Snapshots

22. Almost Lost

Warnings: Canon child abuse, description of character injury, blood.

A figure hobbled down the cobblestone street. One hand tightly clasped around his other arm right under the shoulder. It was actually all that remained of said arm. The blood flowing from the crushed and torn flesh soaked the side of his shirt, leaching into his pants. The moonlight reflected off his ashen completion.

"Noch... ein... paar... Schritte," he rasped in encouragement. He could see his destination. The building's parapets reaching up into the sky. Reaching the post fence, he stopped as the front door opened.

Candlelight streamed out, casting the features person who opened it in shadow. But the outline was enough to tell him who it was. He waited for the door to slam. To lock him out. Cut him off in his time of need.

Instead, the person hurried from the stoop to the older boy. "Heinz! Ach du lieber Himmel!" Roger finally saw the missing limb. His skin paled almost as much as his brother's. Under other circumstances, Heinz would have noticed and been shocked by the flicker of worry in Roger's eyes. "Scheiß..." Not wasting any more time on formalities, rather curses, he picked his brother up bridle style.

Heinz groaned at suddenly being lifted off his unstable feet.

Fear filled Roger as he carefully carried his brother towards the house. Only a moment ago, he'd been angry at being sent to find the absent boy. Finding Heinz bruised, cut up, or even with a broken bone was a common and expected thing, but this was far beyond anything he could have imagined.

He made sure not to bang Heinz's head against the door frame. "Papa, Mama, he is hurt." Not waiting for their parents to react, he continued to his own room where he placed Heinz on his bed. The thought to bring him to Heinz's own room didn't cross his mind.

"Whats has that saukerl done now?" The disapproval in his papa's voice made Roger flinch.

Mama gasped upon seeing her eldest.

Roger didn't look at either of them; he touched his brother's face. Feeling the coldness of the skin, he looked back at his parents. "He needs help."

"Let the schwachsinniger die. One less mouth to feed," Papa dismissed.

Breaking out of her shock, Mama glared at him before speaking to her younger son. "Roger, go to the village, bring back the arzt!"

"Waste of time!" Papa gripped. "He be dead by then. Better to leave him for the goozims."

Roger watched the blood seep into the sheets from the mangled stump and wondered if his papa was right. Wondered what would happen Heinz died. Because if Heinz died then...

"If he dies, it will be as much of a waste," Mama shot back. "Who will do his chores? Roger can do much for us, his time can not be wasted on gnome duty."

Hearing his fears out loud, Roger stood, filled with determination.

Mama took Roger's place at the side of the bed. "Roger, go."

"Yes, Mama." He turned, walking from the room before he began to run. Roger couldn't let Heinz die. If he was stuck with his older brother's chores, he'd be forced to work instead of playing with his friends. He would no longer have a scapegoat to make his own screw-ups look less bad or be bypassed entirely.

He would never be able to leave this place.

Leaving the cottage, he sped up. Heinz's must live, Roger reinforced, for my own sake.