the law of attraction | reus + lewandowski

ONE

March, 1943

—

I could feel my heart beating at the speed of light. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to be here. I never wished for any of this to happen, and had done nothing to deserve it. So why was I—or we—being punished?

In all 20 years of my life I had believed strongly in the concept of karma, or the law of attraction. That every good thing you did would be returned with something just as good, or even better, in the future. And the same went for bad actions, which would later bestow you with bad circumstances.

I had never been bad. Maybe I wasn't always good, but I was never bad. And because of this, I couldn't understand what on earth I'd done to deserve being in the situation I was currently in.

I had no housemaid experience. When Herr Kommandant had asked all of the young women which of them did have experience working as a housemaid, they all rose their hands. All except for me.

Of course I know why he chose me. It made me sick to my stomach. For a long time, I'd hated my blonde hair band blue eyes. I never looked like anyone else in my family—save for my mother—or any of my friends from Hebrew school. Many of my peers would tease and taunt me, claiming that I was the product of an affair; that I was illegitimate and not a real Jew.

My mother, Anja, had been a silent film actress. She'd been raised loosely Catholic, but converted wholeheartedly to Judaism in order to marry my father, Jakub. They had two children then—myself, born in 1923, and Klara, born in 1928. Klara was my little sister. She had blue eyes like me, but had inherited shiny brown hair from our father. As much as it pained me to admit it, I looked nothing like my father—only was it when I smiled that you could see the resemblance.

But I hadn't smiled in a long time. I couldn't fathom why I would ever smile again, unless the war ended within my lifetime.

"Magdalena, get in here—NOW!"

Startled, I dropped the spoon I was shining. Before I could move, I heard the commandant's footsteps at the doorway of the kitchen. Frightened, I picked up the spoon, then turned to face him. "Yes, sir?"

I didn't know his first name. The most I knew abut him in terms of his real name was that his last name was Reus, and that was what everyone seemed to call him. Herr Kommandant or Herr Reus, out of respect. I didn't understand how anyone could respect this man.

"What are you doing?"

My fingers trembled as I held the spoon. "I—I'm just—shining your silver."

"Did I ask you to do that?" The Commandant approached me, then grabbed the large soup spoon from my hands. He stared at his reflection in it, then back at me. I bit my lip. I didn't understand why he ate from silver, anyways. 

"No, Herr Kommandant."

"And take this thing off." The commandant suddenly reached forward and ripped the Star of David off of my white apron, causing me to gasp and watch as he stuffed it in his pocket. "I don't need to be reminded of who you are when you're already my help. Finish this up and then go get cleaned. I have guests coming soon, and the last thing I need is for you to look like this."

"Yes, Herr Kommandant." I pushed my blonde hair out of my eyes before they met the commandant's.

"Don't just fucking stand there, Magdalena. Do as you're told."