Never Coming Home

Frank's POV

I hear every word as it leave's the nurse's lips. I can't imagine what he's thinking right now. I don't think I want to.
And everyone goes silent for a couple of minutes, I think. Regret flashes across the woman's face for a brief second.
"Please, Susan, tell me more. I have to know." his eyes are wide and desperate, looking at her with his hands clasped.
She perches lightly at the end of his bed.
"Well, she's yours, but I doubt she even knows who you are. She's 11, and was sent to Europe when she was an infant with a close friend of Clara's, away from everything going on here. But..."
"What?!" Gerard is nearly hysterical, he had such a dawning love for Clara, that now he even has a need to make sure the daughter he just found out he had is still ok.
"Do you want to know?"
"Yes! Please just tell me!"
"I'm pretty sure you're aware of what's going on in Holland and Germany right now, right now, right? "
He nods. Who isn't? Thousands of Jews dead, brutality. For no reason.
"Well, it turns out, the woman the Clara sent to Germany with her was Jewish, and the child was raised under the same religion. And in times like that with things like that going on , you can understand what kind of treatment is happening."
Gerard goes into shock. He just looks ahead for a few minutes, his breath pace increasing. And he unexpectedly stands up, walking over to the nurse and pinning her against the wall by her neck, hard. She struggles for oxygen, trying to free her neck from his grip, fear is the only thing showing in her eyes. I stand up and run over to Gerard.
"Gee, come on, be reasonable." I say, my voice shaking.
"Is. She. Alive." he grits his teeth with each word.
"I-I-I d-don't k-k-k-know. I-I-I'm s-s-s-sorry. S-s-she d-d-didn't s-say i-i-in the l-l-letter."
He gulps and takes his hands down from her neck, and she slides down onto the ground, shaking.
He walks out of the room, down the hallway. Of course, I follow him. He turns the corner and walks into the room Michael's body is kept.
"Gerard..."
he ignores every word I'm saying. And cries into the corpse's chest. He pulls down the white sheet so you can see his face. And he finally turns to face me.
"Remember him?" he says. His eyes are swimming with tears. "Remember my brother? Dead."
I approach him, slowly.
"He's dead, Frank. Just like Clara. Clara's dead, as well. You know who else might be dead? My unknown daughter. Even my own flesh and blood that I don't know might be dead. Someone up in the sky must really hate me down here." He looks on the table next to the body.
"Oh look." he picks up the only object sitting there. "Michael's glasses." he looks at them. "Why isn't he wearing them? He can't see without his glasses." he takes the glasses and puts them on Michael's face.
"That's better." He crouches down and let's all the tears he saved up slide off his face into his hands. I walk above him and look down at him. I've never seen a soldier look so vulnerable. It's heart-breaking.
"You have to snap out of this." I say, looking down at him. He looks up at me, his expression is pure rage at everything that's deteriorating around him. I shakily hold out my hand and he reluctantly takes it. I lead him back into the room.
Ray's just embracing Emily in a hug, she must be having a longer flashback than usual. Lucy's dabbing water on the side of Susan's neck, there are forming bruises in the shape of Gerard's grip.
"Where did you burn the letter?" he says, much more calmly.
"In the sink in the washroom." she says.
He walks into the washrooms, with me following closely behind him. And there in the basin, is a used match, and the letter, completely unharmed...

Notes

I'm probably gonna end up improvising most of this, but I just hope it goes well. Rate, comment, subscribe, oh I think you guys know the drill by now. ^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^