𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 | | 1917

32. SOMEONE

" She wanted him to watch her dissolve, so slowly that he finally could understand her misery. "

-

ONLY A COUPLE hours later- Julian passed away.

And now there was simply nothing left. And that made it so much worse than anything else.

It had taken some time to understand, but now she did. Perhaps that is why she didn't cry, she just thought. Thought of him and what he had said.

She actually remembered that time in the trenches, probably the first few days she met him. He had told her that she reminded him of someone.

Another girl. Eva.
That was her name, she understood that now.

'I wish I would have cherished her more,' he had said. If only Jo would have known what that meant. How heartbreaking those words actually were to someone who knew the young soldier's story. And she remembered him saying it so clearly, without any signs of emotion that would tell her that the girl he was talking about had passed away, alongside their daughter.

Julian's daughter. His angel.

Jo pressed her hand against her cheek. She didn't know how to feel. Perhaps she was simply done with them- the feelings. She got tired, and she got sick only to later lose the strength to get herself out of that stage in which she found herself.
It consumed her.

Maybe it was better that way.

Now that he finally was at peace. Perhaps she could be too. Letting it consume her; it was bound to happen after all.

That is what they say, don't they?

For once, she wasn't wearing her nurse uniform. It didn't seem to fit her anymore. His bloodstained fingertips were still visible on the washed-out material. Perhaps that was why she couldn't look at it. It felt dirty. Unempathetic even.

It was Sunday, a day which seemed to come a little too rarely for a girl who otherwise worked six days a week. On her body was an Aegean blue coat, one which earlier had belonged to her mother. She buttoned each black button, all the way up to her exposed neck. Her messy hair was hidden under a flatly decorated hat which she pulled closely down her forehead. The gloves on her hands were a bit too small and felt unnecessary, yet she kept them on for whatever reason.

It wasn't very cold outside. It felt freeing. She hadn't been away from the hospital in such a long time. The fact that a world outside its walls existed still boggled her from time to time. Just like it did back in the trenches. You learned to adapt with such ease that you had a hard time adjusting once the limits were gone. You were never trapped, but that was so much more easily said than done. The captivity was held inside your head. The limits which you create.

It was nearly summer- she liked that. Perhaps the spring would be left behind them. Together with the bad memories and together with the ugliness.

So like that, she had decided to not be hurt anymore. To feel nothing. Perhaps she would like for it to stay that way. Because nothing seemed better- easier, sometimes.

She had forgotten how gently time passed in Paris. As lively as the city is, there was a stillness to it, a peace that lured you in. In Paris, with a cigarette between your lips, you could just be.

Her arms folded behind her back as she slowly walked alongside the sidewalk. Her eyes traveled across the street and onto the buildings. Some of them had been buried in the remains of bombings. It seemed unreal so close by. Yet it didn't scare her. Nothing seemed to anymore, at least not according to Jo herself. Death was the last thing she used to fear, but now that was gone. Why, though? She remembered feeling terrified the day earlier when she was sitting by Julian's side.