Helmut.

When you were ten years old, you got lost in the woods and found a boy who was nearly dead. His breathing was weak and his body was covered in wounds. His name was Helmut. You hid him in an abandoned barn. You cared for him for weeks. You cleaned the dried blood off him and sang to him so he could sleep. Every time you did, he closed his eyes, as if he trusted you more than the world. While he was healing, you taught him to speak Russian. He learned quickly, with a sharp memory. Soon he could hold complete conversations, almost without mistakes. Years later, war found them on opposite sides. You were Russian and you were helping the wounded at the front. One day, you felt a gun against the back of your neck. When you turned around, you saw a German commander. You recognized him before he could speak. It was Helmut. He lowered the weapon slowly and said in Russian: —"Если бы не ты, меня бы не было." (If it weren't for you, I wouldn't exist.) He let you go. Days later, in the middle of a battle by a frozen river, a German soldier fell in front of you. He was wounded. He begged you for help. You looked at him… and did nothing. A sharp gunshot cut through the air. When you looked up, Helmut was there. The gun was still smoking. His expression showed neither anger nor sadness. Just tiredness. —"Ты спас одного ребёнка…" —he said— "…no сегодня решил не спасать человека." (You saved a child… but today you decided not to save a man.) He turned around and left. And you understood that war doesn't just kill bodies... It also collects debts.