I don't know where I am or what the day is or what I'm doing. I feel so naïve and child like. I remember each moment of the tunnel, the darkness, the dampness, the whistling..

I remember it all. And I remember the running and the pain and then the darkness once again. The darkness never leaves; it just comes in different forms to make you believe you've reached the light, but in reality, it's just another shade of the black, empty darkness. That's all I can think of. I can't see Lukas' face anymore. Nor can I see Friedrich's. Nor even my mother's.

Oh mother.. Help me mother, help me find my way back, please.

Suddenly a wave of ice cold water stimulated all my reflexes and I shot up, eyes opening wide, and my legs kicking as much as they could, despite the pain now shooting through one of them and the bandaging limiting it's freedom.

Freedom, ha. What a mystical thing.

An elderly lady stood above me, a small wooden bucket in her wrinkled pale hands, water having dribbled down her hands and dampening the sleeves of her gown that covered her whole body. She turned the bucked upside down and placed it on the floor before sitting on it, resting her hands on the apron that she wore over her gown, tied around her waist. I looked up to her face, just slightly above my own now; she had kind dark brown eyes, but the wrinkles around them, and the expression she wore on her face had been damaged and worn down by every other emotion.

I realised now that I lay on a small, thin and aged mattress upon a wooden bed frame that lay in the corner of a tiny room, the only other sign of life being a large bookcase on the other side of the room, full with a hundred books or so, all of them content sitting next to their alphabetical neighbour, none of them gathering dust.

"You twisted your ankle." She grunted in a harsh, nasal voice. "I bandaged it up." I looked down to the bandage around my ankle, shin and foot and nodded, she had done a good job.

"Thank you" I whispered, temporarily forgetting how to speak. I looked back around the room, trying to find some sort of notation as to where I was or who this lady was. There was a window but from where I lay, I could only see the sky and the tops of some trees, which told me that I was still on Earth, and that's about it.

"You're from the East." Now that caught my attention back. I shot my gaze back to her stern face, not even wavering a little; it wasn't a question, it was a statement. "I watched you running from that damn sewer. I assume you have a very good reason for being so unbelievably stupid."

"I'm trying to find someone."

"Are they in danger?"

"No-"

"Were you in danger?"

"No-"

"Then why the hell are you here!"

"I-I just.. Well we had a fight and he came here and I need him back and-"

"I asked for a good reason, not a sappy bloody story." She snapped at me, her eyes glazing over with angers, covering up the earlier kindness. I sat up against the wall and looked down to my hands, ashamed. What had I done? Had I really been this stupid? She groaned, as if she could hear my thoughts, and massaged her temples. "Giving me a headache, stupid girl. Where is he?" I glanced at her surprised, was she going to help?

"I don't know.."

"Ridiculous girl. We'll leave in the morning." She snapped, her harsh tone showing clearly.

"Where are we going?"

And with that, she gave me the last glare I would ever see from her, got up from the bucket and left the room.

****************************************************************************

"Morning ma'am. Are you ready to go?" I stared at the young girl, no older than 12 I assume, wearing a similar gown to the older lady, who I now assume was her grandmother, yet for her, it was much more flattering. She had long blonde hair tied into two braids that hung by her ears and lay on her shoulders, her eyes a striking bright blue, and her skin almost porcelain, except for the odd freckle and blemish. I looked her up and down once more before nodding towards her and walking away from the window at which I had been standing, gazing out onto the street.

"Just call me Kirsten. What's your name?" I inquired.

"Freija." She glanced down at her feet, a small redness blushing her cheeks slightly. Embarrassment? Why she would be embarrassed, I had no idea.

"That's a lovely name." I complimented her, before going to the bed to sit down and adjust the laces of my shoes.

"Thankyou." She walked to the door, opening it once again, leaning against the side of it, waiting for me to go through, so I complied. Outside of the bedroom was a thin hallway that led into another small hallway which consisted of 4 doors; the front door, the bedroom door, the living room door and another one which I assumed was some sort of bathroom. It was quite a cute place and I would enjoy staying here in other circumstances.

I looked back to Freija, "So... Where are we going?" I asked, suddenly feeling a slightly wave of uncertainty towards this girl and where she would be taking me. Since, after all, I had only just made her acquaintance.

"Brandenburg Gate." She replied bluntly, opening the front door and popping the keys back on the side.

"Where's that?"

"I can't explain, we need to go or we'll miss it." Her voice began to grow harsher, yet had a small ounce of excitement stored in the back. It sounded as if she were excited but was trying to hide it from me for some reason, perhaps to keep up this assertive, powerful façade she was trying to pull off in order to make her the boss, and not myself.

Then I heard the sentence. 'We need to go or we'll miss it'. What was she talking about? We were trying to find Lukas weren't we? "Miss what?" I repeated my thoughts out loud.

"The speech."

*****************************************************************************

We had been walking for a while, following the path between the Wall and a road, the name of it I'm sure Freija told me a million times but it always escapes me. The Wall had hundreds of paintings, words, names, "Debbie loves Rob"s, and general graffiti on it, you could barely see the original wall left. In some ways it was a complete mess, but in other ways, it was just beautiful and full of colour. It was the work of the people, expressing their feelings. This was the heart and soul of the West. On the other side of the road lay a long line of trees, which introduced a very peaceful and calming atmosphere to the area, in contrary to the usual block apartment buildings. I could barely see the end of the line, but there was a dip in them not too far away, like a semi circle biscuit cutter cut into them. And opposite that, a huge building; the Brandenburg Gate. In the middle was a set of 6 pillars holding up the huge platform on top. Next to this were two, what seemed like mini versions of the main gate.

The Wall lay not far in front of the building, but it was irrelevant, because in front of the wall was a stage taking up all the glory. The front of the stage held up a German flag, and at the back of the stage, 18 flags were set up; English, German, American and a flag I couldn't recognise. But these weren't the centre of attention that the crowd of hundreds of people who stood in front of the stage were focusing on. The crowd of men and women, of citizens and the press, everyone stood in front of the stage, staring in wonder at the man standing proudly in the centre in front of a podium. The man dressed in a black suit, accompanied by various other ladies and gentlemen dressed in suits and army uniform. The man who would be remembered for the rest of time for his speech.

Ronald Reagan.

Freija grabbed my arm and started running faster towards the edge of the crowd; she didn't want to miss a single word. The view from where we stood was awful, hundreds of taller adults standing in front of you whilst you are not very tall, is not practical. But we could only just see him through a gap of people's necks, and of course, he had a microphone, so it didn't matter if we could see him or not; we could hear him. And that's all he wanted.

"We welcome change and openness, for we believe that freedom and security go together, that the advance of human liberty can only strengthen the course of world peace..."

I glanced around the audience, everyone was staring at him with this childlike wonder, as if they had just seen St Nicholas himself. Every word Reagan said, every syllable, every breath he took, the crowd soaked in his presence and enthusiasm and just his words. Everyone was recording his words in their head, ready to repeat for the rest of their lives. I felt a small smile come on my lips, I was so grateful I got to see this, and I now saw why she had brought me here

"...If you seek peace, if you seek prosperity, if you seek liberalisation, come here to this gate, Mr Gorbachev, open this gate."

The crowd burst into a fit of cheering, he was saying the words that everyone had been thinking for the last 20 or so years. A person in power was actually taking the people's side. He was actually making a stand. And for the first time in a long time, everyone here had hope. Hope that had been pulled apart with every news report or sighting of those who had died trying to cross the wall. Hope that had been torn in two like our families had been when the Wall was built. The Wall wasn't demolished yet, and probably wouldn't be in a long time. But everyone had been given hope here, hope that we would see this Wall demolished in our lifetime.

The crowd quietened down for a moment and Reagan took a breath, before opening his mouth and saying his most famous words to his audience.

"Mr Gorbachev, tear down this wall."