It is not about survival

No way home

In the second nazi attack seize, two years after my brothers death, they took my father and my uncle. Mama was horrified, but at least he actually made out of the ghetto alive, now he probably wished that he did die, my brother was lucky. I lost everything. It was just me, mom, my sister, and my friend I had left. When they came the third time, I was only 16. They got my sister first, she and my friend went together. I was placed with my mother. On the train, you could see no light, we were practically swimming in waste and dead human decay. I could not find my mother, I knew she was there. If we spoke or even coughed, a bullet would be shot through the thing metal, hitting whoever it chose. One day it happened, a woman was shot by a blind bullet. I thought it was my mom, the entire way. The most entertaining thing was to count seconds, those seconds turned into days. I counted 4, but it felt like nineteen years. When we arrived,we were stripped and put in a line. I saw her, I saw my mother, standing right in front of me, she should have died. I did not see what was happening in front of me but I heard thuds and gunshots and screams. When I got close enough, I noticed a hole, people were thrown in a shot. I was not going to live even though they were letting some past. It was my mothers turn. My mother was an attractive woman, she looked half her age. They poked at her bullet scar, she was going to die, they found an imperfection, the imperfection I caused. I wanted to grab her and run away with her, but that would kill the entire line. She was pushed in, they let her suffer a bit, and then shot her in the stomach she she could suffer some more. I was going to jump in, I knew I was better off dead, they stopped me, kicked me, and let me past. When I entered, it looked like a death yard. Half alive zombies limping around. I was ousted into a cement room. They got a knife and sliced hair and chunks of skin off my head. I was whacked into a dark corridor, filled with dead bodies and half dead ones. There were bunks, but I would not be sleeping. A woman kept telling me not to eat the soup, that is what we were going to eat. I didn't eat it,  nothing was wrong with it, I just chose not to. All of a sudden a tub of boiling soup was poured on me, causing instant blisters . "Eat the soup"