Alone
Sydney Marshall
It's dark, cold, and quiet. It hasn’t been the same since 1939.
I am Adiya Pereira, and I am a Jewish girl, the type of person that all Nazis want to store away and beat. I have brown hair that sweeps to my lower back and bright blue eyes that have seen more than a 14 year old should. My face tells a story that I cannot. My dark under-eye bags show that I stay up at night, my bony body and pale skin explain that I don’t eat much and can’t go outside, my dirty nails show that I am scared because they are bitten down to the core. The outside world scares me. I think about what they do to us. It’s not fair. Nothing is.
Black tape reaches the moldy corners of all the windows blocking out the light that once was shining. My house is dirty, cold, dark and scary. I stare at my water-stained ceiling. The dark oak flooring has a creak to it. The radio doesn’t work but still has a slight hum. It smells like dust and sorrow. My bed is made up of old pillows and quilts made by my mother. Oh my mother, she is dainty. I am the baleboste of the house. I take control because my mother is weak. We are nothing alike, but I love her more than the world. She is scared, sensitive, and not responsible, but she is kind, caring and gentle. I am strong, willpowered, brave and responsible. I take care of everything - the house, bills, food and her. I am so tired - too tired for everything and anything.
My town is dull. There is no life to it. It smells like gasoline and fire. The scent gives me a headache that could last forever. The sand on the dirt road blows rapidly at the touch of wind. The gunshots loud and fast always used to ring in my ears, but not anymore. I’ve gotten used to them. Though I am not allowed out of the house, I go to the store once a month. To get food. I steal when the store clerk isn’t there. I’m not proud of it, but it is what I have to do to survive. I run in the shadows, praying that no one will notice me. No one ever does. Mom never notices the new food. She just eats and she wonders when my father will come back home. I don’t remember my father, nor do I want to. He left us no money, never sent us postcards, and never cared. My heart hurts for my mother. She watches the door at night to see when he will walk in. We know he isn’t dead, but sometimes I wish he was.
Today I have to go shopping very quickly. I put on normal clothes, because anything else would look suspicious. I quietly sneak beneath the shadows, knowing it is past curfew. I open the door with a strong grasp. “Hello?” I say softly.
The owner fiercely pops out from behind the counter. “It is past curfew, you shouldn't be out.”
“I am sorry, but I need food to provide for my family and I am not allowed to go out during the day.”
He gives me an okay nod. I quickly grab milk, cheese, left-over meat, fruits, grease, eggs and vegetables. I pile up the food onto the counter. He says $2. I give him the $2 I collected on the road coming here. My stomach growls in pain.I get the bag from his hands and leave as fast as possible. “Slap.”
I am scared to open my eyes. There stands a Nazi with a stern face.
“Es ist nach Ausgangssperre. Du musst nach Hause gehen, bevor ich dich töte!” It is past curfew, go home before I kill you!
He screams at me. Though I grew up in Germany, I speak English. Run. I think to myself. Run, run, run. My heart thumps with fear. As I sprint, I hear the soldier talk to his friend.
“Schau zu ihr, wo sie lebt, sie ist misstrauisch.” Look to see where she lives, she is suspicious.
I run faster than ever. I open my loud and old doorknob to find my mother. Shaking in fear and sorrow, I wrap my arms around her, stroking her hair. I tell her everything will be okay.
I wake up the next morning, sore and tired. I ran a lot yesterday. I wake my mother up and serve her breakfast, eggs. She eats very fast.
Something breaks the silence. A kick. Our door comes crashing down onto the floor. My eyes open wide as fear sews my mouth shut. My mother screams as I can’t move. The Nazis. They see the stars of David all around our house. Why didn’t we hide them, I think to myself. They are angry. Their hands, hard, hot and strong, pull on my arm. I know I will have a huge bruise tomorrow. Mother screams and screams. They hit her as I watch her suffer. I can’t do anything. I am frozen. Scared and quiet I stand, with the soldier shoving me around to get out the door.
He picks me up because he thinks I will run. I can’t fight against them. They are too strong. My mother kicks and hits, but it doesn’t phase the Nazis. They take us to a carriage as the horses stare at me. The Nazi holding me throws me into the back of the carriage which holds more Nazis. Mother then is thrown in. She cries and screams as I try my best to comfort her. A day later we arrive. A Nazi picks me up harshly as I read the sign. Dachau. This isn’t real, I think to myself. Wake up, wake up, wake up. I pinch myself, and I still stay in the present.
The camp is dull and lifeless. There are at least 20 small buildings all aligned into a circle. In the middle of the circle there is a gas chamber. It is big enough to fit sixty of me. It is metal and rusty. The ground in the camp is grass and dirt. I don’t have any shoes. Dirt covers my feet as rocks bang into them. It hurts badly. I don’t wince once. I feel sick. I am thrown into a cabin separated from my mother. In the back of my head, I know she will die soon.
In my cabin there is a boy. I thought boys and girls were separated. Weird. He has dirty blonde hair that has slight curls in it. He has green eyes with black and blue bruises that surround them. He is muscular and sunburnt. As I stare at him I realize he is looking back. I quickly look away and I think about trying to find my mother.
“Hello. I can tell you are new, I’m Warrick. What’s your name?”
“Oh hello, my name is Adiya. Do you know if we can walk around? I am trying to find-”
“No, we can't walk around. We can’t do anything.”
I look at him with an annoyed glance because he didn’t let me finish my sentence. That was rude and uncalled for. He stares at me with his sympathetic eyes. I want to eat. I never had breakfast the morning before I came here. If I am being honest I think this is a dream. I haven’t really thought it through yet. A fourteen year old girl separated from her mother who is going to die. We are all going to die. I start to cry. I don’t cry, I never cry. Warrick comes over to me and pats my back. I don’t know whether to trust him yet or not. I need to stop crying. I was strong and smart. I could find a way out. I have to.
“Why did they let a girl be in the same barracks as a boy?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe it is a mistake.”
Loud knocks take the silence. Someone slides striped clothes through a little door within the door. I slide on the clothes and Warrick looks away. This is my biggest nightmare, coming true. I am so tired, so tired.
“Aufwachen!”
I sit up from the floor. Warrick is scared. I haven’t seen him scared yet. He is biting his nails and crying. He is crying. I have never seen a boy cry before. He held a letter in his hand. I wonder what it is. I never receive letters.
“Are you okay?” I ask in a gentle voice.
“Yes, fine. I write a bunch of letters to my mom and hide them so one day I can give them to her when I am out. If I ever escape.”
Now I am looking at him with sympathetic eyes. I pat him on the back as I stroke his hair, the way I used to stroke my mother’s. Now I needed to protect Warrick, since I didn’t have my mother anymore.
It has been a couple of days. Me and Warrick talk about everything and anything. We have become pretty good friends.
I catch a glimpse of my mother and she is beaten. Badly.
Warrick’s hands shake me gently as I try to open my eyes. Mornings are hard when you only eat bread and drink water. I am sore, really sore. Days have gotten longer and time has stretched long beyond its limit. We have a schedule. Wake up at 5:00 A.M. and get ready for labor. We grow food, make food, provide for everyone (including the Nazis), then we get a slice of bread at 12:00pm, and then more work for the rest of the day till 8, then it's time for bed. Today's work was hard. It was dry. Thank god it is shower day. I worked on planting from 7-12. Lunchtime. I sat next to no one. I didn’t look at anyone, nor did I want to. I shove a corner of the bread into my mouth. I chew it slowly, very slowly.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”
That is mother, I know her scream. I run up from my seat and try to find her. Wow. She is bone skinny and bruised every inch of her body. I become frozen as Warrick meets me at my side.
“Is that your Mother?” he asks, but he knows it's her. I gently nod my head not knowing what to do. I can’t breathe. I am shaking as fear takes over my body. What is she doing? Why? A Nazi catches her. I jump forward without thinking. Warrick pulls my back with a strong tug that hurts my shoulder.
“Mother!” I yell.
“Mother!!”
Louder that time. Warrick puts his hand over my mouth. He is shaking. I know what will happen to her, and there is no way I can stop it. I fall down to my knees banging them to the ground as a rock splits my knee open with a gash. Warrick’s hands cover my knees as I cry. Tears drip uncontrollably down my face. I try to catch my breath but I can’t. Mother will die, and there is no way of stopping it. I go back to my barrack with puffy eyes and shivering lips. Warrick says he will cover my work for me today. I lie on my floor on my stomach with my face pushed to the ground. We aren't allowed to be inside during the day. But no one would know. All the Nazis stay by the gas chamber in case someone tries to kill themself. I think about it, but I’d rather escape and die trying rather than die because I gave up. I step out into the night towards 7. I come out to do my work.
I look ahead of me and every single person from the camp is in a circle wrapped around the gas chamber. In the back of my head I know who it is. Mother. She is going into the chamber. I rush up to the circle pushing my way through. The Nazis have her arms as her feet try to kick them.
“Adiya, I will love you forever, thank you-”
Pssshhhh
The gas chamber opens as she is pushed through the doors. I throw up next to me. This can’t be happening. I can’t cry. I can’t cry. I can’t cry. Nazis will figure out I’m Adiya and they will kill me. Warrick finds me. He holds my hand.
Bang, Bang, Bang!
My mother bangs on the walls of the chamber. Tears roll down my face. Salty and fast. Warrick hugs me.
Ahhhhh!
My throat burns. I am shaking in fear. My face is red and burning. My veins from my neck rise. That was me. I just screamed. Nazis look my way as Warrick puts his hands up.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” Warrick says, trembling with fear.
They push him to the group and start to kick. Hard. Really hard. He is going to die. Warrick is going to die. Why did he stand up for me? No. No. No. I lost two people on the same day. I start to cry. His face. His beautiful face was now bruised. His hair, his beautiful hair is now covered in dirt. His lifeless body is kicked over and over and over again.
“Adiya-”
He coughs, and coughs. Blood from his throat pours out of his mouth. I know that is a sign of death. I gasp in pain. My heart aches. My eyes fill with tears that stream down my face endlessly. I haven’t stopped crying. I don’t think I ever will. My head pounds from a lack of water. As my legs can no longer hold me.
It's been a couple months since the terrible day.
I head out to do my work. I see myself through the metal on the gas chamber. What have I become? My legs don’t even touch anymore. My face is dark and hollowed out. I am skin and bone. Skin and bone. I look away disgusted by what I see.
I think of Warrick. I was supposed to protect him, yet he was protecting me. I never really realized that I like him. I really like him. Liked. He was my first friend. I drag myself up from the ground and look around me. People stare at dead people’s bodies laid all over the ground. Their hands clasp their mouths. They are new, I think to myself. Very new. They would be used to seeing people die, over and over and over again.
I walk to my barrack to see a guard. A Nazi. I almost puke in my mouth as I see Warrick’s letters scattered all over the floor. I quickly pick them up hoping the Nazi wouldn’t see me. I shove them in my mattress and get into my bed. I lie there for hours. Thoughts scour my mind but one stays. I need to escape. Soon. I am woken by the Nazi slapping me in the face. They have all gotten much more abusive lately. I rush out of my bed and realize my people are dead. Mother and Warrick. If I cry, I die. I can’t think about them right now. I was on gardening duty today. The sky is gray. The clouds show no sign of moving. The sun tries to shine through but I know it isn’t going to.
White, beautiful, cold dust falls gently from the sky. Snow.
It cannot be snowing right now. I am too skinny for cold weather. I don't have any shoes either. I begin to furrow over the cold winter days. Meaning my body is growing more hair and skin than it should, because I am skinny. The snow is no longer gentle. It wraps around me like ice freezing me in. It whips and whistles through my ears. It feels like zero degrees. My body aches. When does it not? The snow piles up on my feet. I need to find shoes. I look through the dead bodies to discover most of their shoes are gone. People are smart. I found a girl. She has shoes. My size. I feel awful taking them off of her but I need to survive. I throw them on my feet. They start to regain warmth. I find a jacket off of another body. I am disgusting. What person would do this? Steal from the dead.
I hide the jacket underneath my clothes as I run to my room. I meant barracks. The Nazi. How could I have forgotten. He is there. What am I supposed to do with my jacket?
“What is that?”
He speaks English.
“A jacket I-”
Bang!
The butt of his gun sends so much pain throughout my jaw. Blood from my mouth has a metallic taste. My eyes squeeze together. Ouch, ouch, ouch. I was on the floor. I don’t remember falling. He comes closer to me and brings his leg back. Pound, pound, pound.
Black. All I see is black. Am I dead? The pain fills my body to the point where I am stiff. Nope, not dead. I try to use my hands to push me up but my body is too heavy. My little bony body is too heavy. I feel weak, something I never want to feel. I am strong, powerful and brave. I can do this. I push myself up as tears leak from my eyes. Don’t cry. I quickly wipe my face, and try to stand up. I hold onto the bed because I am scared I will fall. My legs shake as I put only some of my body weight onto them. I want to scream. How am I supposed to escape? I go outside. I will probably catch a cold. I need to blow off steam. I put on the shoes that the Nazi forgot to take, and walk outside. It’s nighttime. The cold wind nips at my face as I look at the moon. For the first time in a while I feel completely calm. The stars shine bright as I try to connect them into shapes or animals. I must have been out for a long time because the sun is starting to rise. Orange, pink and yellow shine out all across the camp. It is beautiful, the sky. I hear noise from my barrack. I run inside trying to maintain my balance. Pain shoots all through my body as I try not to scream or cry. I go into my bed knowing I will have to wake up in 30 minutes.
I wake up and get to gardening. A group forms near me. Probably around twenty people. They talk for a couple of minutes and then stop. Then they talk again and then stop. I walk up to them curious and ask what they are talking about.
“Who are you? What is your name?
“I’m Adiya, and I am a Jew.”
They welcome me into the group.
“We are trying to make a plan for how to escape. It won’t be easy so you might want to back out now.”
“I’ll stay.”
A couple of weeks later I gather up a whole bunch of information. How big the camp is foot by foot. How many guards and what numbers their barracks are. I don’t get caught. Not once. I miss my mother and Warrick so much, but it won’t help to think about them all the time. It makes me weak and sad. My group and I talk every Tuesday during gardening. We try not to act suspicious and when Nazis ask what we are talking about we always say soil. Nobody notices us. It is weird, personally I would notice a group of twenty people talking only on specific days.
We have a leader in our group. Her name is Gavriella. She reminds me of an older version of myself. She is strong. She knows everything about this camp. She has also been here for 2 years. I believe that with her we can escape. All of us.
It is mid April. Gavriella said April 29 was the perfect day. I’m not sure why but she said it is. She never really tells us everything about her plan. She leaves the rest to imagination. I think she made a bomb. She is smart and a little crazy. Plus we have all the stuff to make a bomb in this camp, which is kind of stupid. I take my sheet and make a bag out of it. I don’t eat for a couple of days to save food. My body doesn’t ache from getting hurt anymore. More from not eating.
Today is the day. I am sore but nothing can stop me. I lift up my sack and throw it over my shoulder. It is 3:00am. My Nazi isn’t in his place. Do they suspect us? I become overtaken with nerves. I am scared. What if they know about us? I peek outside my door. Nazis stand there holding their weapons to their chest. Scared. They are scared. I take the letters from my bed. The ones Warrick wrote to his mother. I shove them into my bag. I will deliver them myself. I promise myself.
Boom!
A bomb. She made a bomb. The Nazis run to figure out what it was. My ears ring with joy. The silence fills with shouting. I can barely hear. All I do was run. I run until I can’t breathe. The wind rushes through my hair. Freedom. I feel free. Finally.
10 Years Later
I sit alone in my apartment. As I close my diary I think back. I gave the letters to Warrick’s mother. She cried in my arms as I tried to comfort her. I look back at the awful memories. I learn from them. They shaped me into the person I am today. I think about Mother and Warrick everyday. I notice how I didn’t write much at the end. Nor did I write about Warrick. He was my first friend and I never really talked about him. I don’t really remember everything, nor do I want to. But now I am still alone and sad in my chair that rocks back and forth.
Sydney Marshall
It's dark, cold, and quiet. It hasn’t been the same since 1939.
I am Adiya Pereira, and I am a Jewish girl, the type of person that all Nazis want to store away and beat. I have brown hair that sweeps to my lower back and bright blue eyes that have seen more than a 14 year old should. My face tells a story that I cannot. My dark under-eye bags show that I stay up at night, my bony body and pale skin explain that I don’t eat much and can’t go outside, my dirty nails show that I am scared because they are bitten down to the core. The outside world scares me. I think about what they do to us. It’s not fair. Nothing is.
Black tape reaches the moldy corners of all the windows blocking out the light that once was shining. My house is dirty, cold, dark and scary. I stare at my water-stained ceiling. The dark oak flooring has a creak to it. The radio doesn’t work but still has a slight hum. It smells like dust and sorrow. My bed is made up of old pillows and quilts made by my mother. Oh my mother, she is dainty. I am the baleboste of the house. I take control because my mother is weak. We are nothing alike, but I love her more than the world. She is scared, sensitive, and not responsible, but she is kind, caring and gentle. I am strong, willpowered, brave and responsible. I take care of everything - the house, bills, food and her. I am so tired - too tired for everything and anything.
My town is dull. There is no life to it. It smells like gasoline and fire. The scent gives me a headache that could last forever. The sand on the dirt road blows rapidly at the touch of wind. The gunshots loud and fast always used to ring in my ears, but not anymore. I’ve gotten used to them. Though I am not allowed out of the house, I go to the store once a month. To get food. I steal when the store clerk isn’t there. I’m not proud of it, but it is what I have to do to survive. I run in the shadows, praying that no one will notice me. No one ever does. Mom never notices the new food. She just eats and she wonders when my father will come back home. I don’t remember my father, nor do I want to. He left us no money, never sent us postcards, and never cared. My heart hurts for my mother. She watches the door at night to see when he will walk in. We know he isn’t dead, but sometimes I wish he was.
Today I have to go shopping very quickly. I put on normal clothes, because anything else would look suspicious. I quietly sneak beneath the shadows, knowing it is past curfew. I open the door with a strong grasp. “Hello?” I say softly.
The owner fiercely pops out from behind the counter. “It is past curfew, you shouldn't be out.”
“I am sorry, but I need food to provide for my family and I am not allowed to go out during the day.”
He gives me an okay nod. I quickly grab milk, cheese, left-over meat, fruits, grease, eggs and vegetables. I pile up the food onto the counter. He says $2. I give him the $2 I collected on the road coming here. My stomach growls in pain.I get the bag from his hands and leave as fast as possible. “Slap.”
I am scared to open my eyes. There stands a Nazi with a stern face.
“Es ist nach Ausgangssperre. Du musst nach Hause gehen, bevor ich dich töte!” It is past curfew, go home before I kill you!
He screams at me. Though I grew up in Germany, I speak English. Run. I think to myself. Run, run, run. My heart thumps with fear. As I sprint, I hear the soldier talk to his friend.
“Schau zu ihr, wo sie lebt, sie ist misstrauisch.” Look to see where she lives, she is suspicious.
I run faster than ever. I open my loud and old doorknob to find my mother. Shaking in fear and sorrow, I wrap my arms around her, stroking her hair. I tell her everything will be okay.
I wake up the next morning, sore and tired. I ran a lot yesterday. I wake my mother up and serve her breakfast, eggs. She eats very fast.
Something breaks the silence. A kick. Our door comes crashing down onto the floor. My eyes open wide as fear sews my mouth shut. My mother screams as I can’t move. The Nazis. They see the stars of David all around our house. Why didn’t we hide them, I think to myself. They are angry. Their hands, hard, hot and strong, pull on my arm. I know I will have a huge bruise tomorrow. Mother screams and screams. They hit her as I watch her suffer. I can’t do anything. I am frozen. Scared and quiet I stand, with the soldier shoving me around to get out the door.
He picks me up because he thinks I will run. I can’t fight against them. They are too strong. My mother kicks and hits, but it doesn’t phase the Nazis. They take us to a carriage as the horses stare at me. The Nazi holding me throws me into the back of the carriage which holds more Nazis. Mother then is thrown in. She cries and screams as I try my best to comfort her. A day later we arrive. A Nazi picks me up harshly as I read the sign. Dachau. This isn’t real, I think to myself. Wake up, wake up, wake up. I pinch myself, and I still stay in the present.
The camp is dull and lifeless. There are at least 20 small buildings all aligned into a circle. In the middle of the circle there is a gas chamber. It is big enough to fit sixty of me. It is metal and rusty. The ground in the camp is grass and dirt. I don’t have any shoes. Dirt covers my feet as rocks bang into them. It hurts badly. I don’t wince once. I feel sick. I am thrown into a cabin separated from my mother. In the back of my head, I know she will die soon.
In my cabin there is a boy. I thought boys and girls were separated. Weird. He has dirty blonde hair that has slight curls in it. He has green eyes with black and blue bruises that surround them. He is muscular and sunburnt. As I stare at him I realize he is looking back. I quickly look away and I think about trying to find my mother.
“Hello. I can tell you are new, I’m Warrick. What’s your name?”
“Oh hello, my name is Adiya. Do you know if we can walk around? I am trying to find-”
“No, we can't walk around. We can’t do anything.”
I look at him with an annoyed glance because he didn’t let me finish my sentence. That was rude and uncalled for. He stares at me with his sympathetic eyes. I want to eat. I never had breakfast the morning before I came here. If I am being honest I think this is a dream. I haven’t really thought it through yet. A fourteen year old girl separated from her mother who is going to die. We are all going to die. I start to cry. I don’t cry, I never cry. Warrick comes over to me and pats my back. I don’t know whether to trust him yet or not. I need to stop crying. I was strong and smart. I could find a way out. I have to.
“Why did they let a girl be in the same barracks as a boy?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe it is a mistake.”
Loud knocks take the silence. Someone slides striped clothes through a little door within the door. I slide on the clothes and Warrick looks away. This is my biggest nightmare, coming true. I am so tired, so tired.
“Aufwachen!”
I sit up from the floor. Warrick is scared. I haven’t seen him scared yet. He is biting his nails and crying. He is crying. I have never seen a boy cry before. He held a letter in his hand. I wonder what it is. I never receive letters.
“Are you okay?” I ask in a gentle voice.
“Yes, fine. I write a bunch of letters to my mom and hide them so one day I can give them to her when I am out. If I ever escape.”
Now I am looking at him with sympathetic eyes. I pat him on the back as I stroke his hair, the way I used to stroke my mother’s. Now I needed to protect Warrick, since I didn’t have my mother anymore.
It has been a couple of days. Me and Warrick talk about everything and anything. We have become pretty good friends.
I catch a glimpse of my mother and she is beaten. Badly.
Warrick’s hands shake me gently as I try to open my eyes. Mornings are hard when you only eat bread and drink water. I am sore, really sore. Days have gotten longer and time has stretched long beyond its limit. We have a schedule. Wake up at 5:00 A.M. and get ready for labor. We grow food, make food, provide for everyone (including the Nazis), then we get a slice of bread at 12:00pm, and then more work for the rest of the day till 8, then it's time for bed. Today's work was hard. It was dry. Thank god it is shower day. I worked on planting from 7-12. Lunchtime. I sat next to no one. I didn’t look at anyone, nor did I want to. I shove a corner of the bread into my mouth. I chew it slowly, very slowly.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”
That is mother, I know her scream. I run up from my seat and try to find her. Wow. She is bone skinny and bruised every inch of her body. I become frozen as Warrick meets me at my side.
“Is that your Mother?” he asks, but he knows it's her. I gently nod my head not knowing what to do. I can’t breathe. I am shaking as fear takes over my body. What is she doing? Why? A Nazi catches her. I jump forward without thinking. Warrick pulls my back with a strong tug that hurts my shoulder.
“Mother!” I yell.
“Mother!!”
Louder that time. Warrick puts his hand over my mouth. He is shaking. I know what will happen to her, and there is no way I can stop it. I fall down to my knees banging them to the ground as a rock splits my knee open with a gash. Warrick’s hands cover my knees as I cry. Tears drip uncontrollably down my face. I try to catch my breath but I can’t. Mother will die, and there is no way of stopping it. I go back to my barrack with puffy eyes and shivering lips. Warrick says he will cover my work for me today. I lie on my floor on my stomach with my face pushed to the ground. We aren't allowed to be inside during the day. But no one would know. All the Nazis stay by the gas chamber in case someone tries to kill themself. I think about it, but I’d rather escape and die trying rather than die because I gave up. I step out into the night towards 7. I come out to do my work.
I look ahead of me and every single person from the camp is in a circle wrapped around the gas chamber. In the back of my head I know who it is. Mother. She is going into the chamber. I rush up to the circle pushing my way through. The Nazis have her arms as her feet try to kick them.
“Adiya, I will love you forever, thank you-”
Pssshhhh
The gas chamber opens as she is pushed through the doors. I throw up next to me. This can’t be happening. I can’t cry. I can’t cry. I can’t cry. Nazis will figure out I’m Adiya and they will kill me. Warrick finds me. He holds my hand.
Bang, Bang, Bang!
My mother bangs on the walls of the chamber. Tears roll down my face. Salty and fast. Warrick hugs me.
Ahhhhh!
My throat burns. I am shaking in fear. My face is red and burning. My veins from my neck rise. That was me. I just screamed. Nazis look my way as Warrick puts his hands up.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” Warrick says, trembling with fear.
They push him to the group and start to kick. Hard. Really hard. He is going to die. Warrick is going to die. Why did he stand up for me? No. No. No. I lost two people on the same day. I start to cry. His face. His beautiful face was now bruised. His hair, his beautiful hair is now covered in dirt. His lifeless body is kicked over and over and over again.
“Adiya-”
He coughs, and coughs. Blood from his throat pours out of his mouth. I know that is a sign of death. I gasp in pain. My heart aches. My eyes fill with tears that stream down my face endlessly. I haven’t stopped crying. I don’t think I ever will. My head pounds from a lack of water. As my legs can no longer hold me.
It's been a couple months since the terrible day.
I head out to do my work. I see myself through the metal on the gas chamber. What have I become? My legs don’t even touch anymore. My face is dark and hollowed out. I am skin and bone. Skin and bone. I look away disgusted by what I see.
I think of Warrick. I was supposed to protect him, yet he was protecting me. I never really realized that I like him. I really like him. Liked. He was my first friend. I drag myself up from the ground and look around me. People stare at dead people’s bodies laid all over the ground. Their hands clasp their mouths. They are new, I think to myself. Very new. They would be used to seeing people die, over and over and over again.
I walk to my barrack to see a guard. A Nazi. I almost puke in my mouth as I see Warrick’s letters scattered all over the floor. I quickly pick them up hoping the Nazi wouldn’t see me. I shove them in my mattress and get into my bed. I lie there for hours. Thoughts scour my mind but one stays. I need to escape. Soon. I am woken by the Nazi slapping me in the face. They have all gotten much more abusive lately. I rush out of my bed and realize my people are dead. Mother and Warrick. If I cry, I die. I can’t think about them right now. I was on gardening duty today. The sky is gray. The clouds show no sign of moving. The sun tries to shine through but I know it isn’t going to.
White, beautiful, cold dust falls gently from the sky. Snow.
It cannot be snowing right now. I am too skinny for cold weather. I don't have any shoes either. I begin to furrow over the cold winter days. Meaning my body is growing more hair and skin than it should, because I am skinny. The snow is no longer gentle. It wraps around me like ice freezing me in. It whips and whistles through my ears. It feels like zero degrees. My body aches. When does it not? The snow piles up on my feet. I need to find shoes. I look through the dead bodies to discover most of their shoes are gone. People are smart. I found a girl. She has shoes. My size. I feel awful taking them off of her but I need to survive. I throw them on my feet. They start to regain warmth. I find a jacket off of another body. I am disgusting. What person would do this? Steal from the dead.
I hide the jacket underneath my clothes as I run to my room. I meant barracks. The Nazi. How could I have forgotten. He is there. What am I supposed to do with my jacket?
“What is that?”
He speaks English.
“A jacket I-”
Bang!
The butt of his gun sends so much pain throughout my jaw. Blood from my mouth has a metallic taste. My eyes squeeze together. Ouch, ouch, ouch. I was on the floor. I don’t remember falling. He comes closer to me and brings his leg back. Pound, pound, pound.
Black. All I see is black. Am I dead? The pain fills my body to the point where I am stiff. Nope, not dead. I try to use my hands to push me up but my body is too heavy. My little bony body is too heavy. I feel weak, something I never want to feel. I am strong, powerful and brave. I can do this. I push myself up as tears leak from my eyes. Don’t cry. I quickly wipe my face, and try to stand up. I hold onto the bed because I am scared I will fall. My legs shake as I put only some of my body weight onto them. I want to scream. How am I supposed to escape? I go outside. I will probably catch a cold. I need to blow off steam. I put on the shoes that the Nazi forgot to take, and walk outside. It’s nighttime. The cold wind nips at my face as I look at the moon. For the first time in a while I feel completely calm. The stars shine bright as I try to connect them into shapes or animals. I must have been out for a long time because the sun is starting to rise. Orange, pink and yellow shine out all across the camp. It is beautiful, the sky. I hear noise from my barrack. I run inside trying to maintain my balance. Pain shoots all through my body as I try not to scream or cry. I go into my bed knowing I will have to wake up in 30 minutes.
I wake up and get to gardening. A group forms near me. Probably around twenty people. They talk for a couple of minutes and then stop. Then they talk again and then stop. I walk up to them curious and ask what they are talking about.
“Who are you? What is your name?
“I’m Adiya, and I am a Jew.”
They welcome me into the group.
“We are trying to make a plan for how to escape. It won’t be easy so you might want to back out now.”
“I’ll stay.”
A couple of weeks later I gather up a whole bunch of information. How big the camp is foot by foot. How many guards and what numbers their barracks are. I don’t get caught. Not once. I miss my mother and Warrick so much, but it won’t help to think about them all the time. It makes me weak and sad. My group and I talk every Tuesday during gardening. We try not to act suspicious and when Nazis ask what we are talking about we always say soil. Nobody notices us. It is weird, personally I would notice a group of twenty people talking only on specific days.
We have a leader in our group. Her name is Gavriella. She reminds me of an older version of myself. She is strong. She knows everything about this camp. She has also been here for 2 years. I believe that with her we can escape. All of us.
It is mid April. Gavriella said April 29 was the perfect day. I’m not sure why but she said it is. She never really tells us everything about her plan. She leaves the rest to imagination. I think she made a bomb. She is smart and a little crazy. Plus we have all the stuff to make a bomb in this camp, which is kind of stupid. I take my sheet and make a bag out of it. I don’t eat for a couple of days to save food. My body doesn’t ache from getting hurt anymore. More from not eating.
Today is the day. I am sore but nothing can stop me. I lift up my sack and throw it over my shoulder. It is 3:00am. My Nazi isn’t in his place. Do they suspect us? I become overtaken with nerves. I am scared. What if they know about us? I peek outside my door. Nazis stand there holding their weapons to their chest. Scared. They are scared. I take the letters from my bed. The ones Warrick wrote to his mother. I shove them into my bag. I will deliver them myself. I promise myself.
Boom!
A bomb. She made a bomb. The Nazis run to figure out what it was. My ears ring with joy. The silence fills with shouting. I can barely hear. All I do was run. I run until I can’t breathe. The wind rushes through my hair. Freedom. I feel free. Finally.
10 Years Later
I sit alone in my apartment. As I close my diary I think back. I gave the letters to Warrick’s mother. She cried in my arms as I tried to comfort her. I look back at the awful memories. I learn from them. They shaped me into the person I am today. I think about Mother and Warrick everyday. I notice how I didn’t write much at the end. Nor did I write about Warrick. He was my first friend and I never really talked about him. I don’t really remember everything, nor do I want to. But now I am still alone and sad in my chair that rocks back and forth.