---I wrote this after I saw the opening scene in X men 1, and I wondered how the suffering child had turned into the cold calculating magneto. This was what i came up with.
---Disclaimer, i dont own X men or anything in it
Making a Villain
The mud, it was everywhere. Why did there have to be so much mud? I was trudging through an endless sea of mud. My parents were walking with me. I could feel my mothers arm clutching mine; she was holding it very tightly. My father was on my other side, limping along stoically. He had been hurt when they came for us. Oh how I hated them, the ones with black shirts and fancy boots. They called themselves Nazis. Every one of them was a monster.
Of course, they hated us as well. I never really understood why. What had Jews ever done to any of them? It didn't make sense, but that didn't stop it happening. The surveys to find out how many of us there were, the badges, to ensure everyone one could see that we were the despised Jews. And of course, finally the 'relocations'. That was always what they called it, we all knew what it meant of course, I was only fourteen and even I knew what it meant. We were being disappeared, the same way that anyone who spoke out against them was being disappeared.
We were marched down a path, bordered with barbed wire, as if any of us would have run when there were guards with machine guns. I could feel the mud oozing into my shoes with each step. It was cold. We were approaching the gates. They were splitting the slowly marching crowd down the middle. A man in a black uniform, with shiny silver bits all over it. He had blonde hair, and blue eyes. I glared at him in hatred; he was everything wrong with the world. Everything I hated about the Nazi's. He, who was given power over us, put above us. And why? Because he was the 'superior' race. I hated him.
As we approached the man my mother put her arm protectively around me. As if she could stop those men from harming me if they wanted to. I loved her for doing that. For a thousand different ways that she had helped me and made me feel better as I grew up. I loved my father too, he had never been very affectionate, but I knew he loved me. He had always been stern, but he let his feelings show with small gestures. Little gifts he would bring home to me, a bar of chocolate once, five tin soldiers another time. I loved him for every word of gruff encouragement he had given me.
They were splitting the crowd, not just down the middle, but into young and old. Buffeted by the crowd, and dragged by one of the guards, I lost my grip on my mothers arm. I could hear her pleading with the guards and crying my name. What was I supposed to do, my father had always said to not try to resist. That all it would do was make them angry and that we couldn't afford that. In my confusion I was pushed down the other path to my mum and dad. The crowds of people and the terrible confusion became too much. I stumbled into a hollow in the side of a building. Taking shelter under the overhang, I looked back seeking my parents. I could see them, my mother screeching "Eric! Eric!" My name. My father trying to silence her, before she drew the attention of the guards.
I made my decision; I would not lose my parents. The only two people in the world who loved me and I would not lose them. I ran back into the crowd. These people mindlessly trudging along, blocking my way. How could they not understand how important it was that I get back to my parents? These idiotic people were slowing me down too much; the guards were closing the gate. I could see my parents on the other side. My mother with her hand outstretched towards me. I cried out to her as I ran towards the now closed gates.
One of the guards grabbed me. NO! I had to reach my mother. I was starting to feel light headed. My hand outstretched toward her, as though if I strained hard enough I could make the distance between us disappear. The gate. It was the gate that was keeping me from her; I had to open the gate! I had to get back. Tears coursed down my face as I reached. There were two guards holding me now, not that that was important. They were unimportant compared to the overwhelming need to get through the gate. I felt a shudder through my body. As though a dam had broken and 'something' had poured into me. I could feel the gate. Every particle of that terrible, steel gate. I twisted them, wrenched at them, felt as I desperately pulled that gate towards me. But it wasn't the gate that was moving, it was me. Inch by inch I was getting closer to it. Despite all that those wretched guards could do I was winning. I would get through this gate. I would reach my mother and everything would be alright again.
I barely even saw the forth guard come around in front of me. I was too focused on ripping the molecules of the gate apart. Twisting the bars, bending and buckling the strong steel framework. The tears had blurred my eyes too much; I didn't see the guard's rifle smash towards me. Didn't see it until the butt smacked into my head. Blackness clawed at my mind. No! I had to keep trying. Had to keep . . . Had to. . .
---please review, I would really appreciate any feedback people have on this. Like it? Hate it? i still want to know please
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