Caught Between Heaven And Hell

Out Rage - Maria

For the first time since I come here, I felt the slightest bit happy. I had met someone that was nice to me and caring. I was astonished at how she could be so friendly to someone like me. I was so glad things were lightening up the tiniest bit.
Roll call flew easily and then I was in line for breakfast. I got my piece of bread and coffee in the tin. A brown-looking liquid that lingered in the water. There was no teabag. No milk. All it really was in that cup was crushed acorns and water. Who knows how dirty.
I swallowed it with great dis-ease and then kept my bread. The guards were shoving others with their tins of coffee, so they spilt it. Sometimes they would even fall over and it would stain their clothes, another reason to beat them. I was lucky and walked past. I sat on the side of the rubble facing the buildings, not the gate like I always did.
When I got to the house, I wanted to see that girl more then anything. I wanted to know once and for all. Ask her. But one thing that run through my mind without question was that if she were my twin, she would be Jewish. Or, even better I would not be.
If she was Jewish, that would mean that I have a twin and the doctor, the nice doctor, Uncle M. would come and take us to a better place. He gave the twins candy and clothes. Best of all, they were not bashed, or killed. He treated the twins as his own children. That meant the end of this horrible torture that I was enduring. The end of daily routine, the end of the beatings. The end of starvation.
But when I begun work, I soon discovered she wasn’t there at all. I was so horrified. I needed to know. I also think she did too. She was so…interested. Just as I was. But she didn’t come to the house at all.

I made the trip back and it was dinner time. As we entered the gates I looked upon a slope on the perimeter of the fence on the inside. There was a long line of people standing in front of holes. They looked scared. One at the other end there was a person still digging. I assumed that they were digging their own shallow graves. Then there was a guard who walked up. Shooting them in the head as he walked so casually along the bottom of the slope. They fell in their graves as soon as they were shot. Some were not completely dead. They were moving in pain but they had a wound that they couldn’t die from. But he didn’t shoot them again. He walked on, leaving them to die from loss of blood.

With this new job, they gave us no lunch. We had breakfast and dinner of the same thing. “Coffee” and bread. Stale and unbearable. But when you’re starving, you will eat anything.
Then we went to afternoon roll call, so much like the morning. We stood in lines, waiting for the guards to get it over and done with. Then, the worst thing was when they stood people on the gallows and then they hung them. They had nooses upon their throats. Standing on a stool. The guard kicked the stool and they were left to dangle.
These people were picked at the guards digression. They let them fall and made everyone watch them die. Then we were made to march past. That served as a “Warning.”  As if we weren’t already scared enough.
After the guards have some fun by making us perform exercise, we climb into our beds. Others faint. Some just drop dead. It is just the way it works.


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