As the days, moments, and seconds passed, I felt myself losing all sense of reality. I started hallucinating almost every night. I fought to bring myself back to reality with every dream, but the dreams brought me comfort and companionship even though I knew it was just my mind trying to shield me from what was happening in the outside world.
My father quickly realized that I was growing sicker and weaker, and did his best to keep me lucid. He brought me more food and water, but the quality of what he brought did not change. He gave me a blanket that had holes in it, and did little to protect me from the beatings. He did begin to let me get a few hours of sleep before his torture continued, but what he gave wasn't nearly enough to sustain me.
He had reached a point of complete desperation. He so desperately believed that what he was doing to me was for my own good and that the only person doing any harm was me. He would continually lecture me on how foolish I was for not allowing him to protect me, and that it was my own fault. According to him, the beatings were his way of trying to persuade me to change my mind, but he hardly ever hit me himself. He told his men that they could do what they wanted to me until I changed my attitude.
I remember him as he stood and watched them punch, kick, and spit on me. If he ever thought they went too far, he would stop them, but that was usually when my father could tell I was moments from passing out, and he didn't want me to blackout and not learn the lesson that he was trying to bestow upon me.
One night, as I was huddled in the dark corner of the cellar, just moments from drifting off into restless sleep, I heard the door that led to the cellar softly creek open. I tried to see who it could be, but the cellar was too dark, and whoever it was didn't turn the light on. After a few moments, I waited anxiously to see who would appear. A few minutes passed, and I felt like I was being hunted by an invisible monster. A dim light turned on, and a face appeared in front of me. The man was tall, with dark blue eyes, his hair was a sandy blond, and he looked at me through squinted eyes, obviously one of my father's men. I knew who he was, he hadn't been very involved in my beatings, but he was always around to watch. He stood, looking at me as though he was contemplating his next move. He walked over to me and brushed some of the dirt off my face. I flinched at his touch. He smiled slightly, and then he stood back up and placed his hands behind his back. He paced back and forth like a cat about to pounce on its prey.
"You would be quite pretty you know, if you weren't so skinny, and filthy," The man said
"What do you want?" I croaked.
The man walked closer and knelt down before me, "No wonder Rolf was so infatuated with you. You're stronger than you look." My heart sped up at the mention of Rolf.
"He tried really hard to hide his affection for you, but between you and me, he wasn't very good at it," He said with a chuckle.
"What do you want?" I asked again.
"You," The man answered.
I felt my body begin to shake even more than it already was. I wasn't exactly clear on what he was saying, but I knew I didn't like it.
"I may not be Rolf, but maybe if you just pretend I am, and this might be fun for both of us," The man said, unbuttoning his shirt.
I tried to get to my feet, but I stumbled. The guard grabbed me roughly by the arm and pulled me into his arms, kissing me roughly on lips. His breath smelled of alcohol, and the hair on his chin scratched my face. I did my best to pull away from him, but I was too sick and weak. The man ripped my shirt and pushed me against the wall, his hands were making their way down my body. I bit down on his lip till I tasted blood, and then I kicked him as hard as I could in the groin. The man groaned in pain and pulled back a little, I slipped out of his arms and tried to get close to the cellar door and yell for help. I knew I wasn't strong, but I thought it would take him more time to get back to his feet. He got a grip on the collar of my shirt and dragged me to the cold floor. He straddled me and held both my arms above my head, chains and all. I was unable to move and could barely breathe, he seemed to have all his weight on me, and I was too thin to handle a grown man's full body weight. I thought I could feel a few of my ribs breaking.
The man leaned down close to my ear, kissed my neck and then whispered, "Maybe this will teach you a few manners."
I tried to scream, but the man's weight was crushing me, and I could barely breathe. The man began to unbutton his pants, and then in an instant, a shot rang out, blood splattered all over me, and the man fell. I scrambled to my feet and covered myself with what was left of my shirt. I looked up and saw my father holding a pistol in his hand. He looked startled, and I saw a hint of guilt in his expression. He placed his gun back in its holster and then slowly walked over the body and over to me. Tears overwhelmed me. I hated looking weak in front of my father.
"Drunk bastard," My father mumbled to himself.
He walked towards me, but didn't touch. I looked up at him, wondering why he would shoot one of his own me after he had told them to do what they pleased with me.
"Are.... you alright?" My father asked nervously.
I nodded, unable to find any words.
My father looked down at me with a look of kindness that I hadn't seen in years. "It won't happen again, I give you my word."
"I wish your word meant anything to me," I said through my tears.
My father seemed slightly hurt by my words, but he recovered quickly. He headed back to the cellar stairs, and I slid down against the wall onto the floor.
I was left in the cellar with the body of my attacker for a few hours. I stayed in the corner of the room. I knew he was dead, but an irrational part me thought he would get up and try to attack me again. The blood that came from the man's head ran onto the floor and created small pools of blood, the smell of blood was suffocating, but at the same time, it was a reminder that my father had saved my life. I didn't understand how he could justify beating me, but not justify having one of his men try to rape me. There were some dirty rags under the steps of the cellar. I did my best to clean up as much of the blood as I could, but there was too much of it. So I sat back down and tried to ignore the stench. I could still taste the man's mouth on mine, and feel his hands all over me. I felt like he had covered me in something other than dirt, it was shame. I knew deep down in myself that I hadn't done anything, but for some reason, I wondered if I had never allowed Rolf to get close to me, if the man would have still tried to rape me. I didn't blame Rolf, but I wished he had been there to fight for me instead of my father.
Two men came down into the cellar and took the body, they were two prisoners. They looked at me with fear and amazement. I knew anyone who knew of me must have assumed I was dead. The men didn't speak to me, and tried to avoid eye contact, I didn't expect them to address me, but I was happy that someone other than my father's men knew where I was.
After the man had tried to rape me, no guard came down to the cellar. No one came down, and it felt as though I had been forgotten entirely. One day I heard a lot of pounding and yelling upstairs. I listened to a lot of muffled sounds that I couldn't decipher, but after a few hours, the noises stopped. I expected either my father or one of his men to come and check on me, but no one came. Days passed, and no one brought me food. I stopped hearing my father's men walking around his house, and everything seemed to go quiet. I was already starving, but my father had been giving me enough food so that I at least stayed alive. I felt the pain in my stomach twist, and nausea quickly set in. I had some water that I did my best to preserve, but soon even that ran out.
I was curled up in the corner of that cellar, waiting for death. I hadn't had water in what felt like days, all I had was the small drops of water that dripped through a crack in a pipe that ran through the cellar ceiling.
I laid on the cold stone floor, so tired and sick that I began to pray for a peaceful death. Suddenly the cellar door burst open with a big crash, as though someone had blown the cellar door up. Dust and debris fell from the ceiling, and I tried to shield my face. All of a sudden, it became deafening, and I heard unfamiliar voices surround me. When I uncovered my face, I saw two men staring at me as though I were a zoo animal. They stared at me, and I stared back with the same level of amazement. They didn't seem to want to get too close, but then one of them took a small step forward. He spoke English to me, but I didn't understand what he was saying. I sat up and leaned against the wall behind me. He shook his head and then looked over his shoulder at his friend. The other man came over to me and knelt down before me.
"What's your name?" The man asked with a bit of difficulty, German was obviously not his first language.
I looked the two men over, they were not wearing SS uniforms, and neither had swastikas on their arms. "Beth," I answered.
"Please, come with me." The man said in German.
I looked at the man with confusion, not understanding, and wondering if he was just another one of my father's guards.
"Please, you are safe now," The man said, holding out his hand.
"Do you work for my father?" I ask in a low voice.
"Who is your father?" The man asked, looking puzzled.
"Arnold Schmitt," I answer, wondering why he didn't already know that.
"Schmitt? You are his daughter?" The man asks with a bewildered expression
I assumed he already knew, I thought everyone knew.
"Yes," I said quietly.
The man stared at me in amazement for a long time, and then seemed to realize what he was doing. He looked at the man behind him and seemed to explain to him what he had just heard. He looked back at me and continued to hold out his hand.
"Come now, you are safe," The man offered.
I struggled to realize what was happening, but I tried to get to my feet. I was weak and unstable, so the soldier had to lift me up. He placed my arm around his neck and helped me up the stairs. When we reached the top, I realized several men were standing in my father's living room. They were all wearing the same uniform, and all had large guns hanging off of their shoulders. The uniforms were unlike the Nazi uniforms that were almost all black, these were all light brown, although I noticed some were light green as well. They were all soldiers I didn't recognize. They all looked startled and horrified when they saw me, unlike the unfeeling, Nazi guards I was used to. They looked at me with shock and sadness. The soldier who had my arm let me rest in a chair at the dining room table. The men whispered amongst themselves, although I could still hear them. One of the men approached me slowly, almost as though if he came too close or spoke too loudly, I would break. I understand that now looking back on it. I was in such a state I believe I might have cracked at the slightest move or loud voice.
"Why were you in your father's cellar?" The man asks calmly.
I shook my head, not clear as to my answer. "He wanted to...to protect me," I replied.
"Protect you? How did you get to the camp? Why would he put you here?" The man asked in astonishment.
"He is insane," I said in a weak and shaky voice, "He thought he was protecting me. He put me here because my mother and I were Jewish sympathizers."
The man looked shocked. He didn't seem to know how to translate his shock into coherent German, so he remained quiet.
After a while, the foreign soldiers took me back to the camp. The sudden burst of sunlight hurt my eyes after I had been in darkness for weeks. I saw many soldiers helping the prisoners. Women were crying, some seemed confused but too weak to question any of it, and others were smiling and thanking the soldiers who had freed them. I saw a few Nazi guards being dragged away by the guards who had saved me. The Nazis fought and yelled, but eventually were loaded into trucks and driven away.
I struggled, but I was able to walk on my own, a few times, I had to hold on to the side of one of the buildings to steady myself. I saw soldiers everywhere. The looks on their faces said more than any words. I saw one man who was standing near the open pit of unburied bodies vomit at the scene before him, and most likely, the smell. I saw another soldier holding a young girl on his lap, she was crying, and he looked as though it took all his might not to join her. People seemed to wander aimlessly, and others seemed to know exactly what they were doing. I simply stood and watched what was taking place before me. A soldier walked towards me, and when he was close enough, I reached out and grabbed his arm, he stopped and looked at me.
"Who are you?" I asked.
The man seemed to take a moment, I realized he most likely didn't understand German and was trying to figure out what I was saying.
"British Military," The man answered, "You are liberated," He added, and he continued walking.
I remember standing there, watching men and women cry at the thought of freedom, while others seemed to be numb and scared. I didn't know exactly how I felt, it all seemed so unreal. I wondered if it was just another hallucination I was having. I heard my name being called, and I looked around to see who it might be. It was Edith. She quickly ran up to me and wrapped me in her arms. The warmth of her hug felt comforting, but it also sent pain through my whole body because of all the bruises I had sustained. I winced and drew back.
"Beth, what happened? You have been gone for weeks, I thought you had died," Edith said with worry.
"This is real, isn't it? I'm not dreaming this time, am I?" I asked dazed.
"Of course, this is real. Beth, where have you been?" Edith said, desperately clinging to me.
"My father locked me up in his cellar," I said, trying to fight away tears, "I was....beaten..." I trailed off, trying to fight off the memories.
Edith gave me a look that suggested she understood that it was not a topic I wished to discuss any further. She and I began to walk in silence, neither of us knew where we were walking to, but we just kept walking. We walked to the front gates of the camp, they were open, and people were walking in and out of it as though nothing had happened. I looked at Edith, and I noticed a tear was sliding down her cheek. I took her hand in mine.
"I thought I was going to die in this place," Edith said, still looking at the massive steel gates.
"We all did," I answered.
Edith squeezed my hand gently, "What do we do now?" she asked.
I looked at her and then back at the gates, "I don't know."
Edith and I were escorted to a few trucks that were taking survivors to help centers. Edith was happy to be placed in the truck, but I was far less eager. I couldn't help but remember the last time I had been placed in a truck. I had a hard time believing that I was truly safe. Edith held onto my hand firmly and reassured me that things would be okay, and that she would be near me the whole time. Two soldiers helped us into a truck, it was packed with a dozen other survivors, they all looked nervous but full of hope and relief. They closed the back of the truck, but it had a large opening, so I could still see outside. When the truck started, the loud noise startled me, and Edith did her best to ease my troubled mind, but wasn't reassured very easily. As the truck began to move, I watched the camp grow smaller and smaller with every passing moment, and I felt relief sweep over me, but then something struck me. I looked at Edith with fear.
"What happened to my father?" I asked, hoping Edith knew.
"He fled. I'm not sure if they caught him. Many of the Nazis fled, a few stayed and tried to fight, but it was no use," she said gently.
I wasn't sure if I was happy to hear that. I didn't know where my father was, and I was scared to death at the thought of him finding me. All I knew was that I had somehow survived, and now I had to figure out what to do next.