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I wish I could turn back time to when everything was alright. I wish I could forget all the suffering and humiliation I've been forced to endure. But, a time machine isn't invented yet, and I'm not a magician. What I've witnessed cannot be unseen, no matter how hard I try. These images will haunt me for the rest of my life.

I remember when the Second World War started on September 3rd, 1939. I will never forget that date. Living as a Jewish boy in Leningrad was hard. It seemed as if all the friends I had once talked to freely were crows, refusing to accept a dove into their group. I could no longer trust the people I was fond of. Civilians in the street would sneer at us and make fun of us for being ourselves.

I couldn't quite understand what the big deal was. Alas, I was only nine when the war started. My little sister and I were half-Jewish children. Our father was a large train of a man, with dark hair and eyes. He was the farthest from being a Jewish person that I'd ever seen. He grew up Christian, but still allowed mother to raise Anzhelika and I as Jews. I don't regret being the same as mother. Not only were we both Jewish, but I inherited her apple-green eyes and pale blonde hair. My little sister was also blonde, but received my father's deep chocolate gaze.

Anzhelika began to come home crying. She couldn't understand why she was suddenly so hated by everyone.

"It's not fair, Vlad!" Lisbeth won't talk to me anymore!" became a daily exclamation. Elizabeth was Anzhelika's best friend, but she refused to be near my sister once the war began.

For two years, we lived lives full of confusion and hatred. The Soviet Union didn't like us, but we weren't being tortured or killed. Fear was a heavy blanket, suffocating every Jew in the city. Our hearts were filled with lead and weighed one thousand tonnes. Once Germany broke it's pact with Russia on June 22nd, 1941, our lives changed forever. The Soviet Union was under great stress, and Jews were being murdered all over our country. The last time I saw my best friend was the day my life was thrown into complete havoc.

"Rumours are flying, Vlad. I'm telling you the truth! The Germans are going to invade this city!" Afanasy hissed in my ear during class. Afanasy Feigenbaum was my age, eleven, and also my best friend. He was a tall, handsome boy. Every girl had wanted him before the war started. Unfortunately, he was a Jew. No one wanted a Jew after the hatred began to settle in their bones.

"You're wrong, buddy. Father says that no one will hurt us." I argued.

"You don't know that, Vlad! When we're all dead, I'll say I told you so from the grave!" he joked. I didn't get a chance to answer him. There was no time. Gunshots began blaring outside of the school, and my peers began screaming while running for cover.

"Class! Do not panic! Evacuate in a calm manner!" our teacher yelled. Her name escapes me now, but I can still see her grey hair and eyes.

"Vlad! Stick close!" Afanasy ordered. We both disappeared from the building, rushing towards our homes.

"We have to part ways now, Vlad. I'll see you again, hey? Don't worry!" he said with a smile as we came to a crossroads. We stopped momentarily to high-five before we turned opposite ways and took off. I only wish now that we had properly said goodbye, as I'd never see him again.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I reached my house. Panting, I threw open the door to my father's face. It was painted with guilt. Before I could ask what was wrong, he pushed past me without a word. When I looked into my residence, I noticed mother and Anzhelika crying.

"We have to go, mother. Soldiers have invaded Leningrad. We have to escape!" I urged. Mother shook her head, covering her mouth in an attempt to hide her sobs. Something must've happened between her and father, but finding out their argument was not my priority. My priority was to get my mother and little sister to safety.