adrift in a world that seemed hostile and unforgiving. But as he looked at Lyudmila, he saw something in her eyes that gave him hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to connect with someone, to find a sense of belonging in this chaotic world.
As they walked, their conversation flowed effortlessly, and they discovered a deep intellectual connection. Lyudmila asked Lukas where he stays, and he mentioned that he was living with Babushka for the time being.
"Ah, Babushka is a wonderful person," Lyudmila said, her eyes lighting up. "She's always been kind to me, never turning me away even when I'm sick. She's a true angel."
Lukas smiled, feeling a sense of warmth towards Babushka himself. "Yes, she's a kind soul," he agreed.
Lyudmila's face lit up as she mentioned Anastasia. "I really like Anastasia too," she said. "She reads poems to me whenever I'm sick. It's so soothing. But sometimes I wish she would initiate conversations or engage in small talk. We're around the same age, after all."
Lukas chuckled, understanding exactly what Lyudmila meant. "Yes, Anastasia can be a bit... reserved," he said. "But she's a good person at heart."
Lyudmila nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I think she's just shy. But I appreciate her kindness, nonetheless."
As they continued walking, Lukas felt a sense of comfort in Lyudmila's presence. It was nice to have someone to talk to who wasn't offering him advice or lashing out at him.
Lukas couldn't hold himself back anymore, he almost wants to use this to determine his worth and his curiosity was getting the better of him. "Lyudmila, can I ask you something?" he said, his voice a little hesitant.
Lyudmila looked at him curiously, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Of course, what is it?" she asked.
Lukas took a deep breath before blurting out his question. "What do you think of Germans?"
Lyudmila laughed, a musical sound that caught Lukas off guard. "Where is this coming from?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.
Lukas shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. "I just want to know," he said.
Lyudmila's expression turned serious, her eyes clouding over for a moment. "I'm a victim of the German war of aggression," she said, her voice steady. "I lost my home, some of my friends... but you know what? There's not a single grain of hate in my heart for the common people of Germany or even the common soldiers."
Lukas's eyes widened in surprise, intrigued by her words.
"They do what they're told, right?" Lyudmila continued. "I've seen worse from communists. You can't generalize an entire nation or group based on the actions of a few."
The wind picked up, rustling through the trees as Lukas felt a weight lift off his shoulders. His eyes widened, and a smile spread across his face. "You have a good grasp of humanity, Lyudmila," he said, feeling a sense of admiration for her perspective.
Lyudmila smiled back, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "I think it's just a matter of perspective," she said. "We can't let hate consume us. We have to find a way to move forward."