Of The Dark

Prologue: Hana

The bullet cracked into the air, accompanied by a sharp whistle. The noise heralded death and destruction, reverberating in the ears and setting off flocks of birds westwards towards the golden falling sphere.

Don't pay attention. It must have been the seventh gunshot today, or at least the seventh I heard. I whispered a small prayer, thanking God for not being at the receiving end of that monstrous contraption of death.

"Work faster," a low voice whispered into my ear, abruptly cutting my prayers short.

I stiffened, fearing the worst as I felt his body press against my back. Hurriedly, I tried to regain momentum sifting through the possessions of new prisoners, but he didn't seem to move. Instead, he rested a hand on my waist, sending shivers throughout my body. My breathing hitched but my hands didn't stop moving as I continued to put valuables in one basket and the excess in another.

Only through my peripheral vision could I tell that he was quite young. I didn't dare turn around to examine his features properly, mainly because I noticed he was in prestigious uniform and more so because I was certain that it was a gun pressed against my midriff and not any other innocuous object.

He lingered for a while, watching me work in close proximity despite there being at least thirty other women doing the same job. Barred between his tough chest and the stocked table, I felt immobile. I continued to work, trying my best to ignore his presence despite the reminder of his hand lightly sitting on my waist and his warm breath loitering around my neck.

What was he doing? He wasn't saying anything, nor did he seem concerned with the pace of my work anymore.

A few moments passed with only the sound of metal clinking or SS men stomping around filling the silence. Eventually, he relieved his hand off my waist and had walked away with nothing else to say. I exhaled in great relief, returning to work with full commitment, eager to not fall behind again.

As I continued to process the belongings, I couldn't help but catch glimpses of him. He walked in circles around the group of us prisoners in a measured yet imperious manner. Though he was notably younger than the several other SS officers standing around the area, he definitely attained a higher authority, visible in the way his uniform was decorated and in the way the other officers seemed more nervous today than every other day in which he wasn't here.

I found that my eyes had wondered to his face, which bore no smile, fitting well with the rest of his expressionless demeanour. His eyes were an arctic blue, glistening enough to be apparent from a distance, and were always focussed on the assembly of working women at hand. From time to time, I noticed his eyes fell on me, but only for split seconds. He had distinct cheekbones and an angular jaw that framed his youthful face and his pale skin seemed smoother than silk. His hair was not visible much under his peaked cap, but was a lustrous dark chocolate colour that seemed very soft to the touch.

I averted my eyes every time he would pass me, hoping he would give me no more attention the way he did before. I continued to work despite the prominent ache in my arms, managing to catch a few more glimpses of him as we walked round. The swastika was proudly displayed on his left sleeve and an Iron Cross on the chest pocket of his military coat alongside other ostentatious ornaments, as well as the gun perched on the left side of his belt.

A poster child for the tyrannous Nazi regime.

-

The following day obtained the same tiresome routine. In the morning, I had shovelling in the fields for the next rotation to come and plant vegetable seeds (to be used towards the war effort). Then in the evening there was processing belongings (in which yesterday I had my very strange encounter with the uniformed man) and after that I had to do the cleaning in the infirmary.

Another day at the camp once again left me exhausted and hungry. The meagre amount of soup they offered day combined with the laborious hours of work was bone shattering. When night fell and the clock chimed midnight to signal the end of a working day, I made my way to my allocated cabin with haste in anticipation to hold my mother and sister.

Mama and Lola were all I had left. Dad was gone, ripped away faster than I could have ever imagined. When we were admitted to the camp, we were stripped of all our possessions, left with nothing but a worn blouse and skirt and a single mattress to fit the three of us.

I wanted to leave. I wanted to go back home.

Nearing the doors to Cabin 14, I was halted in my tracks by a bony hand planting itself on my shoulder.

"Hana Amsel?" I turned around to view the Matron grabbing my attention. I nodded, unsure as to any reason why she would want to see me. "Come with me."