His wife

>what's done is done<

Goosebumps spreed all over my body even while I speak those simple words. Now it's said, now there is no time for regret.

''Amazing, I'll send you are fellow friend so we can discuss the details of this arrangement.'' His tone of voice makes two things obvious; he is relieved and glad to hear my decision and that he thinks someone might be listening to our conversation. Or maybe he is just being careful. Fact is, he is convinced that either someone does it or might do it which proves that he mistrust the Germans.

The second I place down the phone again, I get out the piture of my father's grave and just stare. A part of me still can't understand why, after all he was so willing to play along. So willing to do anything to prove his loyalty. Another thing that I don't understand is how they could just kill him shortly after I left.

Did he see his own death coming?

Only the idea of it makes me tear up again. Clearly we all will die but isn't what's keeping us alive that we never know when it ends? That we therefore get to live every moment as if it would be the very last one? Knowing when you'll die seems like a torture to me, to others the uncertainty would be more torturing.

Another thing that I don't understand is how he is dead while I am still alive, law would doomed me dead for him being a traitor. Yet I am alive, I am alive, I am alive. Maybe because killing me would hurt Vasily? No. Stalin wouldn't care if his son cried, he didn't care when the other one died.

All of this is logical and yet it makes no sense to me.

The longer I look at this picture, the more the thought of him really being gone settles in. Just like the realisation that I might never be able to place flowers onto his grave. Because now I chose the Americans, I chose to be a traitor to the motherland but at least I won't be one to my conscience or my morals.

Then a knock breaks the heavy silence and its silent scream. Calmly I open the door after I hide this picture only to see a face full of scars. Danil enters the room very quietly. Only as his eyes finish wandering around the room, he look down at me with his lips cruved up a little.

''Your little mind probably tortures you right now with all of the propaganda that was enforced on you. But trust me as someone who has been through it, it'll feel so much better once you can say truly whatever you think.'' Propaganda. A word I only heard when used in the same context as Nazis, at home we never used it. Maybe because it also is something one isn't allowed to say.

With a serious expression on my childish face I nod. He mirrors thos reaction before speaking again. ''What exactly is their plan to get you back to the Soviet Union after the war is done.'' This question makes me think hardly. It's just that I don't remember ever hearing about a plan, maybe there never was one.

Maybe this is what Stalin truly planned for me: get rid of the father and send the girl on a suicide mission. It could be true that I am not meant to survive this. At least it sounds realistic after all I heard. And it would be a rather clean way to get rid of me because the blood would be on someone else's hands.

"I don't know, such a plan was never mentioned." His eyes seemed like nothing could shock him until I just said that. Even he is surprised to hear that. It's possible that he too believes they'd value me more. "Alright, I see. They really left you on your own with this."

Calmly he walks thoroughly the room while I sit on the chair and stare through the air. They didn't just leave me on my own with this, they left me to die. The more I think about this, the more does it sound like an order Stalin would make. And it would be truly witty at that, though it's still just a theory.

"We have some informants in the camp, for example the one who transferred the letter to you. Those will give you notes from us about how and when you should leave the camp. I'd like to give you a set date, though it fully depend on the situation of the war and how fast the Soviets are advancing." Despite his Russian accent, he says 'Soviets' as if it had never included him. Maybe he never felt included.