Broken Wings

A Series of Terror

Maximilian Schüffen- Munich, Germany 1941

They say that bad events occur in threes.

I'd like to say, for the sake of the Schüffens, that bad events only occurred in threes. Lately, however, bad events seemed to occur in greater masses, lurking in the depths of a dusty basement. Lurking in the inky blackness of the swastika. Lurking even in the sapphire blue eyes of an older brother.

"Max! They're coming!" he heard Else call, running up the creaky steps. Meeting at the middle, he nodded and hurried down to the basement, his heart pounding wildly.

Shuddering, he quickened his pace to the basement. As soon as he hit the bottom, a cold, musty breeze punched him in the face. Shivering and holding his breath, he dashed to the little corner where the closet stood. Just as he slowly shut the little door, voices were heard up above him.

As each minute past, Maximilian breathed harder and harder, trying to calm himself down. His breath smelled stale, hanging in the air. After several minutes, the S.S. officer came tromping down the stairs, flashing a blinding beam in every corner. Maximilian pressed further back in the closet, the chill of the wall seeping through his skin. Muted voices were faintly heard from outside.

"...Jewish son, correct?"

Max fought the urge to gasp. They knew. They knew he lived here. His heart beat faster and faster, like the wings of a hummingbird.

"Ja. He disappeared several years ago... haven't seen him..."

Lies. They crept up Maximilian's skin, sending chills up his spine. The voices became more muted now, to the point where they were merely background noises. Minutes passed on like small eternities. It seemed the S.S. would never leave.

And then he heard heavy footsteps, then nothing.

They waited ten minutes until Mama finally gave Maximilian the signal to come out.

"They almost found you, Max," Mama said once they were upstairs, her eyes glistening with tears. Else ran up to Maximilian, burying her face in his sweater. They were safe. God had spared them. At least for now.

"It's okay, Mama, it's okay."

"I don't know whether to support them, or to join the Resistance. It's just so hard," she cried.

"If they did arrest me, Mama, I'm sure they would treat me well. Look what good Hitler has brought upon our country!" Maximilian said, though not believing the thought himself. It made him cringe inwardly, to lie in front of his own mother.

"I suppose, sweetie. Though you mustn't tell anyone your name, understood? I lied to them, Max, and I'm sure they would not like that if they knew."

Else just stood there, listening to it all.

❀❀❀

The second bad event occurred that evening, in the street where Maximilian used to work. As he left his old apartment above the store, a young Nazi, most likely around Max's age, stopped him in the street.

"Juden," he said, glaring down at Maximilian.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," he said meekly, trembling. The Nazi's eyes bored into his own, sending fear throughout his entire body. What did they want with him? Did they know who he was? What if he knew Mama lied?

"They never do," he spat, "Out of my way."

"Pardon?"

"Out of my way," he repeated, this time with more force. Quivering, he did as told. As Maximilian began walking in the direction instructed, the soldier stuck out his foot, causing Max to trip and fall straight to the cobblestone road. The crumbling brick met his olive skin, the impact reverberating throughout his body. Groaning, he tried to get up.

"Halt! Stay there, that's where you belong." Laughing, the soldier turned on his heel and strode in the opposite direction, not even looking back at the figure lying on the street. Waiting until the footsteps ceased to be heard, Maximilian slowly rose from his spot on the ground, examining his injuries. Though his hands were cut up, and his nose dripping blood, he seemed to not sustain any major injuries.

"Maximilian! Oh dear. Else! Get the first aid kit!" Mama called as Max walked in the door, blood staining his shirt. Mama ushered him in, directing him to a dining room chair.

"Tell me what happened." She dabbed a cotton gauze on his nose, dipping it in water. Maximilian still trembled ever so slightly, unable to get the image of the Nazi out of his mind.

"A Nazi soldier stopped me in the street," he started. "As I turned to leave, I tripped on his boot and fell to the ground. It's really no big deal."

"Poor dear, you did right," she said. Maximilian nodded, wanting merely to slink back into his bedroom. He couldn't be so sure.

"Mama, we have to do something."

"But what?"

Three days later, the family decided that Max would just have to stay inside.

I suppose forced to stay inside for an undetermined amount of days could be considered bad event number three.

❀❀❀

The fourth bad event occurred a day later when Josef came home for the evening.

He was not very happy with his mother or brother.

"You lied to the Führer! You've gone against everything I believe in. You're becoming a Jew sympathizer. I will not let that happen in this household!" Josef yelled one evening, pacing in the dining room.

"Josef! I am ashamed of you. You do not have control over this house, your father does. Maximilian is your brother. Is this what you really want? To become enemies with your brother?" Mama said angrily. Tears began to well up in her eyes. Why, why should she have to choose?

"You side with him, you're enemies with me. Enemies with the Führer. With the entire country. Is that what you want?"

"Josef, please, he's your brother."

"I don't care if he's my brother! He is a Jew!" Josef stopped his pacing, glared at Mama, and then left.

Mama cried in her sleep the rest of the night, Father comforting her. No mother should have to choose between two of her children.

Maximilian never even heard of the incident.

I have never understood how one man, one man, could be so overpowering. So persuasive, and could change people from friendly beasts to monsters.

Suddenly, the Führer meant more to people than their family.