I'll Meet You At Midnight

Chapter One

I sat on the bench, staring out the window. The remaining rays of light reflected color in the sky. My cracked and dry lips spread into a smile. Abraham would have loved to be here to see this.

I peered down at my hands. The skin was pale, wrinkled, and translucent. I could see my veins making their way up my arm looking purple and blue. The fingernails were chipped, thin, and brittle.

Sobbing sounded out through the hallway and soon a girl came into sight. She had long blonde hair and pale skin. I couldn't see her eyes, for her hands were balled into fists and covering her face. She had on a knee length plaide, black and blue skirt and a white shirt. Her shoes were black and I saw white socks peeking out of them.

I caught her arm as she went by and she stopped. Her hands fell from her face. Her eyes were big and bluer than the sky, they twinkled like stars. Tears ran from them and down her milky cheeks.

"Hello there, sweetheart," I whispered. "Are you okay?" She shook her head and bit her lip as she sobbed. "Well, whats wrong?" I patted the spot beside me and she sat down on the bench. I put my arm around my shoulder and frowned down at her.

Then I saw the bruise peeking out from her shirt sleeve. It was finger shapped and there seemed to be more than one. "Did someone hurt you?" She nodded. The girl couldn't have been older than fifteen, she was much too young to go through something like this. "Was it a boy friend?" Her shoulders stiffened and she sniffled before straitening.

"Kind of," she whispered. "It's a friend that's a guy . . . but he's not my boyfriend." I looked at her to continue. "His name is Kaden. And we've been best friends for ten years. But recently . . . h-he's been using me as his personal punching bag and -" She cut herself off and frowned down at her hands. "I just ran. He had grabbed my arm and pulled back his fist and I ran like a coward."

"You're not a coward," I said. "He is."

I sighed. "Whats your name?"

"Anna."

"That's a very beautiful name. It was the name of my little sister."

"Was? Did she . . . die?" I nodded sadly. "H-how?"

"She was tortured to death in a concentration camp." Her eyes wide and the tears seemed to lessen. Now she had a look of interest in them.

"Were taken there, also?" Again, I nodded sadly. She wiped the remaining tears off and sniffled.

"Would you care to hear the story Anna?" After a minute, she whispered yes. I was launched into the story I'd never told.

****

It was grey.

Thats the only way I know how to explain it; grey, empty, bleak, horrid. A few other words come to mind, much more descriptive than "grey" but really, that's enough. Their faces have become sunken with disease or hunger, their eyes give an expresion that's somewhere around hopeless and defeated, and their bodies . . . oh God their bodies. I can see the traces of the scars that peak out from their outfits, the fingernails that have broken off and haven't grown back. Their bodies, which have taken so much abuse that it seems impossible for them to still be living.

It was all just . . . grey.

Such a bleak and empty kind of grey, nothing close to silver. A darker shade, more near black. Its almost a scary shade, one that seems to rip right through my chest, tear me apart, and laugh at my pain as I lay bleeding on the floor.

It's that kind of grey.

Once I get out of here, I don't think I can ever look at the color again.