By Vaani T.

I tried to zone out the cheers and laughter of the Official Virginia State VE Celebration. The joy and festivities were only a bitter reminder of what I had lost. I came here for a reason, and I would complete it… for Miles. Happiness had no place in my mission; I had to remember that.

The day I received news of his death will always be stained in my memory. I’d opened the door to find a short, balding man with glasses slipping down his crooked nose. Sweating bullets, he had possessed the air of a frightened cat. 

However, something was obviously wrong. If I had known to what extent, I might have never let him in. When he entered, so did the heavy pressure of sorrow; however as he left, the presence lingered. It never left, constantly reminding my mother of the loss of her only son until it consumed her in its folds. My father turned to liquor to escape, and not long after, he, too, surrendered to Death’s loving embrace.

“Lola! Look what I found,” came the high-pitched voice of my youngest sister, Maisie, jolting me out of those dark memories. With rich golden hair, freckles, and chocolate brown eyes, she was beautiful. Her long, pale arms were pointing to a cotton candy stall.

I gave her one of my rare smiles. Those seemed to have disappeared the moment He entered our door. “Sure, how much are they?”

This comment caught the attention of multiple passersby, many of whom shot me repulsed looks. One woman stopped and exclaimed, “Deary, you don’t really think you need to pay? We’ve just defeated the Nazis! It’s free, of course!” Saying this, she stooped down and handed Maisie a pink roll. “From Auntie Linda,”

I felt my blood boil.

“Let’s go find Mable,” Maisie quickly suggested, dragging me into the confetti and cheers. She knew what I was like about the Nazis. 

There were tall buildings left and right, banners hanging on every door. The heavy sorrow that was ever present in my house went unnoticed here.

“Ay! One for the ‘ung misses?”

I ignored the tall, crippled stranger and continued down the alley. He wasn’t the first one to have his life ruined by the war. My father’s friend had a son, Eric. Eric had been a promising young lad until the war ruined his leg. Nobody wanted a man unable to walk. Nowadays, Eric could be found living in a bundle of rags near New Kiley Avenue.

Taking a sharp left, we arrived at a rundown store painted yellow. Above it was another one of those dreadful signs, with laughter ringing out from under the door. There was no way I was going in. “Go inside to get your sister, and hurry out, both of you. I have someone to introduce you to,”

Maisie gave me an exasperated sigh, but like the lady she is, she went and did as she was told. Like the lady I could never be.

Soon after, Maisie came outside with Mable, both their lean arms laden with candy and flowers. “Mrs. Smith told us to say ‘hi’,” Mable said immediately.

“Well, you tell Mrs. Smith I say ‘hi’ too, alright?” Mable was slightly older than Maisie, however, just as clueless and lovable. One look into her misty blue eyes was all it took. Miles had the same bright eyes and rough brown hair that was always ruffled the wrong way. “Come on, I want you to meet my… friend.”

“Lola has a friend?” Mable began, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“NO WAY!” Maisie added, knowing my unfriendly nature.

“Oh, I’m not that sullen,” I protested, almost laughing a little. I remember when Miles used to tease me like that; however, back then I was a giggling bundle of joy. The War took that for me the day they let my brother die in Normandy, his blood staining the wretched sand of Omaha beach. Focus! I scolded myself. You came here for a reason. 

I gripped my sisters’ hands more firmly and led them toward Max’s house. Max was my partner for 2 years in the war. We both were intelligence collectors for the OSS. I would be Max’s maid and his means of getting the valuable information he collected out of his house, and we were an unstoppable team. Until my brother died. That’s when people say I started to lose it, efficiently getting myself kicked off the team, with Max following shortly after.

They didn’t know that I was rehired.

Feeling nervous, I approached Max’s run-down door and smartly rapped twice. Almost instantly, the door creaked backward revealing a man in his 30s, with dark brown eyes complimenting his deep tan and bushy eyebrows. He broke into a picture-perfect smile, beautiful despite the scar that darkened the left part of his face. “Lola! You came,”

“Of course I did.”

 Maisie and Mable were trembling behind me, hating male strangers. Right before our dad died, he would bring his drunk friends with him for a game of polo. However, he chose to ignore when his supposed ‘friends’ harassed us. My siblings have not yet recovered, however, the tortures of war had long rendered me immune.

From behind Max came a slender woman with a welcoming smile. “You must be Mable and Maisie! Come in, please!”

Mable looked at me for reassurance, and when I gently waved them on, they both gave me tight hugs and followed the woman into the house. 

Max looked at me with worry shining in his golden-brown eyes and placed his hands on my shoulders. “You’ll be careful?”

I let out a strangled noise that was in between a laugh and a sob. “I always am.” Uh-oh. I was tearing up. I couldn’t be emotional; not today. I shoved all my sorrow into a jar for later, when I would need it.

“Then good luck. Your girls will be safe. I remember all that Miles Dixton was… and still is,” Max pulled me in for a hug before closing the door.

“Me too…” I whispered, before walking away from his house in long, determined strides. I would avenge my brother, whose murderer most believe dead. The OSS and I know he’s not. We know he’s hiding here. Near this very celebration. Not for long, though. Soon, he shall depart this world and enter a forever hell, sent there by my hands. 

I would kill Adolf Hitler.

About the Author

Vaani T. is a passionate young author emerging from the West Coast. Although she loves most genres, historical fiction will always hold a special spot in her heart.