With a sad, distant look, Oliver stared out the window, his lips pressed tightly together to hold back tears. After a long moment, he lowered his face and buried it in his hands. His heart was shattered. He could not accept the truth of who he really was. Born in the place he despised most, raised among people who had hurt his friends—he belonged to them now. Just like them, he was a monster.
Traumatic memories had been wiped from his mind for years, but now they were flooding back.
"Oliver, please… will you tell me what's going on? What did you remember that's making you so sad?" Sara gently placed her hand on his shoulder, her eyes full of concern.
He looked at her, voice barely a whisper."Do you promise you won't walk away from me?"
She nodded without hesitation."I'll never leave you. I know who you are inside, and even the worst truth won't change that." Her gaze met his, steady and filled with desperation. "Please… tell me."
Oliver swallowed hard and finally spoke:"I… I killed my parents once. I watched them die."
The words hit her like a blow. She struggled to keep calm, though her breath caught in her throat.
Eight years earlier.
A frightened ten-year-old boy stood trembling before a man with a cruel face and a cap marked by a swastika. The boy swallowed hard, eyes wide with terror.
"You lied to me," the man growled. The boy's breath came shallow and quick. Tears welled up.
"I'll give you one last chance. Tell me the truth—where are your parents?" The man's voice was cold and merciless.
"I don't know," the boy whispered.
In an instant, the man grabbed his hair and jerked his head back sharply, pain shooting through the boy's neck.
"Do you want to kill them? Is that what you want?" the man snarled.
"I'm trying to save them," the boy replied, voice trembling. Tears spilled down his cheeks. "I'd rather die than tell you where they're hiding."
"Damn pup!" The man shoved him to the ground. "If you don't tell me, you'll never see them again. Don't you get that? I'm trying to help them!"
"The Lord wants to kill them. I know that. I'm not stupid," the boy said, clenching his fists tight.
"I'm trying to help them!" the man shouted, then took a shaky breath and adjusted his cap nervously. "This is my last chance to save them. I can help you escape from this guarded village."
"I don't trust you. I know you want to trick me to kill them. I'll never let that happen," the boy said firmly.
"Then let them die. But don't come crying to me for help. Remember that, shithead!"
Oliver sprang up and ran as fast as he could from the abandoned building. Across the meadow, his breath ragged, he glanced back nervously, desperate to feel safe. Suddenly, he stumbled into strong arms. His eyes widened in shock and relief—it was a family friend.
"Oliver, are you okay? Why are you here? Shouldn't you be with your parents?"
"You'll help them, won't you? They're in danger. If they get caught… they'll die. A man tried to make me talk, but I didn't say a word." The man knelt and placed his hands gently on Oliver's shoulders.
"Relax. First, tell me where they are. I'll take you to them and keep you safe."
The boy nodded, trusting too easily. Together they went to where his family was hiding.
At ten years old, Oliver could not yet see the betrayal. He did not realize the family friend was his greatest enemy—who would accuse his parents of murder and treason, sentencing them to death.
Wide-eyed, Oliver watched soldiers heartlessly shoot his parents. He screamed, a piercing, helpless sound. Held back by a soldier, he threw himself into their arms, wishing he could stop it.
But it was too late.
Tears streamed down his face as he stared at their lifeless bodies.
He had killed them. He had betrayed his family.
*
He feels his end approaching. Drowning, his strength drains away. A man holds his head submerged in an aquarium, denying him air. Terror floods him — death is imminent.
He starts coughing when they take pity and pull him out, granting a second chance.
"Where is your older brother?" The man at the desk peels an apple with a knife, his voice cold. "This is your last chance."
"I won't tell you!" Oliver shouts, desperate to save Eric. "You're going to kill me anyway. In your eyes, my family are traitors!"
The man forces a crooked smile.
"For such a young age, you're smart."
With a nod, he signals the soldier to dunk the boy again. Oliver presses his lips together as his face goes underwater. This time, he knows it's the end. No one can save him. But above all, he hopes his older brother is safe.
Oliver deserves punishment. He killed his parents. He trusted the wrong man, even when he had the chance to save them.
"Eric!" he screams silently, terrified of death. "Forgive me, brother."
Then something unexpected happens. The boy collapses, utterly spent, too weak even to open his eyes.
"Oliver! Open your eyes, please!" It's Eric's voice—he's sure of it. Eric has come with the man Oliver never trusted before. "Brother, don't leave me."
Gunshots ring out.
"There's a man who will help us escape this cursed village. Stay strong, please."
"Eric..." he whispers faintly.
That's his last word. Exhausted, he slips into unconsciousness in his brother's lap. His mind erases the trauma. Oliver doesn't want to remember. He wants to forget the past—and who he is.
Present.
"Eric," he says in a voice full of despair while Sara wipes tears from her cheeks. His story makes her ache alongside him. "I didn't recognize my brother," he adds, hiding his face in his hands. "He came back to me. He's here."
"He is," she confirms, wrapping her arms around his back. "Don't cry, Oliver. You were just a child. You trusted the wrong man. It's not your fault. You're the most wonderful person I know."
He cries, resting his head on her shoulder.
"I come from such a terrible place. It's hard for me to bear. I'm no different from those bastards."
"That's not true!" she says quickly, eyes closed. "Just because you come from a cruel place doesn't make you a Nazi. You have a bigger heart than me, Oliver. You risked your life for your brother—and now you can for me, too. You're a great man."
She looks at him as he lifts his face to hers. Her hands cup his cheeks.
"Stop telling yourself you're a bad person, that you don't deserve love, that no one could love you..." Her heart breaks at his pained expression. "You have a brother who still loves you—and me." She lowers her hands and clasps his. "I love you, too, Oliver."
His eyes widen, shimmering with tears. Yet he finds it hard to believe her words.
"I won't leave you. We'll get out of here. You'll finally see how beautiful life can be."
He never imagined hearing such beautiful words from the girl he cares about most—especially when he needed them most.
Through tears, he smiles. She smiles back, seeing how much joy her words have given him. Oliver has been waiting for this—he truly has deep feelings for her. How could she have been so blind?
He needs love.
*
Laura returned to the room, accompanied by Eric. Before entering, they both pushed through the threshold like mischievous children. Eventually, the boy wrapped his arms around her waist, only to be met with a sharp slap. The girl stuck out a finger, warning him to keep his hands to himself. Though she enjoyed his company more with each passing day, it was only because he could still bring a smile to her face. Her heart had stopped beating with Simon's death. This time... she was certain she couldn't love anyone. And certainly not her older brother, Oliver.
Both remained still as their attention was drawn to Oliver. He sat on the bed, head lowered, burying his face in his hands. Sara, dozing quietly beside him, stroked his back with a sorrowful tenderness.
With barely a movement of his lips, Oliver told Eric the memories had returned. Shock flickered across Eric's face. He looked at Oliver with deep concern, and then Oliver slowly lifted his face.
"Brother..." he whispered, voice breaking as he tightened his lips to hold back tears. "I'm sorry," he added.
Eric immediately moved closer and embraced him tightly. Overwhelmed, Oliver couldn't hold it in any longer—he broke down, crying like a child.
Sara motioned silently to her roommate. "We should leave them alone." As the girls closed the door behind them, Eric crouched opposite Oliver, offering a comforting smile.
"So, what are you roaring about? You're not ten years old anymore," he said lightly, patting Oliver's hand. "I came here to get you out. That's why I'm here."
Oliver's voice cracked. "What happened to you during these eight years? How did I end up here?"
"When we escaped the cursed village, things went wrong. We got separated. I left with the man who helped us, but you were taken by a psychologist. Everything was supposed to go smoothly; we were both meant to be taken to the center. But it didn't."
"How didn't it?"
"The man who helped us... they killed him. I ran away and managed on my own, though I kept in touch with a psychologist who helped me." He squeezed his hands tightly. "One day I'll tell you everything. I'm sorry I left you stuck here, but I thought you'd be safe. You weren't in danger from their side. You lost your memory, and the psychologist was family—he protected you all these years."
"If you leave me again... I won't forgive you." Oliver's eyes filled with sorrow.
"As soon as we're free from this hell, we start a new life. I promise."
The general exited the office, leaving Alan nervously glancing around. He regretted not having Sara's gift to see ghosts, but knew the name of the deceased might summon their spirit.
"Simon, I know you're in contact with Sara. Help me this once. It's not for me, but for her and the others in danger," Alan spoke to the empty room, hoping the spirit would hear. "The general's made his final move. If I don't warn Sara, they'll all die tonight. Help me. Please."
He looked around, half hoping to see Simon's apparition, though he knew he lacked the gift. Instead, he pressed on, moving toward the girls' rooms, anxious to warn them. Above all, he needed to protect Laura—to ensure she left safely.
Standing outside the room, Sara noticed Alan but said nothing, careful not to betray his presence to Laura.
"Is something wrong?" she asked casually, glancing at the brunette. The teenager's eyes widened, realizing Sara had seen a ghost.
"Want to tell me something?" Sara pressed gently.
Simon couldn't speak, so Sara grabbed Laura's hand and hurried after Alan into the classroom.
Laura's eyes widened as words appeared on the board:
Alan sent me here. The General has returned to the center. Today is the final day. You're in danger—all of you. You must go into hiding.
Sara read aloud, anxiety thick in her voice. "Does he want to kill us?"
"Trust Alan," Laura whispered. "I think he wants to help."
Sara rose abruptly, unwilling to waste a second more pondering the warning. She believed him.
"We have to run." She grabbed Laura's hand.
Suddenly, an uninvited presence blocked the door. All the words on the board vanished as if erased by magic.
Sara swallowed nervously, clutching Laura's hand tighter.
"Where do you want to run to, sunshine?" a voice sneered, eyes burning with hatred and disgust. Both girls instinctively stepped back, terror flooding them.
"Because I have unfinished business with you... especially with you, granddaughter," the man spat contemptuously.
Her heart leapt into her throat. The darkest scenarios flashed before her eyes.
It was too late.