Tribute to: The boy in the striped pyjamas.
The soft click of the door shutting startled me out of my panicked thoughts. "don't mess this up, Maria." Mr Baer's words echoed in the back of my mind. But that was exactly what i planned on doing. My thoughts drifted, as i attempted to recall where i had slipped up. Eventually, after a thorough search of my mind, i satisfactory settled on the fact that he was just anxious; its not every day the Fury visit, and expect decent catering. Unsurprisingly, the task was left to me, and had been ever since Pavel, the former cook, perished. I fought back the wave of anger towards those responsible for his death, which only reminded me of what i truthfully thought of them; what i had tried, so desperately to supress, until now. Rage bubbled through me, as i listened to the fading footsteps of the group as they progressed down the hallway, and congregated in the dining room. i was in disbelief, that such a person was still welcome in this household after...Bruno.
Several months after Bruno disappeared; i had left Auschwitz with Mrs Baer and Gretel, only to return a year later, after Mr Baer made a half-hearted attempt to patch up his relationship with his wife. Which braught me back here, trapped between two parents, quarrelling and accusing each other of issues out of their control. Blaming each other for Bruno's disappearance; for bringing children to a place as awful as this in the first place. But what they had failed to recognise, i picked up. Bruno was part of the Hitler Youth; many elements of that drilled into him from the moment he began to walk and talk. However, he was never told what was going on, and curiosity is what got the poor boy...killed. And that is what changed my mind. No matter how many good deeds this family had done for me, they would forever be in debt to Bruno.
I decided the menu for tonight would be sauerkraut soup, something my mother used to make for me, when i was a child. I placed all the compulsory ingredients on the bench, before realising i had missed the meat. i reached into the cupboard, drawing the canned mutton, when my hand brushed against a small cylindrical container, knocking it over. Inquisitively, i took out the tiny bottle, and peered down at the almost illegible writing. 'Cyanide pills'. What on earth would Mr Baer need- i cut myself off, as i realised this would be a finer plan than the previous one.
After an hour of hard labour, i wiped away the steam and sweat on my forehead, that went into the making of the soup, before completing the final step. As i twisted the cap, pea sized capsules spilt, bouncing and skidding, over the bench and floor, whilst i stood, entranced by the whole concept. Time seemed to slow as my eyes trailed one of the many little coloured balls of death, as it merrily hopped across the bench top, and landed in the pot of soup with a soft splat. I blinked, breaking the spell, and collected as many tiny tablets as possible, crushing them under a knife before pouring the lethal powder into the soup. Content with my creation, i slipped oven mitts over my dirty hands, knowing that soon this dishonesty would leave blood on them.
I pushed the thought to the back of my mind and walked into the dining room where all eyes fell on me. I set the pot down on the table, trying my best to disregard the guilt building inside of me. 'Whatever Mr Baer did for you, it is all in the past. He cannot be forgiven for what he did to Bruno. He cannot be forgiven for tearing his own bloodline apart.', i told myself, as everyone began to eat. I withheld from smirking when Hitler's' face wrinkled in disgust at the acidic taste of the soup.
"What is this?" he growled at me, throwing his dish in rage, across the room.
"Sauerkraut. Sauerkraut soup" i replied, this time, unable to resist the smile playing on my lips. i began to count down the seconds before the poison should take effect. 30, 29, 28...15, 14...7, 6, 5...2, 1..
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion; everyone in this room should be dead. I prepared myself to escape the moment someone figured out the truth. The moment never came; but instead three loud thuds. No matter how hard i tried to peel my eyes away from what layed before me, i couldn't. One minute they sat, looking severely unimpressed by the soup, the next, they were lying on the ground, looking...dead.
I staggered backwards as reality caught up with me. 'I just killed those people..i just'- i tore myself away from the gut-wrenching scene, and stumbled blindly into the kitchen, immediately running for the sink. Time dragged on as i scrubbed my hands until they bruised, trying to remove the non-existent blood of those people whom i just murdered. 'I just killed those people...'. The phrase cycled through my head, as tears sprung to my eyes, and my mouth involuntarily curved up into a smile. Slowly I picked up a metal spoon, as cold as my cruel heart, and dipped it into the pot, drawing out a mouthful of the deadly liquid. I laughed bitterly as i threw my head back and drowned the soup. All this exposure to cold-blooded murder was driving me quite insane..
