Stars on Our Hearts

4

I lay in bed, staring through the darkness up at the bleak, dreary ceiling. Orange moonlight shone through my tiny bedroom window, barely casting enough light around my room to see.
It's been hours since Pa had gone, yet I still felt the pain like it had been minutes ago. Earlier, just after Pa had left, Ma sat bleary eyed on the couch, blank and unmoving, as she stared out at the rain. After that, I had to fight to keep my mother indoors as she struggled to run outside after my father, even though he was long gone. She had screamed and screamed, begging that she had to say goodbye to him one last time. I struggled to keep her from running out into the pouring rain and disturbing the neighbors.

I feel even more tears form in the back of my eyes, and I fight to keep them back. Using my, lately, go-to comfort method, I woefully relive past memories. My friends, when most of them were around, even still alive. My mother, brushing brittle and dirt out of my hair as she scolds me for horse-playing in the mud. Father, checking under the bed with me late at night for beasts.

My Father. My wistful smile turns into a scowl, and I shift in bed, turning on my side. My feelings turn dark, churning black with anger and grief. My breathing becomes heavy, and the air around me is suffocating. Those friends that were snatched away, the ones I cherished so dearly, are probably all dead. Fuming in silence, a twister of hate and grief and rage, my mind turns to the Nazis. You did this! You killed my friends, my neighbors. Now you've taken my father!

BOOM!
All of a sudden, almost like a response from Hitler himself, a loud thunder, like lightning striking right outside my house, shatters the earth. I'm nearly thrown from my bed, awakened from my session of drowsy anger. I sit up sharply, slowly recovering from the shock. I hear faint screaming, from inside and outside the house.
"Mother?!"  I cry out.
BOOM!
Another crack of thunder sounds out, seemingly shaking the whole city. A roaring beast, I hear the bomb sirens blaring too late as the whole town begins to wail. The shock shoves me to the floor, and a flash of light illuminates the room.
-
"Edu."
I sigh, setting the dishes in the sink in a show of exasperation.
"Yes?" My father looks into my eyes, a serious look in his dark eyes so focused I quickly shut my mouth. "Some nights, there will be loud rumbles and flashes of light,"
I roll my eyes. "Like the thunder and lightning, Father?" He reaches over and grips my shoulders, and a glint of anxiety flashes in his eyes. "Worse. More deadly than any storm you've been in. These explosions can flatten this house in seconds, killing you, your mother, and myself instantly, along with our neighbors and many others." I swallow.
"Bombs." I whisper to myself. Father nods solemnly.
"They're lethal. And when these occur, you grab your mother and hide under a bed and pray until it passes. Understood?"
I nod. "I'm thirteen, Father. I can handle it."
"Good."
-
"Air strikes," I breath, recalling the conversation with my father. I stand up, fresh terror and panic falling over me. My knees are wobbly and weak. I stumble towards Mother's room, when another explosion farther away forces me to hold the walls for support. Staggering into Ma's room, I find her crouched down on the bed, wide eyed and shrieking as she clutches one of Father's chains.

"Ma!" I yell over the chaos. "We have to get under the bed!" She doesn't seem to hear me. When she doesn't comply, I reach over and yank my mother from off the bed. As I plead with her to shuffle under the bed, yet another explosion goes off, but not as great. She finally slides under Father's bed, and I gladly follow her.
BOOM!

Another crack leaves the house trembling, and in the sickly orange glow of the streetlight I witness a stream of dust fall from a crack in the ceiling. I clutch my mother's hand as if I'm a small boy again, praying we'll see the morning sun. My mother is sobbing, pleading softly under her breath for the same reasons as mine. Our house shakes a few times more, and I hear the shattering of glass downstairs. The whole ordeal is agony, and I wonder if I can even hold it together. Please, let us make it out alive. Let us make it out of this alive! A single thought, pounding and pounding in my head.
-
All night, the bombing continued. Amazingly, most of the bombs we heard were outside the city, barely harming anyone and causing few damage.
But a part of us was not so lucky. Buildings had been flattened like dirt, like Father had described, bricks scattered into the street as I paced towards Sonya's house the following morning. I had to see if she was okay, or even alive. Some houses, or what was left of them, had injured people sitting in front of them as they waited for assistance. But even then, laying wounded, homeless, and ruined, they still manage to look down at me the moment they see my star. I hurry past them, quick to avoid eye contact.