Hiya! I'm back with a new story! I've recently become extremely obsessed with X-Men: First Class. Blame YamiHeart for that. It's all her fault. Anyways, I wanted to write a story about Erik's past, in the concentration camp. For parts of the story, the credit goes to both YamiHeart and I, since some parts are from our role plays. Weird shit happens at my house at four in the morning when you have two sleep deprived teenage girls who enjoy putting characters through extreme pain. Some of the torture ideas are YamiHeart's, most are mine. I had the fortune of taking a trip to England recently, and gleaned some wonderful torture ideas from the Tower of London. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the story!
Rated M for intense violence and controversial topics.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. They are all fictional, with the exception of a few well known historical figures. Where real life historical figures do appear, all incidents and dialogues are entirely fictional.
The views and opinions expressed in this story are those of the characters and do not necessarily reflect the view or position of the author.
14-year-old Erik Lensherr lay on his back in the hard, cold bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. His face was still wet with tears, he throat raw from screaming. Though he'd done it without pause, without meaning to, the amount of force and energy he had exerted to move all of the metal in the room had exhausted him.
But no matter how exhausted he may have been, he could not sleep.
Every time he let his eyes slide shut, even for a moment, he would hear the crack of the gun, the dull thud of his mother's lifeless body hitting the floor, his own scream of grief, Klaus Schmidt's delighted laughter as metal objects crumpled and banged around the room.
Phrases swirled through Erik's mind: We're going to have so much fun together…I'm going to count to three. You move the coin, or I pull the trigger…Yes! Wonderful!
Everything is all right.
Ha! Erik rolled over onto his side, his face hard, his green-gray eyes blazing. His mother had lied to him. Everything was not all right. Nothing was all right. Erik was quite confident nothing would be all right for a very, very long time.
Erik closed his eyes, longing to be back home, in his own bed. Maybe this was all a dream. A horrible, horrible dream. Yes, that was it. In a moment, his mother would come up the stairs, shouting for him to get up, it was time for breakfast.
Erik squeezed his eyes shut tighter, then opened them, almost believing his fantasy could be true. His eyes were met with barren cracked concrete walls, mold creeping along them, dirty water dripping down. He sighed heavily. This wasn't a dream, and it wasn't going away.
Why was this happening? What had Erik done to deserve this? Erik couldn't make sense of these Nazis. How could they hate someone enough to put them through hell just because they were Jewish? What was so bad about that? It was just a religion. It shouldn't matter, so why did it?
And this strange... thing that was happening to Erik. Before he'd been taken from his parents, he hadn't known he could control metal. If that was indeed what it was. It seemed to be; when Erik had broken down in the office, completely dismantling the place, only metal things had moved. Why? Why was this happening? It wasn't fair! Erik hadn't asked to be different!
Erik's thoughts trailed to Klaus Schmidt. Who was that man? How could be so cruel as to kill an innocent woman? And most importantly, what was he going to do to Erik now?
As if the boy's thoughts had summoned the Nazi, Erik could suddenly hear soft footsteps approaching. He heard the door to the dank room open, and three people entered. Erik was still facing the wall, and so couldn't see who had entered. He shot a quick glance behind him, confirming that it was Klaus and two guards, before quickly looking back at the wall, his back turned resolutely to the Nazis.
"Erik!" Klaus cried cheerfully. Erik could hear the footsteps approach, then halt at the edge of his bed. "How are you feeling?"
Erik said nothing.
"Now, now, now, Erik," Klaus chided sternly. "It's rude to ignore someone superior to you when they ask you a question. Let's try this again, shall we? How are you feeling, Erik?"
For a moment, Erik remained silent. When he did speak, his voice was hard and cold. "How do you think I am feeling, mein Herr?"
Erik could almost sense the smile on Klaus's face as he spoke. "Well, I hope you'll feel better in the morning. Tomorrow, we're going to meet a very special friend of mine.
Erik's body stiffened and his heart seized up in fear at the words. Any friend of Klaus's could be nothing but cruel and horrible.
"My friend, like me, is very interested in your ability," Klaus continued amiably. "We both want to help you become stronger."
Klaus smiled as he stood, patting Erik's shoulder. "Rest now," he said. "You're going to have so much fun with Josef tomorrow."
With that, he turned, and left the room with the two guards, leaving Erik frozen on the bed. Josef? Who was Josef? Was he a Nazi? A soldier? A doctor? Would he be like Klaus?
At least this Josef couldn't be as sadistic as Klaus, right?
Erik had no idea.
Can anyone guess who the Josef is? Anyone? Anyone? No cheating, YamiHeart, you already know. Anyone else? Kudos to whoever can guess who Josef is! Hint: think Auschwitz.
Review? Pwease? I'll love you forever if you do.