Everything about him was beautiful. I remember the way his mouth would slightly curl up at the corners when he was happy. They rarely did that, after a few weeks in the camp. I could see him smile at me though. He tried to sneak a few in a day, not wanting to be caught.
I smiled at him too. One of my men asked me once why I was beaming. I hadn't realized how big of a smile I was wearing when I looked at him. My duty was to kill these men. To beat them and torture them, because to us they are dirt. I couldn't possibly smile at them. I stopped my beaming and got back to work.
I love him. Never, could I hurt him. Not once, did I either. That was my mistake. Yet, every blow that I took for him, I'm glad I did. Nothing pays off in the end, it seems. All the hard work and misery we go through to get what we want… Well, we never really get it, do we?
