Hello and welcome! I'm so excited to share this story with you all! I'll start off with a mandatory exclaimer that I don't own or have any rights to Xmen, which means it's characters and events. I own my OC Zezelia and her alone. Quick explanation on this chapter….the italicized writing indicates them speaking in German! Please let me know if you end up enjoying this story! Xoxo - NickyLynn
Germany – 1930's
"Mama?" A small girl asks unsurely, gripping tightly with her small, gloved hand onto her mother's much larger one. Confusion swirls around the girl's mind as she is led through an unfamiliar building. Little light guides their way, a sheen of moisture covers the brick walls and a foul smell fills the air, making the small girl's nose crinkle in disgust.
"Where are we Mama?" the girl asks again, looking up to her mother as uneasiness fills her stomach. Her mother though, refuses to acknowledge the young girl's question. Instead, she keeps her mouth shut tightly in a thin line and her eyes glued to the back of the man who leads them through the corridor.
The girl keeps hurrying along, doing her best to keep up with the adults' much wider strides. She pushes the uneasiness down, while tightening her grip on her mother's hand. Afterall, her mother would keep her safe, wouldn't she? They soon were ushered through a set of double doors that led to a large office area, full of books, papers and all sorts of instruments and devices that the young child could not identify. A tall man stood from behind his desk upon their arrival, making his way around the wooden slab to greet them with his hands folded behind his back.
"Hello." He greeted the woman. "You must be Lydia. It's a pleasure to meet you." He said, flashing her what was meant to be a friendly smile.
"Yes. Thank you for seeing us." The woman responded, nodding her head ever so slightly, her short brown curls bobbing as she did so.
"And this must be your daughter." He said, then directing his attention to the small girl standing slightly behind her mother's legs. "What is your name, darling?" he asked her, doing his best to give her an encouraging smile.
Shyness overtook the girl and she found it hard to even make eye contact with the man, let alone form a response. Her mother, to her dismay, pushed her out from behind the faux safety of her legs and closer to the man. "Answer the man." She told her, giving the back of her shoulder a pat to encourage her.
"It's okay." The man told her, sensing her uneasiness. He crouched down until he was eye-level with her. "My name is Klaus Schmidt." He told her.
"Zezelia." The girl finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.
The man's mouth stretched wider. "What a beautiful name, for a beautiful girl."
The girl's cheeks burned red at the compliment, not knowing how to react to the strange man.
"Zezelia, your mother tells me that you have gotten in trouble at school recently. That you hurt a boy." he says, standing back up to his full height.
Zezelia's eye's blow wide in fear as she whips her head up to look at her mother. "I-I didn't mean to!" she says, tears burning in her eyes.Is this why she was brought here, she wonders. Was she going to be punished for hurting that boy? "I swear I didn't mean to hurt him! We were just playing a game and I-I-" she tries explaining, her words rushed together.
The man holds up a hand to stop her. "It's alright, my dear. You're not in trouble." He tells her, reassuringly.
Zezelia swallows the lump that had built in her throat and lets out a shaky breath. She was glad to know she wasn't in trouble, but that only proved to confuse her more. If she wasn't in trouble-then why was she here?
"Quite the opposite, really." he told her, motioning to a man who stood at the door behind them, who left obediently with a nod. "I want you to show me, Zezelia. Show me what happened when you touched the boy."
The girl's confusion was quickly replaced with a spike of fear. "I can't!" she told him, hoping that he would understand. The doors opened again behind them, revealing the same man returning with another man in his grasp. His hands were wrapped around the man's upper arms, pulling him none-to-kindly into the room. He shoved the man onto his knees into the space between Zezelia, her mother and the man called Schmidt.
Zezelia looked at the man on his knees in front of her. His eyes were cast down and pale, refusing to look at her. "I don't understand." she said, looking around at the adults surrounding her.
Her mother took hold her Zezelia's hands and pulled off the glove she had been forced to wear since that day, careful not to make contact with her bare skin. Zezelia let out a gasp and stared up at her mother with fear laced eyes. "Mama?" she squeaked in fear.
"Show Mr. Schmidt what your touch can do Zezelia." Her mother's strong voice commanded.
"I-I don't want to hurt him." Zezelia sputtered, looking up to Schmidt, before staring at the man in front of her.
"I understand. But you see, this man is a bad man." He told her, stepping around the mentioned man and bringing his hand down onto her small, covered shoulder. "He doesn't deserve your kindness, my dear. He's no better than an animal."
She stared, unblinking at the man in front of her. He had not lifted his eyes from the floor, nor said anything to contradict what Schmidt had accused. He didn't look like a bad man. In fact, his small, thin frame didn't look intimidating to her at all. But then again, she herself didn't look dangerous either. She chewed on her lip, sweat beginning to bead on the tips her ungloved fingers.
"Zezelia!" her mother snapped from beside her.
Schmidt hushed the woman and leaned down to speak into Zezelia's ear. "Your mother has read you fables, yes?" he asked her. She nodded yes, eyes still glued onto the slumped form before her. "The stories of villains and monsters, that need to be vanquished by the heroes?" Again, she nodded. "There are real monsters in this world." He told her. "Real monsters who need real heroes to stop them-to punish them. That's my job. I punish the monsters of this world. And the man before you- he is no man. Make no mistake-he may look like just a man, but he is really a monster." he stood upright again, pushing her forward gently. "Will you help me punish this monster? Will you be a hero for me?"
She tore her gaze from the so-called monster and cast her eyes around the room. The two men and her mother seemed so sure. Perhaps this man really was a bad man-a monster. She hesitantly lifted her hand and reached across the short distance. Her hand paused an inch away from the man's face, her heart beating erratically inside her chest. Memories from when she had touched the boy at school flashing across her vision. The sunken face before her finally looked up to her. Brown eyes locked with her grey ones and she was struck by how empty they looked. Perhaps they really were the eyes of a monster. After all, they were suspiciously devoid of life. With a final deep breath, she steeled her mind and closed the minute distance between her fingertips and his flesh.
As soon as she made contact with his skin, she felt the familiar thrum of power throughout her veins and a scream tore from the man's throat as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body fell to the ground convulsing. Zezelia jumped back in fear and felt the tears roll down her cheeks as she watched the man wither and scream in pain for several seconds before he went silent, red streaks streaming out of his nose and over his lips and chin. The sound of Zezelia'a ragged breathing was the only sound filling the suddenly heavy room.
A wide smile split Klaus Schmidt's face in half as he stared at the small wonderous girl before him and the possibilities she brought. "Marvelous."
Six. She had been six years old when her mother brought her to the man named Schmidt and left her there. She had been so scared and confused and had screamed for her mother as the woman turned and left her behind, never so much as sparing her a second glance.
She was told that she was special, like him-that together, her and Schmidt were going to change the world. But she never felt special. Her "gift" as Schmidt called it, felt more like a curse than anything. A curse that caused her to live in the care of Klaus, constantly prodded, poked and tested like a lab rat instead of living in the safety of her home, being loved and nurtured by her parents.
She had been six years old when she was brought to the man called Schmidt. She was twelve now, and although she was, by definition, still a child, no one would think to classify her as such anymore. Her years in Schmidt's care had killed out the childhood wonder that had once filled her. Her grey eyes that were once filled with burning curiosity, were dulled and held the pain and knowledge that normally came with a much greater number of years than she possessed.
She stared down at her gloved hands as she sat on her small creaky bed. The images of faces that were burned into her memory, flashing through her mind. She had lost count of the number of people Schmidt had forced her to hurt throughout her time with him. She had tried to refuse him a few times, her morality conflicting harshly with the stories he'd try to weave for her the older she got, but she soon learned that refusal meant punishment for her. It started with stretches of isolation and meal reduction. When that stopped working, the ice showers started along with throwing her head under pools of water for long periods of time until she would be pulled back out gasping and choking for air until she complied. The punishments only got more creative from there the older and more resilient she got. Her back was marred with scars from seemingly endless whippings and burns. Whatever they could do to bring her pain until she broke down and did as she was told. She learned that life with Schmidt meant hurt or be hurt.
A knocking sound echoed around her small room, pulling her out of her thoughts and back into the present. She looked up at the door, which kept her locked within it as it swung open and one of the military men stepped in and beckoned her to him.
"Schmidt needs you." He told her was he swung the door open further. She got up from her bed and followed the soldier as he guided her through the halls she had memorized, being forced to live within them for more than a year. They had moved to this place when Schmidt had been given an advancement within the military and promised the chance to advance his goals if he worked with them. Auschwitz, it was called. Zezelia didn't know exactly what went on within these walls, but the echoes of screams that had become the background music of her life told her it was nothing good.
She obediently followed behind the solider until they came upon a room similar to hers. As they entered, she seen Schmidt standing with his arms behind his back in front of a boy no older than herself. His face was pale and stretched thin with fear and grief. He looked at her as she was ushered into the room and his eyes swept over her in confusion.
"Ah, my dear, there is someone I would like you to meet." Schmidt greeted her with false cheeriness. He held out his hand towards her, beckoning her to come to his side. She walked over to him, knowing it was best to do as she was expected. When she made it to his side, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turned her to face the boy. "This young man is Erik. You see, Erik is like us. He is special."
Zezelia looked over at Erik with wide eyes. He was like her? Did his touch bring pain like hers could? She looked down at his uncovered hands, her eyebrows lacing with confusion. "Like me?" she said thinking out loud.
"Zezelia, could you be a dear and give Mr. Schulz a touch for me? I think Erik needs a demonstration of what makes you so special." Schimdt said, gesturing to the soldier who had escorted her in.
She looked over at the man and she could see the surprise marring his face. His mouth fell open and he tried protesting before Schmidt stopped him with a threat of a worse fate. She had never been asked to hurt one of Schmidt's men before, and she would be lying if she said the idea wasn't alluring to her. The soldiers were bad men. All of them. This one in particular she knew well, too. Her back still burned with the marks he had left on her during her last punishment. Forgetting the boy in the room, she tore off her glove and strode over to the soldier who's eyes slid to Schmidt pleading silently for him to call her off. The call never came, however, and as she brought her hands to the sides of his head, enclosing around it, she leaned in closely and spoke quietly for only him to hear. "Scream for me." She whispered, repeating the same words he had said to her not too long ago, before she placed her hands around his face. A scream tore from his throat as he collapsed at her feet. She watched him in satisfaction for a few moments as he convulsed on the ground. Her smile instantly fell though as she turned and saw the look poor Erik was giving her. He was absolutely terrified.
"Now Erik," Schmidt said, drawing the attention back to him as two more soldiers came into the room and drug the unconscious man out with them. "The last time I asked you to move this coin," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a silver coin. "you failed." He lay the coin flat onto his palm, staring Erik down. "If you fail again, you, too, will come to know Zezelia's touch and the pain that it brings."
Zezelia looked up at Schmidt, her mouth falling open. He had never before asked her to hurt a child. Her conscious fought with itself at the command. This boy was so young. So innocent. He didn't deserve this and the idea of hurting him left her screaming inside.
Erik looked at her, his fear and confusion palpable. "I told you I can't!" he cried out.
"Zezelia." Schmidt said.
She knew what he wanted, but God she didn't want to. More than any other person she had been asked to place her touch upon, she knew this boy didn't deserve the consequences. She clenched her fists and swallowed, the fresh welts on her back thrumming with the reminder of what would await her if she refused. Her mind rocked back and forth between what she knew was right and not wanting to live through another punishment. Right and wrong. Pain and ease.
She sent him a silent apology as she made her decision and stepped towards him. She hated herself in that moment. She hated what she could do. She hated that she wasn't brave enough to say no. She hated that she was selfish enough to spare her pain in exchange for his own. She hated Schmidt. She hated it all.
"Wait!" Erik screamed, taking a step back and reaching out towards Schmidt and the coin. Zezelia halted in her spot and watched, hopefully, as the boy stared down at the coin with such intensity that shook through his whole body. Several seconds ticked by as he shook in the spot, his forehead breaking out in sweat as he tried desperately to move the piece of metal. He finally dropped his arm in defeat, sobs tearing out of his throat.
"Zezelia." Schmidt spoke, giving her the silent command.
Zezelia took the last few steps, closing the distance between herself and Erik before reaching out towards the frightened boy. "I'm sorry." She told him before latching onto the arm closest to her.
Upon contact with his skin, the pain erupted as it normally did. However, it wasn't Erik's scream that filled the room. It was Zezelia's. The pain overtook her and she fell to the ground, as the same pain she had inflicted upon so many people consumed her body and mind. The pain was worse than anything Schmidt or the soldiers had ever inflicted upon her. The blood poured from her nose as she thrashed on the floor, the scream echoing throughout the entire building. There was a split second where she wondered if she would die, being strangely happy with the idea before the darkness overtook her and she fell into it's numbing embrace.