Disclaimer: All characters belong to Sater, Sheik, and Wedekind.
So sorry for the lack of chapters. I've been busy with school and crap. This one is a bit shorter and probably not as good. :/ Oh well. ENJOY!
Martha didn't show up at the bridge for weeks. Moritz still went, hoping that she would be there. But she never was. He began to think he wouldn't see her again. Moritz trudged through the halls, dragging his books under his arm. He didn't want to go home and face Father.
"This is impossible!" Moritz stopped. He saw Herr Sonnesicth and Frau Knuppeldick standing outside the headmaster's office. He dived behind a corner.
"You know that we can't allow sixty one pupils in the upper grade. The room upstairs doesn't accommodate that many" said Herr Sonnesicth "It's between Robel and that imbecile Stefiel."
"I know, Viktor. But whose grades are better? Robel's or Stefiel's?" asked Frau Knuppledick.
"Stefiel's of course. But Robel has much more potential." Moritz was taken aback. At least his grades were above Ernst's.
"So who will we fail?"
"We shall soon find out, come the final terms" said Herr Sonnestich "But for now we shall keep them both." The headmaster's door swing open and they both stepped inside. Moritz drew back from the corner. He sighed. It seemed that he wouldn't be getting into the upper grade. He only hoped that his final exam grades were better than Ernst's. He walked sullenly past the bridge and saw Martha.
"Martha! I haven't seen you in weeks!" Moritz exclaimed, running towards her. "Where have you been?"
"Sick" she muttered.
"That's all?" Martha nodded.
"We should get on with those equations" She gave a weak smile and opened the book.
"Martha, what's wrong?" he asked.
"Yes, something's wrong. What is it, Martha?"
"I…I can't tell you."
"You can't tell me?" Martha shook her head.
"Why not?" She felt tears begin to prick her eyes.
"Because it hurts" Moritz took her hand.
"Because what hurts?" He was so close to her now. He could reach over and kiss her, if he wanted to. Martha rolled up her sleeves. Moritz's eyes widened at the splotches of black and purple. He felt anger flare in him.
"He beats me" she whispered.
"Who? Who beats you?" He was still in horror of what he saw. Who would beat her? Who would beat sweet, innocent Martha?
"My papa." His hands instantly balled into fists. What was it with fathers? Why did they use and abuse their children.
"And you haven't told anyone?" he asked. She shook her head.
"If I did, they'd throw me out. Like Ilse." Moritz remembered their old friend, who had told the preacher that her father beat her. Ilse was on the street the next day. Moritz wrapped his arms around her and let Martha cry on his shoulders. This was the closest thing to love she had felt in a long time.