a/n: I'm really glad a lot of people seem to be reading this! please comment or message me if you have any constructive feedback! and don't be one of those annoying ghost readers lol it literally takes a second to vote :)
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As I walked back to the house, it began to settle upon me once again how petrifying the camp was. The entire morning I'd been wearing a scarf to cover my hair; Marco had suggested I do in order to prevent any sort of bug or weird disease from crawling into it. Of course it was irritating, him assuming that the workers had lice or diseases, but it was true that the camp was extremely unsanitary as well. And whose fault was that?
I had my hands shoved down the pockets of my black collared dress when I walked past a group of guards, cautiously. I had never walked through the camp on my own—admittedly, I had my doubts about how it would go, but felt too embarrassed to continue with Marco.
For a few moments, the guards let me pass; but after another few moments, one barked at me. "Halt!"
I froze, then turned around. All three of the men stared at me before running over, causing me to gasp as one of them grabbed me by my arm, shook me, and screamed in my face. "Deine Papiere?! Your papers?! You can't just walk the grounds alone!"
I gasped, shocked by the sheer magnitude of the presence of these men. They were large and strong; capable of doing unspeakable atrocities. Their eyes were filled with horrible intentions. I felt my lips tremble. "M-My papers?" I finally stuttered, frightened. "I—"
"Where are they? Failure to produce identification results in imprisonment!"
"Imprisonment?!" I felt my blood grow cold before I stared at him. Aren't I already a prisoner? "No, I—" I shrieked in terror as one of the men behind me began to pat my body up and down, groping my hips and my breasts as the other laughed in a beast-like manner.
"I don't feel anything," he spoke, ripping me from the arms of the first officer and turning me to face him. He groped my breasts again, lecherously. His eyes burned with hunger. "Well, maybe I do feel something."
I wanted to vomit. I felt—and was—completely defenseless as the man continued to laugh, his breath reeking of cigarettes and rotten teeth, before the first officer shouted at me again. "You don't have them!"
"N-no." I felt my eyes burn in fear. "But sir, I just left them—"
"Shut up! You are all the same. Excuses and more excuses, as if they mean anything to me. Can't you see that I don't care? The sooner you are all dead, the sooner I can go home and this fucking war will be over." The guard grabbed my jaw, harshly. "You should consider yourself lucky. I wish I could shoot you on the spot."
I drew in a breath. Despite the war having begun four years ago, I always found myself so horrified by the men in the SS uniforms; disgusted by their vile, violent, and abhorrent treatment. But my biggest fear didn't come from the things I had witnessed, such as hangings, execution-like murders, and torturing—it came from the things I had experienced.
As the man slapped me across my jaw, I felt myself scream out in acute pain. Had it been the back of his hand that he'd hit me with, or his pistol? Suddenly, memories of the last time I'd been beaten this horribly flooded my mind. I dropped to my knees and began to cry as quietly as I could, knowing that crying loudly was just reason for them to beat me even more. Though it didn't seem to matter—the next blow was delivered remorselessly by the thick leather boot of the officer, which came into harsh contact with my fragile stomach.
The only reason I couldn't scream was because my mouth had already been filled with the sharp flavor of my own blood. I doubled over in pain, choking violently as I attempted to spit all of it out. I gasped and choked again once the guard yanked me up and stared at me, his eyes filled with disgust. I flinched as he reached forward and tore my headscarf off, undoubtedly taking a few pieces of my hair as well, due to the sharp stinging I felt in my head. I gasped again as I looked closer at the officer, this time out of shock.
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the law of attraction | reus + lewandowski
Fanfictionfor magdalena, a polish jew, the law of attraction had always meant that everyone always got what they deserved. she had always strictly adhered to this law, but that was before the war. that was before she became the housemaid of the stern command...