Broken Wings

Horrible Scenes

The moon was shining brightly, a dish of milk in a bed of stars. Its light reflected on the street, giving it an eerie glow.

"We don't have much time until curfew," Myna said, frowning. Her strides matched those of her friend, their feet strolling in unison.

"I know. Let's go back." Else sighed, staring longingly at the clear, dark sky. It invited her to a world of dreams, but she was not ready to enter it yet.

It started with a Nazi, as all of Else's problems nowadays seemed to. He strutted out of a highly-regarded German store, his black boots slapping the cobblestone. Else stopped in her tracks, staring at him wearily. There was something about this Nazi, something intangible, that seemed a little off. Always something.

"Come on, Else, let's go," Myna whispered, her feet dancing around impatiently. The black boots sauntered away in the other direction, approaching a straggler. Or rather, a family of stragglers. The Nazi saw them as prey.

They were Jewish.

It was past their curfew.

The Nazi was not pleased with this.

There were five members in the family of stragglers, a mother with gleaming black hair, which shone brightly in the light of the moon. A father, whose eyes burned with fear. And of course, the children. A boy and a girl, with pale scrawny faces that hadn't seen the sun for months. And then the baby, a silent creature in a pile of blankets.

Sympathy surged through Else's body. She knew it wasn't allowed; she knew she wasn't supposed to feel sympathy for these people. She knew she wasn't supposed to be witnessing this now. But hadn't she already done so many things she wasn't supposed to do?

What made this any different?

The Nazi's shadow hovered over the family, strangling their throats with fear. Shouts rang out in the girls' ears, and down the street. They could no longer ignore it.

And then the gun came out.

He slipped it out with ease, with such a casual air it made Else want to cringe. The sounds escaped, blood flooding to her ears. And then the screams, crying out to the world to save them. The mother crouched to the ground, weeping, cradling the pale body of the baby. Blood circled at its mouth, beaten half to death. Her arm bled onto the blankets, staining it with loss.

Myna turned away, tears stuck to her face, but Else remained still, the horrors not hitting her yet.

More screams escaped, screams of pain. The children were knocked to the ground, the butt of his gun punching their stomachs. The little girl looked up from the cobblestone, gazing into Else's eyes.

It stabbed her right through the heart.

Myna noticed the look of pain in her friend's eyes.

"We should go." Her voice croaked, her words barely heard. Not in the mind of a troubled girl.

Her mind drifted into a cloud of memories, memories of pain. She saw Maximilian, his arms bleeding from the cuts of the glass, pain in his eyes. She saw him staring off into the distance, wondering what would become of him. What would become of his people? She saw the whip marks curving against his back, the sobs held back in his throat as the words tried to escape his mouth. She saw him weak and afraid, standing in front of his own brother, in front of his brother's gun. She saw his wings, torn to pieces, torn apart by the people of the world.

"Th-they killed them. They're killing them," she stuttered, tears coming to her eyes. Myna squeezed her arm, pulling her away from the scene. She gave one glance back at the family, their faces filled with hunger. Hunger for kindness, for belonging.

❀❀❀

"Mama, they were hurting them. They were killing them. We weren't supposed to see it. But we did," Else stumbled over her words from the couch, her head buried in a bed of blankets.

"What?"

"They were beating a family of Jews. Hidden in the alley." The sobs erupted from her throat. Mama turned around from the pot of stew, her eyes studying her daughter.

"I'm sorry." Those were the only words spoken, the rest spoken in actions. Mama wrapped her arm around her daughter, wiping the tears on her apron. They had all seen too much. More than their eyes could handle. Else rested her head on her mother's shoulder, feeling the soft fabric itching against her skin. She wanted it to all just disappear. All the memories, all the hurt.

"I'm going to rest in my room," Else said, her feet creeping up the stairs. But they did not reach her room.

They reached Max's instead.

Her fingers laced the book, comfort surging through her heart. The words of Maximilian filled her mind, his memories somehow soothing her own. The next few pages were more light-hearted, filled with joyful memories of his childhood, the Jewish and Christian one.

The curve on her face was so wide, her teeth glistening in the light of the day. A wrapped strudel rested in her hand, smiling up at her as she waited to consume it. Mama handed her a blank canvas, one for her to fill with color. Little did she know that it wouldn't be filled with color, rather shades of gray and black. "From your father and me," she said, the smile spreading to her face too. And then there was me, waiting in line behind Mama. And what did I give her? A hug. It's all I could afford, for I hadn't been paid my first salary yet. Regret had filled my heart previously, but for some reason, now it has disappeared. A hug felt like enough, like a good enough present then. And I think Else knew that.

Else smiled, the tears disappearing at the sight of her name. Maximilian had written about her. The thought rejoiced in her mind. Her fingers gracefully flipped the page, soaking in the words. She longed to continue reading, to read more of her brother's words.

But they had to be saved for another night.

The smile remained as she closed the cover, returning it to its bed under the pillow. It remained with her in her dreams, written on her heart.