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Jaelle stayed away from the windows, far away. They were also covered by that thick, black curtain. She couldn't be caught, it would be dangerous. Deadly.
That's all she truly knew, she had no clue what was going on. The building shook once every hour, and people would cry out for love ones. She could only look out the window at night, but it was tricky.
What she saw was a train, a train coming, taking people, and leaving. Some people would watch, pity in their eyes. Others would watch as if it was some funny show, then there was those people who ignored it.
She didn't have a clue what was happening, she never did. Her parents were gone, her sister was too. That was days ago, weeks.
Jaelle would hold her breath, the rumble of the train striking fear into her. Was her family still on it? Or were they somewhere else?
Sometimes she'd close her eyes, imagining her mother's hand running through her hair. Her nursery rhymes calming her and her sister down. Nadya was the girls name, Nadya and Jaelle.
Jaelle let out a quiet sigh, and stood up shakily. The curtains were covering the window, and it was night. She should be okay, at least that is what her father told her.
She stretched her arms above her head, and let out a breath. "Help me." No one was going to hear her, no one was there. Jaelle walked towards the wall, and leaned her back against it, before she slid down.
Jaelle let her head fall forwards, in between her legs. She was going to try and sleep-- how could she mange that? The building shook again, and the sound of a child screaming filled her ears.
Jaelle moved herself to the window, and slightly opened the window. The street was illuminated by the moonlight, to show the shallow face of a small child, much younger then herself. He was sat on the street curb, sobbing for his Mama.
Jaelle let out a breath, and fell back from the window. If he was like her, not perfect, he'd be gone soon. The female walked back over to the wall, until a small breeze started to lift the brim of her dress up.
Her dress was once bright and colour-filled, different materials stitched together in a beautiful way that only her Grandmother could accomplish. Now it was soiled and ripped, after weeks of being in hiding.
Next came the sound, as if someone ran a key over piano strings. It stung her hears, not used to such noises. But then to sound filled Jaelle with panic, she was going to be found!
Jaelle looked around, where was it coming from? She dropped to her knees, and covered her ears. Confusion joined the panic, she was terrified.
Jaelle let her eyes rise, and what she saw confused her. A blue police box sat in the center of the room, but she didn't know this. Where she lived, Germany, no one used them. The girl got onto her feet, and used the wall for support.
Jaelle brushed some of her knotted hair, and walked towards it. Knock knock. Jaelle held her breath, and prayed that she wouldn't be taken away. She had to get out of here. She took a step back-wards, and sat her hand back against the wall.
Then it happened, the blue doors flew open. Jaelle squeaked, and her eye's widened. "Bună ziua?" That was her languish, Romanian. Bună ziua was hello.
A man popped his head out, his hair flopping into his face. He ran his hands through it, the man's forest green eyes taking in the small girl.
"Cine esti?" Jaelle was asking who he was, who are you were the words she spoke. The man raised a brow. "Sorry, can't understand you."
"Who are you?" The female tried again, she didn't know that she had changed languages. The man beamed, and walked out of the box, "The Doctor, and you?"
"Jaelle, Domnule Doctor, I am Jaelle."
"Where are we, Jaelle?"
"Germany,"
The man seemed to think her words over, raising a brow. "Where are your parents, Jaelle?"
"They left."
"Left where?"
"No idea,Domnule." Jaelle swallowed, blinking several times. Her black hair was a frizzy mess, never once been brushed. Her tanned skin had began to become pale, from the lack of light and water.
"How could you not know?"
Jaelle paused for a moment, before hugging herself with her thin arms. "Nadya was crying, the soldiers came. They went on the train. Haven't been back."
"Why would the soldiers take them?" The man - The Doctor - looked down at her, to which the female squeaked uncomfortably. "We were in hiding,"
"Why?"
"We aren't welcomed."
"Yes, I get that, but why?"
"We aren't of pure blood, Domnule."
The man stared at her for a moment, "Pure blood? Pure blood? What? Is this Harry Potter, or something?"
"Harry Potter?"
Soft forest green-eyes stared into her own hazel-brown, he frowned slightly. "After your time, a few more years, I suppose."
"Well, no Doctor, not Harry Potter." Jaelle shook her head, rubbing her eyes.
"Who is it then?"
"Hitler, sir."
The man visibly paled, and his next words were soft. Very soft, as if he was speaking to a terrified child -- he was speaking to a terrified child. "Jaelle, what year is it?"
This question had taken her back, "You don't know?" She questioned lightly, a confused aurora around her words. "Honestly?" When the male never denied her statement, she shrugged. "1934, last time I was told. May be later, though."
The man's face was the colour of fresh paper, and his eyes had lost all sights of softness it once held. They were now sharp, stern, maybe worried.
"Oh," The Doctor's lips parted. "Jaelle, where are your parents?"
Scrunching her toes up - her feet were bare and blistered - she sniffed, "On the train, sir. They left with Nadya on the train."
"The train?"
The female nodded, chewing lightly at her bottom lip. "Everyone like us go on the train, they don't come back. No one does." Pausing for a moment, she felt a weird heartache form. "To the death camps -- work camps, that's what Mama said," She corrected herself.
Jaelle's family had to come back.
"What's your name? Full name."
"Jaelle Anghelescu."
The Doctor thought hard, trying to see if he ever heard that name before this moment. Of course he didn't know every victim's name from the Holocaust, but at lease he could see if she played an important part.
Nothing he could think of.
The Doctor sighed, pressing a palm against his head. This could have drastic consequences, but she was a child! She looked no older than thirteen, he just had no.
"Jaelle Anghelescu, come with me."
And that was how a single world changed this girl's life.
