I am a slave, some people may consider me free because I live peacefully but to be truthful, I am a slave, not physically (not anymore at least), but mentally. I regret most of my life, my existence has been nothing but suffering and death and pain in every way, shape, and form. If I could go back in time to prevent my mother from meeting my father, I would because I hate being a slave and I would rather die yet I don't want to die. I want to die but I also don't want to die. I feel like I can still change things even though I know I can't. Tell me, is life worth living if you won't fight for your freedom? I fought for mine, so surely my life is worthy, right? I've lost so many friends, the love of my life, family, and comrades to the point where I wish I was never born so I wouldn't have to experience this but then again, I can feel death's breath down my neck so perhaps my time is near but here is my story one more time for old time's sake:
I suppose it all began in 1940 if I remember well. It was a cold morning and I woke up to my parents and Malcolm arguing over what seemed to be a new pair of shoes and a new pair of Lederhosen shorts. This continued for a while until my parents finally caved in and decided to take us all to the market. So, we went to the market and found what we were looking for and were on our way back home when I heard the sound of a car's engine. It was loud and obnoxious and I felt it as it got ever so close. It pulled up in front of the store that we were about to enter. Then suddenly 2 soldiers came out pointing weapons at us. My heart sank as I realized the situation, we were going to a concentration camp and there was no denying it. I knew that this day would come and I dreaded thinking about it, yet here it is, I had no way of escaping it. I took a glance at my mother and I saw nothing but fear and dismay which was the same for my father and my brothers. We didn't want to be brutally shot down and have our blood burst on the walls so we obliged the soldier and entered the vehicle (now I know it was a bus) in which there were more Jewish people, Black people, Roma people, and Homosexuals. On the way there my whole family was panicking especially Malcolm. Oh, how I hated him, he was older than me, but he was a coward and a slave. The thing is he wasn't willing to fight for his freedom and that is why I hated him so much, nonetheless, he was still my brother. Anyway, we arrived at the camp and the air was bitter, I could taste the blood in the atmosphere and it tasted like my own, I saw the exhausted workers and how they were suffering and I couldn't help but expect that to also be me. My head was also in grievous pain due to the utter shock and fear yet I refused to show signs of it. Afterwards, we were forced to get dressed in these striped clothes and we were told some precautions:
"Jews pay attention, from here on out you will be working here forcefully regardless of age height, and gender. If anyone here is disabled, please report to one of the nurses who walk around the field, however, all of you should expect horrible treatment, starvation, gas chambers, whips, little to no sleep, and a horrific way of life. You are all filthy Jewish bastards who deserve everything that's coming to them, Heil Hitler!'' Exclaimed Frankenstein Muller, the surprisingly stupid Chief Officer of the whole camp.
After saying these words, we were all transferred to our sub-camps and I was stuck with Marcus and Malcolm, the twins. Marcus was a wise man and he taught me a lot of important concepts. He was a pacifist as well and didn't believe in war and he was a religious man. I've always admired his courage and self-control and I wish I was like him, but I suppose this was the way I was born, as a violent, cold-hearted murderer. On the other hand, there is Malcolm. A spineless coward who would do anything just for validation. He was an attention seeker and a coward which are 2 qualities that don't mix very well. I believe his death was deserved. Nonetheless, he was still my brother. After this, we were introduced to our sub-camp overseer named Otto Schwarze, a truly despicable man who deserved death but perhaps death was too merciful. We were then beaten into this new routine and we were humiliated and spat on day by day by these Nazis, day by day my hatred grew and to this day I can still feel it, I still feel that blazing heat of anger even to this day, even after they're all gone that fire refuses to extinguish, it has already burned down my enemies but now It's burning me bit by bit.
1 week after arriving at the camp, I had this conversation with my brother Marcus, the oldest of the twins and the brave one. I was doing my normal day-to-day work with him and then he asked me
"Johansen, tell me, would you ever kill someone?"
I didn't expect him to ask me this as I had always made it clear that I would, but I still answered.
"It depends, I mean if my family was at stake or my freedom then yes, I wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone," I replied
"But why kill to achieve freedom, then you would just be a slave to guilt wouldn't you?" He said
These words that he said were unexpected, at that time I had no clue what a 'slave to guilt' was but little did I know that I will always be a slave to guilt for as long as I live.
"Slave to guilt?" I chuckled
"That's right, true freedom is being able to wake up without having to worry or fear anyone or anything, guilt in my book is a form of worrying and regretting, and this, in a way, limits your actual freedom."
After saying these words, the guard looked at us for a bit, so Marcus paused until the guard looked away. I was a bit confused as to what he was saying as at that moment I couldn't fully grasp how someone could be a slave to something besides their mind.
"Like I was saying, for me, freedom is being able to do whatever you want without having anything or anyone intervene, and guilt is something that may intervene so that's why I aim to try to reach freedom without taking human life, also no human life is better than any other human life, my life isn't worth any more than yours or that Nazi's."
I didn't reply to his words as I was meditating on them, but they did have an impact on me, it didn't change my ideologies of course, I still wanted to achieve my freedom in any way possible however I never thought that killing someone would lead to you becoming a slave to your mind. Before I had a chance to reply, a guard shouted at my brother:
"Hey, you with the ginger hair!" Shouted the Guard
"Yes sir?" Replied my brother
"Do you want to go in the gas chamber?" asked the guard whilst grinning menacingly.
As I watched this encounter unfold, I suddenly remembered a hunting trip I went on with my father. My father held out some food in his hands and the rabbit came to my father, but before the rabbit could even touch the food, my father stabbed it in the neck. I stood there and watched as the rabbit's blood flowed all over my father's hands and onto the ground. That was the first time in my life I saw death and it shook me to my very core. Just like that, with a simple stab, the rabbit was dead, no longer alive, no longer scared of predators hunting it, no longer scared that it was going to starve, it was finally free of all those things. In that same moment, I also assumed death was the ultimate freedom, yet I never expanded or acted upon that thought and it became dormant in the back of my head.
"No sir. I apologize for not working as hard as I could" Replied my brother
I knew that these words were submissive but when my brother said them, they didn't feel or sound submissive. I suppose the guard thought the same thing because immediately after my brother said those words, the guard kicked him in the face and then in the ribs and knocked him to the ground. I was about to intervene but then my brother looked at me, it was as if he was trying to tell me to not intervene or to just let it be. So, I stood back and watched as the guard beat my brother for no reason at all. The funny thing is my brother never even screamed or made a noise, he took it, he took all that unexpected abuse with a smile. After the guard beat my brother, he said to him:
"Filthy Jew, you're lucky you caught me in a good mood, otherwise I would've ordered you to go to the gas chamber."
"Yes sir, and I'm sorry" Replied my brother whilst coughing up blood and crying.
Ironically, that Guard was the camp overseer himself, Otto Schwarze. I hated seeing my brother that way, I hated seeing anyone that way, so helpless just like the Rabbit my father killed. But I knew that if I was to help him then I was also going to get beat, perhaps that is why my brother didn't let me help him. This event made my resentment grow even larger and larger. Right before I could go back to work, I and Marcus saw Malcolm dancing for one of the guards. He was jumping up and down shaking his hips and doing all that nonsense. If anything, seeing him do that was worse than seeing Marcus get beat. At least Marcus had pride, but Malcolm was a whole different breed.