She doesn't remember how she escaped.

It was a Thursday morning. She remembered a bright light shinning in her eyes while lying on a table of some sorts. Wendla remembered swallowing a tiny pill, screaming and running away, and then everything went black. Then she slightly remembered waking up on a couch in a small apartment. There had been a note:


I'm just going to sum this up for you. You were at an abortion office, but nothing happened to you. You escaped. I found you lying in the cold and brought you to my house where you slept for three days straight from the medicine you received and exhaustion. Now, everyone in Wernigerode thinks you're dead. Melchior wants to meet at the grave yard tonight. But you must beat him there before he jumps to conclusion. Don't be late. If you need anything, make yourself at home.


But she was running now, headed toward the Wernigerode graveyard. She promised herself she would thank Ilse for helping her. Her whole family thought she was dead. She had seen the newspaper cut-out titled 'Young Bergman Dies of Anemia' and how her family was distraught from the loss of their daughter. Wendla clutches her stomach in pain. She had been running for so long. She was finally in hearing distance of the grave when she heard an enormous cry.

"NO!" Melchior wailed while lying on top of the fresh grave of his love. Someone had put a picture of her by her grave. She flashed a beautiful smile for the photo. She looked so young, so innocent. So alive. Melchior grasped the picture towards his heart. He pulled out his razor. He stared at the smooth blade and caressed it around his fingers. He put the tip of the blade to his finger and felt a sharp ping. The blade had drawn a speck of blood. He lifted the knife to his eye level. Right behind him he heard quick footsteps, but he didn't care. He took the blade and slashed open skin. He waited for the blood to fill his lungs but he felt no pain.

"Ow!" a girl screamed and Melchior was on his feet in protection. Wendla quickly wrapped her other hand around the wound on her arm and looked deep into Melchior's eyes, trying not to show how much it hurt.

"W-Wendla? You're alive?' he asked in awe.

Wendla gave a soft smile though the pain still stung her arm. "I'm here, Melchi. My mother tried to kill our child. Somehow I escaped and the doctor told everyone I was dead. They had a ceremony and that was it. But I'm alive. I was drugged and have been asleep for three days." She moved closer to him. Melchior looked at her, bewildered, but he slowly moved his hand towards her round cheek. He wanted to make sure he wasn't really dead or if this was Wendla's spirit. At last, he felt the warmth of her skin and then he crashed into her. He brought her into a strong embrace, like she would slip away any minute.

"Wendla, I'm so sorry about your arm" he whispered while wrapping a torn piece of his shirt around it.

"You should be. How could you ever kill yourself? You've seen what it did to Moritz parents. They'll never get over it. And If I had come one second later, you would be dead and I would have nowhere to go."

"Well, according to this, you'd be dead too." Melchior smirked but there was slight pain behind it. Wendla giggled, which seemed impossible. She had escaped death and saved the man she loves from killing himself. She should've felt like an emotional wreck. But somehow under the circumstances, she was filled with joy that she could actually see him again, feel him.

Lightning crashed across the sky. Wendla jumped.

"We need to get out of here," Melchior said while helping her up, "I think we should go home."

Wendla shook her head. "What? I can't go home! I'm dead, remember?"

Melchior winced as the sight of her tombstone flickered in his mind. Though he knew she was alive, he still felt the pain of seeing the tombstone and how it was a lurking possibility.

"Wait," Wendla exclaimed. "I know where we can go!"

"Ilse?" she called, hesitantly opening the door.

"Come in! Wendla what are you doing back- Oh hello Melchior. So you two found each other." She dropped her eyes to the bloody gash on Wendla's arm. "Wow, what happened to your arm?"

"Long story. Can you fix it?"

"It's going to hurt but, yeah I can."

It took 15 minutes to sow up Wendla's wound. She kept her lips tight during the operation to keep from screaming. After Ilse was finished, Wendla told Ilse about how she found Melchior, after reading her letter, about to kill himself.

"I put my arm in front of the blade so he couldn't cut his neck." Wendla leaned over and kissed Melchior's neck and grabbed his hand. She dragged him to their bed. They lay down, facing each other. Wendla brushed her fingertips on his face and finally set her palm on his heart. She began to hum a song and Melchior kissed her nose before the fell asleep in each other's arms.