The Boy in the Basement

Chapter 35

*3rd person point of view*

The room was small and cramped with scared, lonely people. Many of them stay in groups. Although they don't talk, they find a small bit of comfort in each other. Not that the comfort mattered that much. The tortures would just continued the next day, and the day after that, until they day that they died. Each one would die alone in the end, because the soldiers had stripped them of all they had; their honor, their families, their belongings... there was nothing left.

There was one man, though, who didn't seem to mind being alone. Sure, sometimes he talked. But mostly he sat on his bunk, small as it was, and kept to himself. The reason was because he didn't want to get in trouble. The man's plan was to get out of the dreaded camp, ad get out alive. At the moment it didn't seem very likely. He was starving and tired, and the guards weren't kind people at all. They found any reason to hurt their prisoners; who cared how much they beat them, when they would die anyway. The filthy Jewish scum. But this man kept hope, no matter how mall. He had a lot of reasons to keep hope. He had memories mostly. There were memories of kindness, of love, and of being welcomed. There was the first time he met the young girl, and that sparked a strong friendship that lasted forever, and only got stronger through words. There was when he finally learned to draw after an endless amount of practice. There were talks with the man who took him in. One of the most prominent in his mind, though, was the first kiss he had shared with the girl, the book lover's older sister. That had been a moment filled with happiness, joy, and love. Oh, how he missed that girl...

Slowly, he pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket. This was the one thing the soldiers didn't take. It was a small drawing that had been given to him when he had first arrived on Himmel Street. It was a bit smudged from his pocket, but it was still the same drawing. This was what brought the man the most hope. It was a symbol of what he once had, and the kindness he had once been shown. He would go back to the family once he was out of the camp. He had to, because they were the only ones he had left. There was the man who risked his life to help the Jew, because of an old promise he once made. There was the woman who always gave him warm food to eat, even if it meant she didn't have as much. There was the young girl who shared with him a love of words, and showed him the outside as he stayed in. But mostly, there was the woman that he fell in love with. He had thought he had fallen in love before, but compared to this, those loves were nothing. his woman had shown him kindness when he thought there was none. She had no reason to. She didn't know who he was, and she hadn't made the promise her father had. But she treated him like being a Jew wasn't bad at all. The best part was that she loved him back. Somehow, she loved him back. All the Jew had to do was think of her, and it would give him strength to go on, to try and get out of the camp.

The Jew put the drawing in his pocked, lay down and closed his eyes. It was late, and he had to sleep. He dreamed of the family that night, and that made him realize that maybe things would be alright.