Wow, my first fic. Well, I didn't find anything for The Book Thief on here, which is my favorite book ever, so I decided to do a little Max Vandenburg POV. I'm very pleased with it!
It continues to amaze me, you know? In fact, it still does. Thirteen presents from a girl with yellow hair like the sun.
She asked me if the book that saved my life was any good. I had nodded. I couldn't give it to her. Good God. What if I had? That would be the equivalent of me just standing in the street in broad daylight, yelling "HERE I AM! COME AND TAKE ME AWAY!" I refused to do so. She would receive something else. I promise you that, she would receive something from me before I die.
I've seen a look on her face before. Not of intense concentration as she paints words on the wall, but a question. She would glance at me. I pretended not to see the glance, but years of being cautious teaches you how to know. It was a simple question. Something that I can't blame her for wondering. Something I had been wondering for a long time. Just a mere 'who' question. Even I didn't know the answer to it.
Who the hell are they?
Why do these people keep me here? After all, it would be so much easier to throw me on the streets. Reject me. Then, my conscience would be at ease. Wouldn't it? Would it? Maybe. If I had never shown up, then their lives would be easier. There would be more food for them. What am I, but a lonely pathetic Jew? I've caused more problems for these people than I can fix. Just today, Hans fed a Jew. They'll search him, his house. Then they'll find me. My most concern is for her. She's been so kind, and that would be the way I pay her back for her kindness? If I was her, I'd hate me. I do hate me. I am a selfish human.
No. Not a human. I am not a human.
I am a selfish Jew.
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