A darkness within my mind takes over, stealing the dream of belonging to this world, the hope that this will all end and bring all people closer together.
Keep me in your dreams,
and I’ll come to you each night.
Hold me in your arms
until the morning light.
“What is it you think you’re doing?” someone interrupts me.
My eyes flash open, finding an SS officer standing before me, the shadow from his cap darkening his complexion.
“Trying to cheer up the folks standing in the path before me,” I say.
“You’re a singer?”
“Yes,” I utter. My gaze drifts past the SS, finding a crowd of others watching me with handkerchiefs pressed up to their mouths, tears falling from their eyes, stares of concern—a form of worry I should hide behind. “I didn’t mean to disturb anyone.”
“We could hear you down at the other end of the platform,” the officer says.
“Again, I apologize for disturbing anyone.”
The officer lets out a groan and grabs me by the elbow, pulling me up to my feet and dragging me away from the line. All I can do is stare at the little girl with short brown hair, watching as I’m pulled away. She’s no longer crying. In fact, there’s a small smile poking at her lips as she waves her small hand in goodbye.
The officer doesn’t release me to any other line. He just continues dragging me along at a speed I can’t keep up with, forcing me to trip over my own feet as we go. It isn’t until we reach a row of buildings that he throws me to the ground and whispers something to another officer standing guard at a gate. The other officer stares down at me, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“It’s your head to risk,” the other officer tells the one who dragged me here.
Another exchange of whispers continues before the new officer points his baton at me. “Stand up.” I push myself up to my feet, trying to hold myself upright, as straight as I can. “Follow me.”
I follow his orders, walking in his shadow, looking around at thousands of others in every direction, dressed in blue and white striped uniforms, dirty, and sickly. They are all surveying me as if they’ve never seen a person who looks like me before, but that isn’t the real reason for their stares.
They all have Star of David badges. They’re all Jews. Is this where they’ve been taking our people? This muddy encampment that reeks of rotting flesh and manure? I can’t move my eyes fast enough, searching the entire area for a sign of Mother, unsure whether she’s been taken to the same area or somewhere different.
The air is almost unbreathable, solid and thick with ash and musk. To my left, I spot a set of gallows with ropes tied into nooses, hanging from each block. To my other side, I witness someone eating crumbs from a pile of dirt, shoving them intotheir mouth as if someone might steal them away. A dry ache burns through my chest. My voice will not save me here. On the contrary, my voice may become the end of me…
TWENTY-FIVE
LUKA
The officer stops short as we arrive in front of a set of narrow, red-brick buildings joining at a point in the shape of a V where a line of people are walking into the building. A large, open central hall blurs before my tired eyes, filled with rows of desks and groups of people waiting in a line at each. The farther I walk inside, the danker the air becomes, the smell of sweat and pungent chemical cleaner swirl together, forming a nauseating stench. Everyone watches each other, trying to understand what’s happening, as I am. Again, I search every face, desperate to spot Mother among them. But I don’t see her.
“Here, stand in this line,” the officer says to me, shoving me into the woman I’m standing behind.
“I’m very so?—”
I trip backward, a hand grappling the back collar of my shirt. “I didn’t tell you to speak,” the officer says, shoving me forward again.
With a breath scraping my throat, I scan the area without moving my head, searching for Mother, but there are so many people in here, dressed in drab, dark clothing with their heads covered, it’s impossible to pick anyone out of the crowd.
The line moves at a slow place, and I can’t hear what information the clerk is seeking up ahead.
“She said next, did you not hear her, fool!” another SS shouts from ahead, striking a man across the back with his baton.
As time passes, the light within the open area dims, the sun faintly glowing through the barred windows. Eventually, lights hanging from the ceiling flicker on, adding a subtle orange glow.
I’m next, waiting to step up to the tattered wooden desk where a woman sits with an open logbook spread out in front of her. A black scarf conceals her head, and she’s dressed in blue and white striped garb, a Star of David pinned to her chest.
