The Numbers That Brought Our Fates Together Chapter 223: The Taubert Family.

WARNING! The upcoming chapters contain scenes of mental and physical abuse.

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Germany, 1935.

The ground fell on the coffin with a thud, the smell of fallen leaves wet after a long night rain filled the air with distinctive charm and dampness.

The man looked indifferently at the wooden box, on his face, there was not a hint of sadness or sorrow, as if he were an extraneous accidental witness to someone's family loss and not the spouse of a young woman who had so unexpectedly and tragically left the world.

"Stop crying like a snotty girl! This is life and we all will die sooner or later. No need to make a tragedy of obvious things, everyone around us is looking at you. Surely, even at such a crucial moment, you cannot be even a little more restrained? Your brother, even then, did not utter a tear, and you are acting like a wuss!" The man hissed angrily and squeezed the shoulder of the boy standing next to him with all his might.

Those present at the funeral did not notice this detail, and from the side, it seemed that the father, with care and sympathy, decided to support his son, who had lost his mother.

The boy ignored the man's demand and began to cry even more, either from a sharp pain in his shoulder or from the pain in his chest. He lost the only person who loved and accepted him as he was, who did not demand results from him on the verge of his capabilities, who was close and tried to protect him, risking her life and health.

"If you don't calm down right away, then you will spend the next two days in a dark basement without food. And this time, your weak-minded mother will no longer be able to step up for you. Do you understand me, Marcus?"

But the child did not care what would happen to him after this ceremony ends. He knew that this was not the first and would not be the last instance of the manifestation of the cruel educational principles of their father, who with great, even too ardent zeal, strove to make his sons worthy representatives of the Taubert family.

And how could this heartless tyrant, who set the behavior of Marcus's younger brother, Armand, as an example to Marcus, know that Armand did not cry, not because he was restrained and cold, but because he was too shocked by what was happening before his eyes.

"Marcus, my beloved son, I know that you are a strong and brave boy. Keep an eye on your little brother if suddenly mom's not around, okay? I will always pray for your happiness." These were the last words he heard from his mother on the eve of that tragic night when she was gone.

And now, he mourned for both himself and his brother, not embarrassed or hiding his tears, even if it meant that he would later be beaten again and locked up in a cold basement for a long time. Marcus didn't care what would happen to him, because now, in this cold and dirty ground lay a person whom he loved with all his heart and whom he would never ever be able to hug again.

. . .

Two months after the funeral, life on the Tauberts manor was flowing in its own way, as if nothing had happened before. The only difference was that all the servants in the house were replaced with new ones, so none of the maids knew the past mistress, and their loyalty extended exclusively to the head of the house, the harsh and uncompromising Sigmund Taubert.

Marcus quietly slipped into the kitchen to steal a few sausages and bread. Fortunately for him, there was nobody in the room, otherwise it could have become a serious problem. Father was principled in his decisions, and one of the rules of the house was a strict meal on schedule.

On top of that, before every dinner, Mr. Taubert checked his sons' grades, and he was especially careful on days like today – when the school term ended and they got test results. So Marcus knew very well what consequences awaited him when his father found out about his academic performance.

The boy opened the top cabinet door and reached for the bun, as the kitchen door creaked and opened.

"Damn, you scared the hell out of me," Marcus breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was Polina, the daughter of their cook Marta, who began working in the manor after the death of their mother. The boy took a couple of buns, closed the cabinet door and got down from the chair.

"So, you decided to steal bread? Your dad doesn't allow this," Polina asked, knowing the strict nature of the twins' father.

"We were given the test results, and since he will look at them before lunch, it would be a reasonable decision to eat in advance, because I am likely not to get either lunch or dinner today," the boy bit off a piece of sausage and also took a bite of the freshly baked bread.

"Do you have bad results? You've been preparing all week, how is this possible?" The girl was surprised, she knew that Marcus was not strong in mathematics, unlike Armand, who was very good at the applied sciences, so the eldest of the twins always had to make a lot of efforts to meet the expectations of their demanding father. But, in the case of Marcus, even this was not enough.

According to their father, of the two twins, Marcus was too much like his mother, so the man "raised" him with special attention, trying to eradicate the boy's useless craving for art and drawing, which their mother was once very fond of.

"Well, anything can happen," Marcus grinned. Polina was the same age as him and Armand, the girl was also ten years old, and they quickly found a common language. She was an only child, in addition to the twins who were inside the premises, and three children often hid in the attic to play and tell different stories to each other.

Polina was an open and radiant girl who loved to laugh and rejoice over trifles. Sometimes, she reminded Marcus of their mother, just as kind and natural. The boys shared their stories about their studies in a private school for wealthy families, and she told stories from the ordinary life of ordinary people, showed them the games of village children.

The children taught her their secret language, and they all communicated among themselves with secret signs, even in the presence of adults. This made their gray and austere world brighter and more vibrant.

Then none of them had even supposed that this friendship would turn into their common curse.