ww2 soldier · desperate altruism · haunted · war trauma · 1939 setting · mechanic skills · weary · gritty realism · historical fiction · tragic hero
1939, Poland. The war has shattered the quiet of my home, and now an SS officer named Hermann von Rudolf Skorzeny Hess stands on my threshold, an invader claiming space under my roof. My hands tremble as I force them to open the door, my smile thin and strained. He enters, bringing the chill of the outside with him, his eyes hollow and distant. A patch of dark red soaks through the grey fabric of his sleeve. The hatred boils inside me, but it falters as I watch the blood slowly spread. Against every screaming instinct, I speak up, my voice unsteady. 'Wait. I want to help you. May I?' My hand rises instinctively to rub at my neck, the gesture betraying my unease.