It was early in the year of 1945 when Edith had arrived on the last train that would come at Aussichtslos. Neither Edith or I knew that, but we had begun to notice that tensions amongst the guards were growing. The work that was done in Aussichtslos never ceased, and my father had started to have more outbursts. When I worked for him, I could hear him shouting his soldiers. I never knew what his tantrums meant or why he would fly into such a rage, however as long as he hollered, the guards would forget about me, and I was able to have more freedom as I worked. Edith and I had also noticed that more and more planes flew over our tiny camp. We were isolated from the rest of the world, but whenever a plane flew overhead, I would pray that they would look down and see us, and that perhaps rescue could be possible. Until that time, we all lingered in the hopeless belief that no one would come. Something was happening. None of the prisoners knew what, but the attitudes of the guards had shifted dramatically. More and more guards had been caught attempting to escape. My father did his best to remain controlled and emotionless, but at that point, so many guards had "disappeared" that we couldn't help but grow suspicious.
As the weeks passed, I attempted to help the people around me as best as I could, but it wasn't easy when I was always being watched. The less help the prisoners received, the faster they died. I did what I was able to. I helped the young sisters that slept above me in the bunks, I told them stories of when I was their ages and the adventures John and I had as young kids. I told them stories about how Mr. Becker would let us come with him to deliver repaired clocks to the people in my town. John and I loved going with him to all the people's homes and seeing their faces when Mr. Becker gave their newly repaired clocks back to them. I loved the amazement on people's faces as they saw the craftsmanship and detail of the clocks that Mr. Becker made. I couldn't help but laugh at some of the old stories that John would tell me when we were children. I told a few of them to the women, but some others brought to much pain to my heart that I couldn't get through them without crying.
I started smuggling food from my father's house when I went to work for him. He would give me one meal while I was there, and I would try to only eat a little bit and then hide the rest. He had a bowl of chocolates on the desk of his office. One day, when he wasn't there, and I was "cleaning" the room, I snuck a few into my pocket for one of the girl's birthdays. I will never forget the delight on the young girl's face when I gave the two small pieces of chocolate to her. Edith and I sang Happy Birthday, and then once they had fallen asleep, Edith and I went and sat on the floor near my cot. I cherished the times Edith and I had to just sit and talk like normal women, and not only prisoners. It gave me a small amount of time that I could just forget that I was stuck in hell and the suffering that was all around me. Most nights, Edith and I were unable to just sit and talk as we both were feeling rather sickly because of how empty our stomachs were and how broken our bodies were becoming. The only way to make the hunger pains stop for a little while was to try to find a few hours of sleep before the next day came. Although Edith helped me keep my anger somewhat at bay, I had just turned 20. I was stubborn, and I was still looking for a fight. I was done feeling sick and tired. I was grateful for Edith's company, but in my mind, it was only a matter of time until she too would get stripped away from me. I had lost so much. I mourned for John every day. His memory haunted me, and my anger grew until even Edith didn't know how to keep my emotions at bay.
My work at my fathers was simply, so he knew I was still alive, and to remind me that he would always be nearby, watching. Some days I simply sat in his kitchen and waited for him to ask for something. One day, I was cleaning his bedroom, and I found one of my mother's dresses hidden in the back of his closet in a brown paper bag. I knelt down and removed it from the bag slowly, almost as though it were her body in my hands. I didn't understand why he had it, or even why he would want it. It was a light blue dress with a silk bow, it was the one she would wear when she was in a particularly good mood. She told me once that it was my father's favorite. He loved walking through the front door and seeing her in it. I thought she had gotten rid of it once his "dealings" had been discovered. I held the dress tightly in my hands and brought it to my nose, my mother's scent still lingered a bit. I heard my father walk through the door downstairs and begin barking orders. I placed the dress gently back into the bag, but before I left the bedroom, I saw a small penknife on his bedside table. The two guards stood outside the room, listening carefully to the sound of my father's voice so as not to miss his orders, and I quickly grabbed the penknife from the table and put it in my pocket.
I never intended for it to happen. I was in the darkest place in my whole. I cannot justify it, and I will never try to, but it changed the course of my whole life. As I was walked back from my father's house to the women's barracks, the guard then stopped me suddenly. He turned me roughly so that I was forced to face him.
"I know what you took, you thieving wretch. When your father hears of this, he'll have you hung." The guard sneered, "Give it here."
"Or what?" I spat, not afraid of another beating.
He pushed me hard against the fence behind me. His arms were pressed against my throat, and I felt his hands begin to wander down my back until it landed on my bottom.
"Might as well get some use out of you before you hang," The guard laughed.
I struggled for air and then lifted my knee and struck him in the groin. He fell onto the ground with a moan, and when I attempted to run passed him, he grabbed me by the leg, and I fell onto the ground, hitting my head. The guard pulled me back to him, and once he had a firm grip on me, he quickly straddled me, making it nearly impossible to breathe. He was not a big man, but he was stronger than I was. He licked his lips, and he bent down to kiss me. I could feel his tongue in my mouth as I struggled to reach the knife in my pocket. Finally, I reached it, flipped it open, and with one swift movement, I shoved the blade into the guard's neck. I could feel the knife cut through the man's flesh. In a panic, I removed the knife and began stabbing wherever else I could. The guard tried to scream, but the only thing he could manage was to cough up blood. The man stopped moving and lay limp on top of me. I wriggled my way out from under him, dropped the knife, and ran.
I had nowhere to run. I couldn't just run out the front gates. Wherever I hid, I would be easily discovered. As I ran back to the barracks, I heard shouting behind me. Someone had found the body of the guard. I dropped the knife immediately and slammed myself against one of the buildings. There would be no escaping what I had done. I saw Edith struggling with a wheelbarrow in the yard, and I saw guards standing around watching the prisoners work. I took a deep breath and walked over to Edith. I grabbed the other handle of the wheelbarrow. Edith looked surprised to see me there, and she instantly knew something was wrong. My hands were covered in blood, I knew it wouldn't be long till I was caught.
"I'm sorry," I mouthed to Edith, and suddenly guards from all sides of us circled us. One of them grabbed Edith, and then they were just circling me. All their guns were out, and I had no way of escape. I slowly knelt down onto my knees. I placed my hands behind my head and prepared for a shower of bullets, but none of the guards made a move against me. One of them quickly approached, and grabbed me by the wrist, nearly breaking it, and he pulled me out of the middle of the yard. I was dragged to my father's house, and I had at least 6 guards watching me as we walked. The whole camp saw me. I was covered in blood, surrounded by guards on every side of me. When we entered the house, I was walked into my father's empty office.
The guard who had had an arm-breaking grip on me finally released me, and then everything went black.