Scapegoat

Chapter 1 - "Invading Nazis"

I woke up with a startle, my hands were sweating, my eyes were wet and puffy, everything felt wrong. Panting, I peered over to the window, where the repeatable sounds of shouts and violence could be heard. Pursing my lips, I uncovered myself and wobbled my way over. Beams of sunlight directed towards my eyes, making it harder to see. Distinctive figures could be made out from my imperfect view, revealing a horde of Germans (or so I thought) being brutally pummeled onto the ground by men wearing uniforms with an unfamiliar emblem attached to their arm. 

I quirked my brow out of curiosity, hassles like these were very rare, especially in my town. I've never seen these men with uniforms in my entire life, and that's coming from me, a citizen who knows their way around these streets. Fear quickly intrigued me.

Panicked, I hurried my way to the closet, grabbing my father's old coat as well as his hunting knife. I called out to my family, who should've been downstairs fixing up the stew that has been created every other week. My mindset quickly calmed when the faint reply of my mother drowned in my ears, causing my aching muscles to relax. 

Slowly, I placed the hunting knife back under the rotting plank which I kept most of my dear possessions, and hammered it closed. I decided to continue wearing the coat, as it was the most dear thing my father has passed down to me. Now, my family consists of my mother, my sister, and myself. My father had died weeks before I turned 11. Soon after that, my aunt, who also was a resident of this household, passed away from a fever. 

Without the help of my father, our savings quickly drained throughout that year, making me eligible to become the man of the house. When I turned 12, I was rarely home. Polishing shoes, organizing books in libraries, acting as a newspaper boy, I had to undergo multiple jobs to support my family. My sister, who was a few months younger than me, had to do the daily chores at home since my mother became weak.

Now that I am 16, I sometimes work at construction sites that are in other towns, some can be days away if you walk on foot. My family had become maintainable, making it so that some of the depression from the death of our loved ones fade away. By the age of 14, I started fooling around and acting like a total delinquent, which my mother has always lectured me about. 

Reality endured me once more as pleads from mother became directed to me. Alert, I listened once more for my mother's calming voice. "Niko, the stew is getting cold!" 

A small smile bounced upon my lips, I had completely forgotten about the stew. Delighted, I started towards downstairs to where the kitchen was out, a slight drool escaping from my lips. Half way down, I could already see my sister chowing down, man, she looked like a pig when she ate. I took the seat next to her as my mother placed down a bowl of her stew in front of me. The stew contained freshly cut potatoes with a few carrot slices, and a hint of spices that my mother has developed herself. 

The savory taste of the stew itself was more than enough to satisfy me, making the potatoes and the carrots just a mere bonus. Sipping on my second spoonful, I heard multiple bangs on the door. My mother was always the one to open the door, so of course, she was the one to open it now. I fixated my eyes on the door as she slowly opened it. Without hesitation, the man on the other side busted his way through, grabbing my mother by her wrist.

"MAMA!!" I screamed out, my eyes filled with fear. I recognized the man from earlier, the one with the unfamiliar uniform that was beating the horde of Germans. He was the brutal one.