As the Allied forces started entering the German occupied states, the liberation of the concentration camps had begun. Starting with the liberation of concentration camps in the German occupied Poland, Majdanek was the first of them to be saved from Nazi grasp by the Soviets in July 1944. The Soviets then liberated Belzec, Sobibor and Treblinka camps in the months that followed in the year of 1944.
As the Nazis retreated back, most of the evidence inside the camps were dismantled and burnt down. Most of these camps had been abandoned leaving the diseased and the dying survivors behind while the rest were either taken on a death march towards Auschwitz-Birkenau camp or mass killed by gassing, inside the hidden chambers of the camp.
However, the horrors and the reality of these camps remained out of the public sights. Nobody was made aware of these 'rehabilitation' centres which had become human killing centres.
(Edith)
It was late afternoon in a cold late December day in the year 1944. I laid flat on my stomach on the floor with my legs absentmindedly swinging in the air. My eyes were lightly shut while my chin rested on my crossed arms. Arno's head laid softly on my back while his body was at a right angle to mine. He was reading an old dusty book that he had happened to come across while dusting the attic although he hardly managed to read the faded words with the ever so little sunlight that fell in through all those black cloth and papers that had covered the room. Hans was pacing here and there pondering about something. Something would strike his mind from time to time and he would scribble it down on the attic wall with a little piece of coal that he had borrowed from Herr Braun. His seriousness was comical but admirable.
A tedious monotone surrounded us.
The attic was small with the ceiling high enough for us to stand with our necks crouched a little. Dust had coated the little room. Colour was slightly peeling from the walls while a few sun rays managed to prick their ways in through the tiny holes of the wooden ceiling. There was an enormous carved wooden cupboard that was pushed to a corner to hide the rotting hole in the wall behind it. Giant spider webs covered the corners of the ceiling and made its way around the cupboard. The room had come in use only after the three of us had come to the Brauns'' for a safe place. Ever since, the old storage room had become our very own little world. The attic gave off a living essence now with blankets spread lazily on the floor, two or three used bowls lazily pushed across the floor which Frau Braun had forgotten to take from the night before and a mess of thoughts scribbled across the stretch of peeling walls.
Laziness crawled over to my eyes threatening to shut them down when Arno's light voice reached me. I let my eyes open a little and gazed at Arno from the corner of my eyes.
"Edith, I know it is very selfish of me but I am glad that you are here with me. Thank you for helping me face this."
A chuckle vibrated through my laid stomach to his head as I replied with an "Uh huh." That satisfied him making him return back to his book with a smile on his face.
It had become a part of his regular schedule to mention that to me. Perhaps, that somehow made him feel content every single day. I let my eyes drop again.
I could hear Hans murmuring something to himself in a distance.
"Do you regret it?" My eyes flared open yet again as I gazed back at him.
"Idiot." I muttered with a slight chuckle as I continued with a reassurance, "Not a single day."
I knew how much he hated feeling weak in front of me. It bothered him every single day to know that he was in despair himself and that he couldn't man up to protect me. It haunted him to not be able to do anything about it and drag me into his situation. Nevertheless, he knew I was in it on my own and I wanted him to know that I was not regretting a single part of my decision. He was just as desperate as the others but he was definitely not weak. And, I was there to remind him of that. I may have regretted the situation but I was glad to face it alongside him.
YOU ARE READING
Chasing Colours
Historical Fiction"Mein Kampf. My struggle. It is different for everyone, is it not? I just didn't want to see the world from someone else's point of view. I have my own story, so do you and so does everyone. These white pages are for me to write my story" --- x...