I couldn't go back home
I scrounged in the funnels of the streets and urged the Germans for food for the first time since I reached here.
But it didn’t work. They only pushed me aside, sending me gliding into the grime. I could scarcely move anymore, let alone work how was expected of me. They harassed me for what appeared to be hours before leaving, but I couldn’t go back home.
I happened to be aware that everything was gone, all my family and mates. I cannot remember how long it been since we’ve been apart. They hauled us away just before the day of my birthday. What power of us did these people have to rid us of our independence and pleasure?
Standing before me was one of the men that drew me away from my family. With a flat grunt, I managed to support my skinny arms against the brick wall I had been leaning up upon. Applying what strength I had left, I hauled my body upwards into a standing position and started to walk behind him.
I had begun letting out little whines, while I walked down the paths of the concentration camps, my voice dragging behind me. It broke and stopped at times, but I continued, letting out the desperate cries. The guards accompanied me at a walking speed, directly catching up to the limping gait of my legs, which had been broken many times. I groaned louder, dismissing the looks of the other Jews gazing at me as the soldiers clasped my arms, forcing me onto my knees.
When I proceeded to whine, one moved in front of me, his rifle pointed at my temple. A wave of shock lingered through my body before fading away again. What did it matter?
I did not stop my groans. Something inside of the gun made a sound, but still, I didn’t stop. I suddenly smiled. I could feel a tiny patch of sunlight on my burned skin. It felt amazing.
The last few whines drained out of my mouth as the bullet finally exited the gun.