For The Loved Ones

"Papa, I'm scared." Through the dark, my voice sounded strange. Papa sat next to me, shaking just the same. He was always brave though, even in the possibility of death.

"Don't fear, little one. Don't fear. It will be alright." He pulled me into a side hug, and I could smell the oh so familiar sent of tabbaco. "All we can do is pray."

I could hear the heavy breathing of the others around me. We all crowded into a small, dark corner space in the attic. The men is uniforms roughly searched the room on the other side of the wall.

Somehow, I knew things wouldn't be okay. Somehow, I knew we would feel the same pain as our fellow Jews.

As the door slowly slide open to reveal the heartless eyes of the Nazi, a felt my heart stop. A hand slip into mine, and from the corner of my eye, I saw my beloved Fritz jump out of the small room, letting go of my hand, and onto the Nazi who carried a rifle in hand.