1939 [On Hold/Editing]

September, 1939?

"Hello, sweetie." A voice said. My eyes dilate, adjusting to the bright light. "Took a bit of a nasty fall there, but that's alright. Oh how rude of me," he mocks. "Welcome to the Hitler Youth." I mutter something inaudible, and if Mama ever heard, well.... "Sorry, what was that, Schweine?" He laughs.

"I said," I grit my teeth, "Ihr Bastarde können alle gehen und in der Hölle verrotten." (You bastards can all go and rot in hell). He laughs, showing his vile teeth.

"Oh, sweetie. You must have a death wish." He points his gun at my face. I notice his hand isn't on the trigger. I laugh.

"You would not dare to shoot me. You need me, or at least someone does. And how would that look, on a report. Killed a perfectly good Aryan? I don't think Hitler would like that." I cockily say.

"You're right, I can't kill you. But, I can hurt you." He sneers. I move to the corner of the cot I was on. He scooted closer and closer to me. I backed up, but not having anything behind me, I fell onto the cold, hard floor. I quickly stand up and runt to the opposite side of the room. "Don't think that that's going to help you. It's just you and me. You're weak, and going to give up soon."

"Never." I gulp. In the blink of an eye he had me pinned up against the wall. His breath reeked of alcohol, but in his drunken state, he was stronger than me.

"I'm going to make you regret your whole life." He throws me on the floor and my arm is scraped on the concrete.

"Stop, Heinrich!" Someone yells and opens the door. "You will leave her alone. From now on, you will be a guard of this building." I drag myself underneath the cot, and gather up the courage to look at the person who saved me. He had typical Aryan features, of course, but his eyes looked young, about 17, and full of sadness. They were red, like he had been crying, or like he hadn't slept in a week. "Now leave Heinrich." He says sternly. My abuser leaves then the boy sits on the cot I was underneath. "Now, I wonder where the poor Miss went. It would be a shame to not formally meet the troublesome girl I just saved." He sighs. I slowly crawl out from under the cot.

I look at his face.

"Hello, Miss. Please forgive me for not introducing myself, my name is Jack." He says in an English accent. Wait. English? England declared war on Germany.

"You-you're English?" I ask incredulously.

"Yes, Miss, but you cannot tell anyone. You won't, I can tell. Besides, if you do, it'll get us both killed. Then what would we do?" He chuckles to himself. "But," he says seriously, "you must call me Kommandant Eisenhaur." I stare at him. "Oh, what happened to your arm?" He reaches out to look at it, but I flinch. "It's okay, Miss, I'm not going to hurt you. I promise." I tentatively extend my arm and allow him to look at it. "It's just a scrape." He cleans the wound and bandages it. "There you go, Miss."

"Thank you, and you can call me Klara." I whisper. "Pardon me for asking, but how old are you, Kommandant Eisenhaur?" I ask while taking all of the information in.

"I am 18, but those damned Nazis think I am 25." He regains his gruff German accent. "Welcome to the Youth. Your training will begin as soon as you are useful. Heil Hitler!" He salutes me and stands up. "Always respond with a salute." He whispers as he turns to leave. "And Godspeed, Klara."

He leaves me, wondering what I did to get here. I climb into the cot and fall asleep, hoping I wouldn't be greeted with another Heinrich.

I tried making this chapter longer, I hope you guys liked it!