Note: Again, this is supposed to be in German but isn't for the reader's sake. Another thing, this is the second journal entry that is written in this book and necessary to the plot. This isn't the actual second entry.

‼️TW: Starvation and trauma-related eating habits‼️

Rhine had been in the hospital for at least a couple of months by now. He was for the most part healed, except for the broken bones. Why he was still in the hospital, Rhine wasn’t sure.

But it was journaling day, and that meant picking up the journal and pen he had to write things down.

14th of September, 1945

I've been in the hospital for a couple of months now. Either because I still have some broken bones or because my eating habits worry the medical personnel. Isn't it normal to eat very little to conserve food?

On that note, I remember going to sleep almost every night without enough food to soothe the blade-sharp pangs of hunger. TR and I split our food equally since we knew that the other would die if one of us starved to death.

I grew attached to stale bread pancakes, which became my favorite (and only thing) I could try to make. Milk was scarce, however. So stale bread pancakes were like a delicacy for us.

I remember one particular night when I had lied down, I couldn't get comfortable. Lying on my back just made me aware of how worn the mattress was. Lying on my sides put a little pressure on my stomach, which felt slightly bloated yet had these occasional sharp pangs that I could attribute to hunger. Lying on my stomach was a bad idea since putting pressure on it hurt like hell.

So I got up and exited my room. I could hear TR snoring softly in his own room. But that wasn't what mattered to me. I needed a little more food.

The kitchen was dirty and dark, but I managed to make it to the pantry without making any more noise than I had to. The door opened surprisingly silently for its age, but that didn't matter to me at that moment.

I grabbed the already dwindling stash of bread and ate a few slices. I didn't want TR to find out, even if I occasionally suspected him of sneaking food for the exact same reason I was now.

I was able to sleep that night, but not without the guilt of having eaten three slices of stale bread

Another thing is that yesterday USSR brought me a dog, a German Shepherd to be exact. Her name is Luna and as I am writing this, she is lying on my stomach. She's only three, and fairly small for her breed. Her lying on my stomach makes me extremely aware of how starved I am. Maybe the doctors were right to keep me here.