*Thursday, July 10, 2011*
In a private room of one of Berlin's top hospitals, Johana lay in bed, her breathing steady despite her fragile appearance. Her skin was pale, marked by illness, and her face bore deep dark circles. Beneath the cap she wore, the visible effects of chemotherapy on her hair were evident. Yet, her gaze remained calm as she watched birds chirping outside.
A faint click sounded at the door, breaking the silence. Kaiser, a chubby five-year-old boy, rushed to his mother with a radiant smile, his innocent face full of life.
"Kaiser... come to Mommy," Johana whispered, an affectionate smile lighting up her dry lips. She gently patted the spot beside her on the bed, inviting her son to join her.
Kaiser climbed onto the bed, snuggling close to his mother. "How are you feeling, Mommy?" he asked, his voice full of concern.
"I'm fine, sweetheart," Johana replied softly, though a hint of fatigue dimmed her eyes. "And you, did you have fun today?"
"Yes! I was on the phone with Daddy, and he taught me a new word in Italian!" Kaiser seemed proud of himself.
"What word, my love?" Johana asked with interest, her smile widening.
"Guarigione! It means 'healing.' When I grow up, I'll be a great doctor and cure your illness!" Kaiser declared with enthusiasm and touching conviction.
Johana let out a soft laugh, her heart warming despite the gravity of her situation. "Oh, my angel... I believe in you. You're very smart for your age."
She gently caressed the lobe of his ear, an affectionate gesture she made from time to time.
At that moment, the door opened softly, and a little girl entered the room, holding a drawing. It was Serena, a bit older than Kaiser, with her mother's blonde hair and her father's blue eyes. She approached the bed with a radiant smile.
"Mommy, look what I drew for you," Serena said, holding out her drawing.
Johana took it with trembling but tender hands. "It's beautiful, Serena. You're really talented."
Serena smiled proudly. "I wanted to draw a place where you can rest when you're healed."
"Thank you, sweetheart. It's perfect, a perfect place," Johana replied, her voice filled with love, as she gently stroked her daughter's cheek.
Kaiser, however, sat up abruptly, worried. "Mommy, you look tired... I'll get the doctor."
Before Johana could protest, Kaiser left the room with determination. As he crossed the hallway, he couldn't help but notice the guards in black suits armed with assault rifles monitoring the area. Their faces were impassive, hard. It seemed strange to him, but he was too young to understand the full gravity of the situation.
*'Mommy doesn't like this kind of life... I wonder why Daddy is always so paranoid,'* Kaiser thought as he walked past the guards blocking certain areas. Hospital staff avoided this zone, apparently out of fear.
A few minutes later, Kaiser found the office of the doctor in charge of his mother, Dr. Wilfrid. He knocked on the door, and after a moment, entered the room.
"Dr. Wilfrid, Mommy doesn't feel well..." Kaiser said, his small voice serious.
The doctor, a man in his thirties, turned to him. "Oh, Kaiser... Your mommy is strong, she's undergoing a difficult treatment." Wilfrid tried to divert his attention by pointing to some candies on his desk. "Want a candy?"
Kaiser frowned. "No need to change the subject, Doctor. I know the chemotherapy isn't working as planned." His eyes were grave, far beyond those of a child his age. "Mommy's brain tumors have developed resistance to the chemotherapeutic agents, making the treatment ineffective."
Dr. Wilfrid was speechless, surprised by the young boy's insight. "You... you know a lot for your age, Kaiser. You want to become a doctor, don't you?"
"Yes, I'll find a cure for cancer," Kaiser declared confidently, his eyes shining with hope.
Wilfrid nodded, impressed but saddened. "Well, you've got the makings of it... But for now, you need to stay strong for your mommy."
Before he could say more, gunshots suddenly rang out in the hallways. The sound of gunfire echoed through the entire floor, causing immediate chaos. Kaiser's heart clenched, and a wave of panic rose within him.
Wilfrid, realizing the gravity of the situation, grabbed Kaiser to protect him. "Stay here, it's dangerous!"
But Kaiser, driven by an instinct he didn't understand, broke free and ran out of the office.
"No, Kaiser, wait! Come back here!" Wilfrid shouted, desperate to catch him.
When Kaiser reached the hallway, the gunfire seemed to have stopped. The guards protecting his mother lay on the ground, their bodies riddled with bullets. The air was heavy with the smell of gunpowder and blood. His hands trembled, but he kept moving, his heart pounding wildly.
Upon reaching his mother's room, he pushed open the door. What he saw froze him in place. Johana, his mother, lay there, her throat slit, her gray eyes lifeless. He didn't have time to comprehend the full horror of the scene before Wilfrid, who had finally caught up, blocked his view with trembling hands.
"I'm sorry, Kaiser... But it's too dangerous here. We need to leave now," the doctor whispered, trying to pull him away from the carnage.
Kaiser, paralyzed by horror, tears silently streaming down his cheeks. He didn't fully understand what was happening, but an unbearable pain pierced his heart. Where was Serena? Had she been brutally killed too? Who did this? And why wasn't his father there to protect his mother?
Years later, he would learn that his sister and father had vanished without a trace.
...
In a dimly lit room, illuminated only by the cold light of a laptop screen on a cluttered desk. Loose papers fluttered in the breeze, pens scattered, and open anatomy books littered the surface. Kaiser sat in a chair, shoulders hunched, tired eyes fixed on the screen. His hair was disheveled. He wore only shorts, his thin torso bare.
"Damn! Why do I keep dreaming about that!"
His raspy voice broke the silence. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, his half-closed eyes betraying deep weariness. He had just dozed off briefly, his head resting on his hand, reviewing physiology diagrams for his goals. But sleep had brought no respite. Only a familiar nightmare that jolted him awake.