Hi guys! I'm getting back in the habit of updating :D I actually like this chapter a lot! This chapter is kinda like a 'part 1 of 2', so stay tuned! Thanks to heartandstar101, and to WritingIsAPoison, cause they both were A LOT of help for this chappie! Hope you guys like it!
Let's see if I can top the reviews from the last chapter ;) thats 16, fyi :D
"What's going on?" I asked, trying to maneuver through the crowd of people. A large commotion was gathered around the entry area to the camp, and I had absolutely no idea what on earth was going on. Of course, nobody answered my question as people tried to block my way. It was unbelievable how bitter people could still be, weeks later after the incident.
I had let my mind temporarily forget about him, as there was no need to remember him at the moment. I had resorted to my old attitude, the one where rules and following them were my top priority. I didn't talk to any of my old friends, much less look at them. Eliana had killed herself anyways, unable to take it anymore in the camp. It happened merely over a week ago, right after dinner. I found her in the barrack on her bed, turned on her side. I had figured she was merely grieving over the loss of her brothers, but upon further inspection a thin rope was tied around her neck. All I could do was gasp in horror and lower my head, then head to alert the others. Something of this sort wasn't out of the ordinary. Deaths were common. I didn't blame her for wanting to kill herself, she'd already lost her child, her littlest sister, and recently her brothers-who were killed on account of getting sick-and after my shunning, she had no one left but her unsupportive mother to look after her. I understood where she had been coming from; although my temptation to kill myself was lessened, it was still there.
Barely making it through the crowd of people, I came to see a boxcar, and a sudden sense of nostalgia took over. Those were the same boxcars that had delivered my mother and everybody else to the camp, so long ago. Fighting back the deja-vu, I was greeted with a familiar scene, german soldiers ordering around the new prisoners, making them split into two sections. I knew what was to be their fate, I had been there myself and lived through the terror; the memory still sharp as stone.
"Hey! Zis isn't fair! My modzer!" A girl from the new shipment cried out in an accent, being dragged off by a soldier to where she was supposed to be standing. Wide eyed, I stared at the girl, charmed by her beauty that would soon be gone. She was delicate and slim, body like a bird's. Her hair was ebony and reached her hips in glorious curls, prettier than I could have ever hoped my hair to be. I was envious of her features, her beauty, and her grace; all that had been stolen from me. No matter, I reminded myself, all of it would be taken away within a matter of minutes.
"She's already dead. Now follow directions," the guard ordered, throwing her in a silently crying heap with the other women. Feeling remorse for this girl, I wanted to warn her of what was to come, so she would've been less frightened. I wanted to explain the rules to her, give her everything I would have killed to know on my first day. But we were separated by a fence, and if I ever was to see her again, it would be too late. Tearing myself away from the sight, I began to head back to the kitchen, going to resume my chores before the guards saw this whole commotion and begin to inflict punishments. God knows that was the last thing I needed on my plate.
Work was grueling as usual, but my mind stayed on task, and it was completed. The two girls that had previously worked here were now dead, as one had not followed directions, and the other died from disease. So now, I was alone in the kitchen. All the work left to me to complete. Not that I had complained about it, for who was there to complain to? My mother ignored me, as she had disinherited me and disclaimed I was ever her daughter, all my friends were dead, and they rest of the woman shunned me. Besides, if I was to be caught complaining, there would be serious consequences. So I simply worked without a word and accomplished the tasks without a complaint.
Hours later, after dinner, I walked to my barrack silently, rubbing the purple blotches on my bony wrist. I had slipped and fallen upon washing the floors, and landed on my wrist in an attempt to catch my fall. Opening the creaky door to the barracks with my good hand, a familiar and nostalgic sight greeted me. New girls and women on their beds, sobbing into their pillows while we, the experienced ones, comforted them on their first night. Wanting to go comfort them myself, I was halted when women turned to glare their heads at me, making me leave to the retreat of my own bunk. Passing by the shelves, I noticed that there was an abundance of new people. I looked for the beautiful girl I had seen earlier, but to no avail. I climbed upon my shelf and lay there, listening to the familiar sounding sobs and wails; but one sounded different.
"Mon maman, mon maman," a young voice sobbed, speaking in a foreign tongue. Her voice was close, and it didn't take me long to figure out that she was right on top of me. Nobody comforted her, most likely because she was too quiet to even hear, and the others were getting more attention. Feeling pity for this neglected girl, I climbed upon her shelf and placed a hand gently upon her back, startling her from her misery. She lifted her shorn head and looked straight at me with teary, brown eyes. It was the girl from before, the one that had once been so beautiful. Now she was dressed in rags, very similar to my own, I noticed upon looking down at my own clothes, and her appearance was ruined in less than a couple of hours.
Without hesitation I took her in my arms and let her cry it all out, she needed it. My mother was here for me when I was forced to spend my first night here, and this girl needed somebody for her. I held her for quite a while before anybody noticed. It was my mother that noticed her and me first, climbing on her bunk next to me and removing her from my arms and giving me a cold glare that clearly stated 'leave. You aren't needed anymore.' More women came up to the girl's shelf upon noticing her, and suddenly it was crowded. Feeling unwanted, I climbed back down to my shelf, trying to listen in to the conversation.
"Darling, what's the matter?" my mother asked her quietly, sounding like the girl was her daughter instead of the one who she just kicked off the shelf.
"Mon maman," she sobbed, the unfamiliar word tingling in my senses.
"Yes Sweetheart. Do you speak english?" A moment was spent in silence before she cleared her throat and sniffled.
"My, my modzer," she spoke with her light accent, making it a bit hard to understand what she was saying. I strained my ears to hear more and to understand exactly what had happened to the girl's mother. "She..she fell asleep on ze train, and ze guard wouldn't let me go w-wake her up when we got off. It was so h-horrible," she concluded, breaking down into her sobs again. I figured her mother had died on the train ride to the camp, suffocated from the lack of air. My mother had described it to me one night, and I had been horrified and very grateful that I had taken the truck ride with Duncan.
"What country did you come from?" a woman asked, much to my satisfaction.
"France. We surrendered to ze Germans, and zey took all ze gypsies, ze jews, and everyone who dared rebel against zem. My modzer refused to stay there, and she forced me to come along with her. Next zing I knew, we were dragged into a truck and nearly suffocated for dzree days," she recounted, what sounded like a somewhat familiar story.
"We know Sweetheart, we know," my mother soothed, and all the other women agreed, trying to comfort her. I bit back tears, and closed my eyes, not wanting to hear anymore of this. How could my own mother treat a stranger with more love and compassion than her own daughter? I managed to doze off for a little while before a rough hand jerked me awake.
"Wake up, now. You're switching shelves with Jacqueline," a cold, familiar voice spoke, shaking me again with her thin, rough hands. I quickly recognized the speaker to be my mother and I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes devoid of sleep.
"W-who?" I stuttered, quite confused. Who was this Jacqueline? And why did I need to switch shelves with her? I liked my shelf just fine. My mother sighed impatiently and gave a reassuring look to the familiar french girl who stood next to her, looking timid and scared as a mouse. She looked between my mother and I as if she didn't recognize the relationship between us.
"Jacqueline," my mother spoke, the name sounding melodic and exotic by her tongue. She pointed to the girl next to her as my eyes widened.
"W-what? Why?" Why did I need to switch shelves with her? Wasn't her own just fine? It was all the same, no one more comfortable than the other.
"Jacqueline needs a mother to be with her, and I've offered to take her place. She needs to be closer to me. Now get up." I was appalled by this statement, a cold numbness spread through my body and prevented me to move. This all had to be a dream, on of my regularly occurring nightmares. I just had to remove myself from it. I grabbed whatever fleshy part was left on my arm and pinched it between my forefinger and my thumb so hard it became excruciatingly painful.
"B-but, you're my mother! And I'm scared of heights! This is my bed, I was here for months!" I choked, throwing out whatever I could to enable me to stay. Truthfully, I was too appalled and to tired to put up a strong argument. The so called 'Jacqueline' looked uncomfortable and quite shocked as she looked from my mother to me. My mother was unrepentant and scowled at me, displaying no hint of forgiveness.
"Too bad. Now switch shelves." Reluctantly, I grabbed my sweater and climbed up to what had used to be Jacqueline's shelf. Now cold and unwelcoming, the shelf was an exact replica of my mother's behavior towards me. How could she replace me with someone she had just met? Silent tears ran down my face as I tried to make myself more comfortable to the unfamiliar shelf.
How could she? My own mother. Despite pitying Jacqueline earlier, I couldn't help but feel greatly envious that she had stolen my mother from me in only a few mere hours. What was so special about this girl? What did she have that I didn't?
My mother.
o 0 O 0 o
"I am so sorry, Courtney," Jacqueline apologized for the millionth time, scrubbing the floors alongside me in the kitchen. Her and four other girls had been assigned to kitchen duty, much to both my enjoyment and annoyance. Of course she wouldn't know that she stole my mother from me; but the girl was stealing everybody with her charm and elocution, and it was barely her fourth day here! I admit, I was increasingly jealous of her beauty; despite her hair being gone, she remained quite a charming beauty, her brown eyes spreading warmness and comfort to anyone who crossed her path. I, on the other hand, had no beauty; my hair, which was my best feature, was gone, my eyes displayed a gaunt, shallow look, and my body was bony and scrawny. How was it fair that everyone liked her better? How was it fair that she was everything I wished I could be?
Ignoring her continuous apologies, I kept scrubbing the floors until my knuckles were red. At least there was one thing that would always stay the same; my work, and my visits with Duncan. He was coming back any day now, and despite my mutual hatred for him, I yearned to tell him what was bothering me. Of course, I would probably receive a long lecture, and a punishment for it later, but it was still something I wanted to do.
SInce I was already thinking about my upcoming visit to Duncan, I let my mind wander away from Jacqueline's melodic voice and began to think about just him. Things had gratefully cooled down between us, not as it was before, but better all the same. He realized that I had learned my lesson well, and started to just talk to me again. Let's see if the infamous Jacqueline could take that from me. I was his, and he was mine, and absolutely nothing, or nobody, to be more precise, could take that title away from me.
With that happy thought in mind, I continued to work, trying to ignore Jacqueline with full pleasure. It was hard though; apparently, Jacqueline was an expert at making the soup and cleaning the kitchen, right off the bat. It was hard to keep from rolling my eyes or growling every single time she did something perfectly right or every single time she got a comment from somebody else. By the time the guard was escorting me to go see Duncan, I had half a mind to sprint to his quarters. But I had to be patient and follow the rules, I wanted to be rewarded. By the time I was in Duncan's arms, I was practically jumping. He knew something was up, but kept torturing me, keeping me in the embrace for longer than necessary.
"Alright Prinzessin, you've been good. You may talk," he finally said, letting go of me, sitting on the bed, and patting his lap, my signal to come and sit. Only after I sat on his lap and kissed his cheeks multiple times did I know that it was really okay to talk to him. I knew what he liked, and I was only proven more correct when he let out a groan and wrapped his arms around my waist.
"I missed you, Prinzessin." I smiled, feeling better than I had all week. I felt glad to know that he missed me, another step into complete forgiveness. The statement made small butterflies erupt in my stomach and I smiled earnestly, cradling his cheek in my hand.
"I missed you too," I admitted, knowing it was the truth. I did miss him. I missed the way I was his, and he was mine, and that stupid Jacqueline would never enter our world. So, maybe the way I missed him was a bit selfish, and only in competition with Jacqueline, but deep inside there was more. I honestly had missed his company. I didn't miss his punishments, but I missed the way his eyes lit up a tiny bit every time I came into his room. I missed his blunt, but true accusations. I missed the way he hugged me so tightly I thought my bones would break. I truly was his, and to an extent, he was mine.
"Now, what's been happening?" he asked, breaking me out of my peaceful stupor. Blinking and blushing slightly, I looked up at him, the knowing look in his eyes telling me that he knew exactly what or more like, who, I was thinking about. Turning my head away from his entrancing eyes, I sighed, twirling a loose thread from my dress before starting to ramble.
"Well, I had the kitchen to myself for a little while before Eliana killed herself, and my mother's treating me like trash, and I slipped and sprained my wrist a couple of days ago, and I accidentally stumbled out of line two days ago, so a guard gave me ten lashes for it and-"
"Prinzessin," he cut me off, grabbing my chin and forcing my ramble of pointless news to stop. "One statement at a time. So, let me see if I got everything. A friend of yours killed herself, your mother is disrespecting you, you sprained your wrist and you got whipped?" I nodded slowly, seeing that he had retained everything that I had just said with clear accuracy. I knew that it had taken him a couple of months to acquire this skill, what with all the rambling I had done in the past. With a sigh he lifted me off his lap and stood, going to his drawers and ruffling through them before pulling out a first aid kit. As if it was routine, I stood as well and turned around, wordlessly beginning to take off my clothes, then holding my dress to my breasts and laying face-down on the bed. He began to apply the medication to the healing wounds, not saying a word until about halfway through.
"Now, tell me what's really wrong. I can tell you're hiding something." Damn it. The damned German could read me like a book after a couple of months of carefully observing my movements and actions. Sighing frustratedly, I let out a groan but decided it would be best to talk.
"A new shipment came in a couple of days ago."
"And? Something about this is making you truly upset." I nodded, feeling my hatred for the putrid, insanely overbearing girl rise up again.
"There's this new girl, and she's perfect. She's beautiful, she's kind, she does all the hard work without any complaint, and it's absolutely sickening. Everybody likes her! Even my mother likes her more! She's treating Jacqueline like she's her own daughter, instead of me! She's my replacement, I'm sure of it," I shot out, breathing heavily. I soon felt his hand on my lower back, rubbing it gently, but with a firmness that was entirely soothing.
"So, Jacqueline's her name? She must be from France. That's where I was these past couple of days; we were clearing out France of all the Jews, and the Gypsies, and whoever else." I nodded, not having anything else to say. He trailed his fingers down my legs, an action that made me involuntarily shiver.
"Don't worry about it, Prinzessin. Who cares about everybody else? They'll probably all die within a couple of months anyways. And if your mother keeps on treating you like crap, I will personally make sure that she's first in line to go to the gas chambers." Eyes going wide, I started to breathe shallowly, wondering if he would really do such a thing. It took me a good minute before realizing this was his way of offering consolation and making me feel better. Smiling softly, I shook my head, knowing he couldn't see.
"Don't do that. She's my mother, and though she hates me, I love her, and I want her with me, in a way." It was the truth; although I was deeply wounded by my mother's actions, I did still love her, and wanted her in plain sight, just so I would know that she was okay. If a person didn't love their mother, they had nothing left to live for in life.
"Fine. But the minute you give me permission... " he trailed off, before clearing his throat and continuing again. "None of those people, or the behaviors they emit to you, matter. All that matters is you, your health, the work you do, and me. Understood?" I couldn't help but smile and nod, feeling reassured. "I can't hear you, Prinzessin. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Sir." That was all he needed to tear the dress away from my chest and to push his mouth on mine feverishly. "Please, Sir. Don't...please don't," I whimpered, feeling uncomfortable, yet knowing what this night would come to.
"No.I need to cement the deal. I need to make sure that you don't disobey." Feeling tears rise up in my eyes again, I could do nothing but submit myself to him, the only things I felt I could enjoy were his rough kisses upon my mouth.
o 0 O 0 o
"Courtney, could you help me wiz zis soup? I honestly can not seem to peel potatoes right." Cringing at the way Jacqueline's voice sounded so melodic and sweet, and so unlike my slightly nasal one, I reluctantly stood and went over to the counter, grabbing a potato and a peeler and starting to peel them wordlessly. An entire week at camp, and she still didn't know how to peel potatoes, how pathetic. Why was I even helping her? I should have ignored her and either let her learn on her own, or be killed off because she didn't know how to handle a simple task. But that would never happen to the precious Jacqueline; the other girls would probably teach her before she could even ask, and then scrutinize me with their ferocious glares for betraying their lovely Jacqueline.
"Oh zank you so much! I 'ave no idea what I would do wizout you," she thanked profusely, struggling to peel potatoes beside me. She thought she was so perfect, it sickened me to a large extent. And the others thought she was so cute, the way she was like a little maid, knowing how to do everything and anything without anybody's help. She wouldn't last, I tried to remind myself. Or, at least that was what I was hoping to happen. Maybe Duncan would kill her off for me. Scolding myself for thinking like that, I reminded myself that he would probably lecture me again.
"Don't thank, just watch, and learn." She was oblivious to my tone of voice and attitude, and did as I commanded. I didn't know why she saw me as a friend, I'd been nothing but cold to her since that one night. Either she was really desperate for friends, or she was really lacking of a proper brain.
Things went pretty quiet after that, until some strange noises were coming from the outside. Not bothering to turn around, as I knew it wasn't my place, I kept peeling the potatoes. That is, I continued peeling until Jacqueline nudged me in the side. About to turn around and yell at her for doing such a thing, I noticed the worried yet repulsed look on her face. She pointed to the window, and upon following the direction of her finger I noticed a group of guards outside the window, snickering and staring at us. Now repulsed myself, I turned back around and returned to my potatoes, knowing that I could do nothing about it if I wanted to remain punishment, or death free.
"Aren't you going to do somezing about it, Courtney?" I shook my head no, not even looking at her. Of course I could do nothing about it! Hadn't she learned that by now? She'd been here for a week, hadn't somebody taught her the rules?
"And why not?" she questioned after my blatant response. It was such an innocent question, yet I couldn't help but internally reprimand her for it. What a naive, foolish girl. If I dared say something about it, it could cost me my life. Although, telling her to do something about it was a tempting suggestion.
"Because. Now, continue to make dinner unless you want to get in trouble." She huffed and continued to mangle the poor potatoes. But the guards didn't leave. In fact, the came inside and started to make vulgar comments. I simply ignored them, and the pathetic, wimpy looks Jacqueline shot me.
"What's going on here?" a voice a recognized all too well asked. Jacqueline and I both turned around, hoping that this authority figure would stop the ogling from the other german guards. But Duncan wasn't looking at me, he was looking entirely at Jacqueline. He gave her the same look he gave me when we were alone, only much kinder, and as if he were much more attracted to her. This couldn't be happening. Especially not after last night. Tears were building up in my eyes, watching the two of them, but I refused to let any of them fall. How could this have happened to me? Before I could stop myself I had let out a small whimper and I had dropped the porcelain bowl of potatoes, the glass shattering everywhere and all the potatoes, now ruined as the floors hadn't been washed yet, rolled about everywhere.
Before I knew what was happening about three pairs of rough arms were clutching me and pulling me outside. I heard Jacqueline scream, but it was no use. Nobody could stop the guards. I closed my eyes and prayed silently, hoping with all my heart that I wouldn't be dragged off to the gas chambers. I heard some rough german being spoken, and I was dropped to the ground for a second before only one pair of rough arms were clutching my shoulders tightly.
"What was that?" Duncan growled, spinning me around furiously and glaring down at me with cold eyes.
"I-I'm sorry..b-but you, and Jacqueline-"
"So that was Jacqueline? She is really pretty...and she's not a jew..." he trailed off, staring blankly into space, not really looking at me anymore. I couldn't believe it, he was falling for her too! How could he? Why was I feeling this way in the first place? Duncan was a no good soldier, he should mean nothing to me. In fact, I should be glad that he was taking interest in a different girl. He would leave me alone, and I would be free. But I didn't feel that way, and I didn't know why. Upon taking notice of me again, he scowled and shook his head, most likely clearing his mind.
"Just, go back to work. Clean up the mess you made, and try to be a good girl, alright?" I could barely nod mutely as he kissed my cheek and walked away. I walked back to the kitchen, feeling numb as hell. What had just happened? Jacqueline hugged me with joy, but I couldn't pay attention to her. Work was a blur, I could barely remember anything except for the sharp moment when Duncan stared into Jacqueline's eyes. He couldn't be attracted to her, he just couldn't. It wasn't fair, he's mine. Mine and not hers. I was able to calm myself down and force myself to look at reality. He was probably just stunned by her beauty, everybody was. Even I was at first. Relaxing in the slightest, I walked to my barracks, looking forward to seeing Duncan.
I would let him hug me until my bones would break, and then I would kiss him all over, showing him how much I craved his company. After some idle talk he would force me down on his bed and rape me, despite my weak protests. Maybe today I wouldn't protest; I needed, no, I craved his attention. I sat on my shelf, prepared to wait the few minutes it would take for the guard to come in and escort me. By the time the door barged I was ready to jump off my shelf, but I waited patiently.
"Commander Duncan wishes to see number 2947260 in his quarters immediately." My face turned blank as my body froze. That wasn't my number; it was nowhere close to my number. I watched with wide eyes as Jacqueline hesitantly walked to the door, and the soldier roughly tugged her out. I waited for hours, hopeful that another guard would come in and send me to Duncan. But no guard came. And Jacqueline didn't come back within a couple of minutes, or even an hour. But I remained waiting until long after the lights were out and everybody was asleep. No guard was coming for me. Duncan wouldn't see me tonight.
Feeling as if my heart weighed over thousands of kilograms, I moved myself into a sleeping position on my shelf, relieving myself of a couple of bitter tears. What could this mean? He wanted to see Jacqueline instead of me; he liked her better. She had managed to take him away from me, the one think I was certain she couldn't take away. Reprimanding myself felt like a gigantic slap to my face; shouldn't I have been happy? I was free of Duncan! He didn't want to see me anymore! I didn't have to be raped or beat up anymore! I should be happy, no, ecstatic.
But for some reason, I wasn't. For some reason, it hurt more than anything in the world. It hurt more than the first time Duncan had hit me. It hurt more than the first time I'd gotten whipped. It hurt more than my mother's betrayal, and it even hurt more than the first time Duncan had raped me. To prove my point, the tears ran faster and harder down my face, and I had to make a large effort to remain quiet.
What did this hurt mean? I couldn't be attracted to him, I couldn't. It would be a betrayal to everything I'd been raised to be against. It would betray my family, my morals, my ethics, my religion, and everything that I had ever said about him in the first place. Besides, I was a Jew, and he was a German; he would never see anything more of me other than scum. So, therefore, I could not be attracted to Duncan.
But the sinking feeling in my gut told me the exact opposite.