“What? No!” Immediately assertive, the way they'd been offended when Michael had asked if their grandparents were Nazis. “I...”
How do they explain this to a near-stranger when they don't even understand it themself? That they were lied to, misled by people who hurt them while trying to protect them? They already resent having what should be private pulled from them. Wolfgang frowns, reaching for the rag tucked in their back pocket and wiping their dirty hands off with it.
“I don't remember,” they say finally, flatly. “Anything, from when I was a child. There's nothing there. And then I did, and it hurt.”
They feel so stupid, now, for just believing the lie. An infection, they'd been told. They'd said it was like encephalitis. They were eight. They were in the hospital, they clearly remember being discharged, but nothing before that. So stupid. What kind of fever causes complete retrograde amnesia? None.