Untarnished. © Kate Young 2003-2004

She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Bodies were squashed against each other, bones prodding into bones. There was nowhere to sit, and her legs were aching from standing for so long. The Germans had shoved them in the wooden carriers as if they were animals; cows being sent to be slaughtered. Which, perhaps they were.

To the Germans, they were nothing but dirt on their boots. Animals. Sub- human.

It angered her that they thought they had a right to judge; but anger was useless, nothing would come of it. She swallowed it like, cold, ugly tea - grimacing as it went down; relieved that she did not have to taste it.

Rine clutched onto her Mothers arm is if it were a lifeline; let go, and drown in the swarm of people that surrounded her. Her father stood behind her protectively, his big hands on her tiny shoulders. Wedged between mother and father, she felt as strange comfort, considering their destination.

The train came to a abrupt halt, wheels grinding and screeching. She felt as if the air had been squeezed from her, as all the bodies in the wooden wagon were flung together with one vicious collide. People gasped. People groaned. Babies cried.

"Rine?" She heard the voice of her father behind her, strong and somewhat stern; yet, in-between the tone lay compassion, protectiveness. "Are you alright?"

She merely nodded, and felt him grip her shoulders once again. "Keep a hold of you Mothers hand, do not let go. I will be right behind you."

Rine nodded once more. "Yes pappa."

He squeezed her shoulder in assurance; as if to say: I will protect you. You have nothing to worry about.

The screech of the doors could be heard, and they wailed open. Sunlight poured through, striking them viciously with it's violent rays. Her eyes had not seen sunlight in more than fifteen hours; it did not reach the depths of dank wooden box; as their were no windows, only small holes on the side to let air in. Yet that still did not relieve the stench that floated aimlessly in the air - the stench of body oder; urine, bad breath, sickness lurked stubbornly. No amount of fresh air could cleanse the humid stench in the wooden cart.

A uniformed figure stood at the doorway, the sun streaming in from behind him, obscured his features, shrouding his face, and the front of his body in a shadow. The crowd within the train grew silent, until only the sound of nervous breathing and anxiously beating hearts could be heard.

The noise from outside drifted in; marching, yelling, accompanied by the laughter of someone or another. But it all seemed very faint; distant - as all the people were concerned about at the moment was what was going to happen next; as in that instant their whole world seemed to be in the inside of that train; huddled together like cattle, oblivious to the new life the would be subjected to. The man stood there, eyes roaming over everybody that coward in his path - weighing the pro's and cons' - and, unknown to them, who would live and who would die.

Cold, steely eyes took in the images before him; the ragged clothes, people frozen in motion as if they were stone statues, dirt smeared faces peering back at him with fear and nervousness. Mothers clutching children, expectant eyes awaiting their fate, their destiny. Whatever that may be.

"Single line. Move forward, and down the boardwalk in a single line."

He moved backwards, motioning them to move forwards. They did so, somewhat gingerly, scared, that the moment they stood outside the train they would have a bullet in the head.

Rine's father nudged her gently, reminding her that he was there. She felt scared - scared was an understatement - she was terrified - of what she did not know, but she knew that there was something terribly wrong.

Her mother began to move forward, and she moved also, clutching on her arm with ferocity.

The crowd on the train moved in a steady pace, disappearing into the sunlit doorway. It looked rather ethereal; for the sun was so bright, it looked like a sheet of incandescent light had been draped in front of the doorway, and anyone passing thought it was enshrouded in it's glare and simply disappeared.

She vaguely heard some shouting; a woman perhaps - and, as she came closer to the doorway, the voices and yelling became more prominent. The sunlight attacked her eyes, and she squinted; blindly she felt for the reassurance of her Mother, who was gripping her hand even tighter now, as if not willing to let go.

"No! No!" She heard through the array of noise that hovered.

"Please, don't take her away! Please!" "I want my papa!" "No! Mother!"

Tormented voices, that reeked of pain and anguish, that were filled to the brim in suffering. Rine couldn't stand the sound of people suffering, people crying, yelling, screaming. Her mother gripped her hand in a death- like grip, her father squeezed her shoulders.

Her eyes had now adjusted to the sunlight, and she saw what lay before her. Down the boardwalk was a plethora of people, lining up in a single line, awaiting their destiny. Rine and her family joined to queue, and she looked around her curiously.

Soldiers stood with guns, their posture ridged, back straight, heads high, guns poised to attention. People swarmed on each side of her, some were being placed crying into trucks, others were being marched into the compound. The metal mesh gates rose high, fringed with monstrous barbed wire, incrusted with razor sharp glinting talons. Behind the fence was an array of brown shacks, all creeping down steadily into the distance.

On one of the grassy hills on the far left corner, a lonesome daffodil lingered, wilting a little. It grew alone, and was submerged nearly by mud.

Soon, they were near the front of the line; her stomach was in knots, twisting and turning rapidly; she felt her mothers grip on her hand tighten, and her father clutching once again on her shoulders. The soldier in front of them - she had caught his name, Mengele- looked at the three of them intensely, letting his cold eyes roam over their features slowly, as if debating what to do with them.

The world seemed like slow-motion; the people swarming around her, the shouts and the cries, the rustling, marching, was all drowned out by the rapid beat of her heart. Rine watched as he flicked his hand to the right, indicating to the soldier beside him which way they were to go. But his eyes were not locked on hers, but on her Mothers, and then on her fathers, who she still knew was standing behind her.

Her heart stopped, as the soldier moved forward, and roughly pushed her out the way - indicating for her parents to follow him. She cried out, much like the people whom she had been watching on the train with curiosity. Her brain, her body - her soul - was drenched in anguish, and her screams promoted that - they were hoarse, high pitched, and evoked by the very thought of losing her parents. She felt a hand pull her back - her hair fell around her face as she struggled to get free of the captures vice-like grasp.

Her parents were both calling to her, as they were dragged off in another direction; and she knew, by the look on their faces, that she would never see them again. She watched in horror, as he Father struggled to get free, but fell to the mud covered ground, and was yanked back by the arm, still screaming her name.

"Mother! Papa!" The words spued forth from her mouth, in a primal scream - it dripped with anger - anguish..

She was propelled back further, and watched as her parents were bundled into the truck- her arm went out, fingers outstretched and grasping for the disappearing figures of her family.

That was the last thing that she saw, before she passed out from the pain.

***************************************************

Three months had passed, and she sat the hard mattress that they called a bed, and looked out of the dirt smeared window. Rine clutched her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around them firmly, her large brown eyes gazing at the rain, as it fell from the cloud infested sky; making the mud on the ground ooze and slither down the pathways, in clotted lumps.

She saw the large tunnel that punctured they grey tinged sky-line, spewing forth ash-like pumes of smoke into the sky. The smoke drifted over the camp aimlessly, landing on the muddy ground like snow. Only, it wasn't snow. It wasn't pure and white - and it didn't fall to the ground with magical grace. Rine knew exactly what the smoke was. Only, she ignored the answer, for the sake of her own sanity.

The memory of the other day haunted her - Rine remember as she watched helplessly as a man was beaten to death for stealing bread. He was caught, on the middle of the pathway, just outside her window. The three German soldiers beat him ferociously, kicking him on the head, until his face was covered in a shiny sheen on blood. They had continued their assault until he was dead. Then, laughing at a joke they had heard only a couple of hours ago, they dumped his body on the rotting infesting pile of bodies on the corner of the huts.

Laughing, she mused, like what they had done was normal.

At night, she would listen to the other women of her quarter talking - their stories horrified her, chilling her to the very bone. One in particular haunted her - that they could hear the screams of those being tortured, or operated on by Dr Mengele; the ruthless German doctor, with the cold steely eyes. Sometimes he seemed like an empty shell, no emotions, no flicker of light in his eyes. Only darkness. Hatred. It clocked his features like a black drape.

Sometimes she tried not to listen to the stories - but it was a comfort to hear others talk, to realize that one was not alone, that there were others that were going through the exact same.

She buried her head, in-between in the crook of her knees, and retreated into herself for solace.

"What's wrong?" Came a voice from inside her head. A voice that she has entertained since she was able to articulate words and phrases. An imaginary friend, her Mother had called it. Rine thought of the voice as he inner self, a thing she had created to debate with, to seek answers. She was always known as being eccentric by other people, but they never held that against her - as her soft and humour filled personality always won them over.

"What do you think is wrong?" She asked, in her head.

"You don't like it here?"

"That's a stupid question."

"Indeed. But it was a question."

"No, I don't. I want to go home. I want my parents. I want to leave."

"Now, that's a stupid thought." The voice laughed softly. "What are you going to do? Jump over the electric fence?"

"I may fly."

"With your wings?"

She laughed softly into the crook of her knees. "No. With a broom."

"Ah. I see. Never saw that one coming."

Rine never knew anyone that done this - perhaps people in insane asylums- she she wasn't from it. Growing up without brothers and sisters left her lonely, and so, subconsciously, she spoke the her "inner self". God, even thinking about it made her feel a little mad. What would the Germans say if they thought she was speaking to the voices in her head?

She was awoken by her little conversation by one of her friend, and bunk- bed mate, Sylvia, as she came bursting through the doors. As always, making an entrance. Only, Rine stopped smiling affectionately, when she saw the look on her face.

"You won't believe it." She stated calmly, her blue eyes glimmering with disbelief. Syliva sat down on the bed across from her, and peered at her through a sheet of grimy blonde hair.

Rine sat up, a frown etched on her face. "What? What's happened?"

"You know I'm meant to clean some of the medical rooms?"

"Yes.."

"Well.."

"What?"

"I saw.." She paused, a look a sheer horror flashing in her eyes. "Dr Mengele, he..he was operating on..no." She frowned, chewing her lip to stop the tears from falling. "more like chopping up a pregnant woman, cut right through her stomach..when she was till awake..she screaming...crying.." Sylvia placed her face in her hand and cried out, her shoulders shaking violently.

Rine extended her hand to her friend, and placed it on her shoulder. The gesture brought back memories, of her Father, as he clucthed her shoulder but three months ago. The pain swelled, and so did the hatred - the anger. She closed her eyes and re-focused. No more hatred. No more anger. It was not her.

Easier said than done.

"Oh, God." Was all that Rine could say. Monsters..what monsters could take pleasure in the torture of another human being.

"She was screaming, Rine! Begging!" Sylvia looked up at her, her face stained with tears. "And there was nothing I could ..God...you know what I do afterwards? I was sick..right outside..sick over the stairs.."

Rine placed a soft kiss on her friend head. "We are never going to get out of here..are we?"

Her friend looked up at her with sad eyes, and shook her head. "No, Rine. We are never gonna get out of here. Never."

************************************

After their conversation, they had went back to work. Slaving away till the nearly nine at night. Rine looked at her fingers in disbelief; the were red raw, and flaking, even touching her face was sore. She sat on her bunk with a sigh, and reflected.

The image of her parents came back to her again; of that day; of being rounded up into vans by the Germans in her home town. She could hear the sound of the vans rolling into her street, remembered peering out the window and gasping, and the feeling of dread filling her body.

There was an invisible gaping whole now - she knew she wasn't the same person she was when she was living a free life. No. Rine knew that that part of her was dead. But somewhere deep inside lingered a part of her that was still alive, and the could not be killed so easily.

Placing her hands behind her head, she let out another sigh, and, tried in vain, to ignore the feeling of hatred that was filling her veins. They had taken her parents - they had killed and tortured thousands of innocents. She closed her eyes again, and fluttered them open, trying to get rid of the growing feeling of hatred. Rine didn't like it. There was no point, it would serve in changing nothing - it only served in becoming like one of them.

"You won't get rid of it just by closing your eyes." Came the voice again, always welcome.

"Then tell me. How can I get rid of it?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out."

"I thought you knew everything?"

"Rine?" A voice whispered from the top bunk.

Sylvia.

"Uh huh?" She asked, nudging her head up and looking to the roof of her bunk.

"Did I ever tell you how I came here?"

"I would assume that you were captured by the Germans."

"Can I tell you how?"

Rine hesitiated. She wanted to forget. "Go ahead."

"We lived in the Ghetto, a place where the Germans thought we deserved to the rats..and cockroaches. We were put there by the Nazi's and not long after, .came to collect us again. I thought we were getting moved know, to another ."

"You don't have to tell me this is you don't want to."

".I do, it's just hard.."

"Then don't tell me." Rine replied softly.

".it was a Monday..I remember seeing the date on the paper, my Father stopped his cooking for a second and looked intently out the window. But by the look on his face, I knew that they weren't taking us to another Ghetto..it's you of these gut feelings that you can't explain at the time."

"Next thing I knew, three Germans soldiers came rushing through our door with these big pistols, just aiming them right at as. They ordered, as they put it, all the scum to get out on the street." Sylvia paused and took a shakey breath. "I was terrified, I thought that they were going to line us up, and shoot us right there and then. But they didn't. They inspected us all. The older, weaker ones were put in a large black truck. My father was one of them. He was the only family I had.."

"If this is hurting you.."

".no..I need to make sense of this, Rine!" She practically hissed. "I need to know how they can do such inhumane things! I need to understand..I.."

Rine sighed, and let her finger trace invisible circles on the roof of her bunk. "We will never understand, Sylvia. What they are doing is beyond comprehension. We can never understand their actions."

Papa. Mother. Home. Che-che, the cat, sitting curled on the couch, watching as the rain fell from outside the window. She would never again play chess with her Mother, or do crosswords with her father, or smell the sweet honey- ripe air of the summer.

These were her last thoughts, before she was lulled to the lands of the sleeping. Free, if only for a small time.

Halfway through the night, she was awoken by the sound of someone grunting. Her primary thought that it was someone in the room, snoring, as it happened often. But, as she listened closer, she came to notice that the noise was indeed coming from outside. There was some shuffling, followed by a thump, and, not denying her curious tendencies, she popped her head up to the window beside her bunk slowly.

The rain fell heavy outside, battering off the ground with a tremendous force. It came in long, silver like lashes, and whipped the mud that lay in a slopped mess. From her peripheral vision, she saw two German guards stalk off, holding their rifles up by their shoulders, as if ready for an attacker.

Rine's eyes fell back the man that lay on the ground, for a second, she thought he was dead; but, as she looked closer, she realized that he was still, indeed, alive, and shuddering rather violently, as the rain attacked him without mercy.

Frowing a little, she placed her hand on the window, not knowing what to do.

"He's going to die." Came her inner voice.

"I presumed that." She responded in her head. Not wanting to talk out loud to the voice that questioned her. Rime had learned from early age to keep the conversations with her overactive imgination to herself, knowing that people would more than likely lable her some ranting child-like, 16 year old freak.

"Are you going to watch him die?"

Rime frowned again, and rubbed her hand over her head; a gesture that was always displayed when she felt conflicted.

"No." She replied out loud.

*************************************

She had never calculated how heavy the rain actually was, for, as she stood just outside hut, she was mesmerized by the sheet of water that was being evacuated by the looming clouds. It fell slanted, to the right, being softly persuaded by the hands of the wind, and battering into the huts with force.

Rine grimaced as her bare foot made contact with the mud; smiling a little as it oozed in-between her toes, and creped over the roof of her foot. She had porously left her soggy shoes in the hut, not wanting to be raped of the privilege of feeling such texture beneath her wet soles.

Slowly, she moved forward, through the sheet of the rain, smiling again as it battered off her head, and slid down her neck; it was cool, refreshing, pure - and it seemed to clean away some of the impurities that clung to her skin stubbornly.

She rounded the corner of the hut, aware that her feet were making squelching noises; but not caring. In the corner he was huddled, trying, in vain, to protect himself from the onslaught of the rain. The moon cast a silvery light on his body, illuminating the cuts and gashes on his face, and the blood that crept out of the wounds swiftly.

The man caught sight of her, and she saw the look of impending warning in his eyes. His mouth turned to a snarl, and he backed up against the hut more, as if she were some kind of monster coming to eat him.

Rine moved forward, thinking that the prisoner was delusional, that he must have thought of her as a German Soldier. The more he came into view though, the more she noticed the look of pure pain etched on his face.

He groaned, and tried to move away further.

"It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you."

The only thing she heard from him was a low hiss, as it escaped his barley open mouth.

Soon, a sound escaped her mouth - but it was not a hiss, nor a soft noise of comfort - but a gasp of shock, as she saw that the man was wearing a uniform, and he was, indeed, a German Soldier. Backing up a little, she placed a hand over her mouth, trying to stop the small noises that were creeping out. The man stared at her, his eyes growing large, and yet still maintaining the look of warning.

Her first feeling was to run back to the hut and shut the door, and leave whoever he was to die a painful death in the rain and the mud. A small price to pay, for killing so many innocents. And yet, the rational side of her noticed that he was a human being, in pain, suffering, bleeding, cut and broken. Regardless of who he was. He was human.

Rine was not like them.

Moving forward quickly, she dropped to her knees by his front; and he, not being able to move because of the wounds inflicted, could only look on in pure horror.

What was this Jew going to do to him? Torture him more? Poke his eyes out with her nails, slap him, hit him?

He closed his eyes, waiting for her to make her move; angry that he could not defend himself, that he could not fight. But, after one minute of waiting for her hand to make contact with his face; he opened his eyes, and found her still there, in the exact same position, looking at him with her big brown eyes, her sheet of long brown hair clinging around her face.

They looked at each other for a couple of seconds; the noise of the rain whipping off the ground drowned out, as she reached forward gingerly and placed a hand on his knee. He looked at her hand, as if it was some foreign object, and then looked back up at her. This time, a small smile played on her lips, and she cocked her head to the side. His first instinct was to spit on her face, but that was soon quelled when she placed a hand on his, somehow sensing that he was soon going to die.

His own people had turned their backs on him, had beaten and humiliated him, and this Jew - who was enslaved by his people, who was tortured, family killed - offered her sympathy to him. He closed his eyes. Sensing that death was near.

He didn't mean it, but he let it slip out. "I don't want to die alone."

The grip on his hand tightened. "I won't let you."

He opened his eyes again, and was oddly relieved to see the big brown eyes staring back at him.

That was the last thing he saw before he passed away. The last thing her felt was her soft hand gripping him in reassurance as he passed from the land of the living.

*******************************

Rine knew that the time had came. Sooner or later. She knew, as her unit and herself were getting escorted to a "shower", that that was going to be her last day on earth. Rine didn't know how she knew, but somewhere deep in her get, there was a feeling lingering that all was not right. Just like Sylvia said, you can't explain it at the time, but you just know when your time is up.

Yet, strangely, she was not afraid. Her stomach did not turn, yet stayed neutral. The image of that night outside the hut had stayed with her - not haunting, but somehow comforting. For, she didn't know how, but that night she felt untarnished, uncorrupted.

Human.

Not and animal. Not sub-human. But human.

She had not turned her back on him like she thought she would have. And suddenly it hit her. She was not afraid to die, nor be tortured - but she was afraid to turn out like one of them - eaten by hate and anger. Rine had witnessed a lot of Jews turn out that way, and she didn't blame them. The things they had been through were enough to turn anyone insane. And that was what was tormenting her so. That was why she denied to feel such anger; she was afraid that it would take over. But it had not.

They were escorted into a room with no windows; the walls were plastered with white tiles, and so was the floor. They were ordered to take their clothes off, and each stand under a water-head. They did so.

"Are you ready?" Came the voice in her head.

"Yes."

"This is amazing!" Sylvia replied, as she stood next to Rine, waiting in anticipation for the water to be turned on. "Finally, we don't need to bathe in dirty water." Her eyes beheld child-like excitement.

Rine turned to her and smiled sadly. "Yes. Yes it is."

I'll see you soon, Mama, Papa.

The door closed.

*************************************

Their bodies were dumped into the roaring furnace; disregarded like old meat. The smoke pumes grew higher and higher into the sky, lingering over the horizon like a stubborn smell.

The sun crept out from behind looming dark clouds, letting it's rays gently caress the growing daffodils, just on the bakins outside the camp. The yellow petals flourished under the haze of the sun; they grew defiantly; untarnished and blossoming, a testament that life and hope could somehow find a way to survive the unyielding presence of Auschwitz.

The End.