Re-writing History

chapter 5

OMG, I've not uploaded in ages, sorry guys! I hope this chapter will make up for that. Before some of you read, I think I need to warn you. This chapter may be quiet unsettling to some people and it's going to be pretty much all Rowan's dreams.

By the way, check out my other story Hopeless. And if anyone doesn't mind, can someone make me a new cover for this story? I'll dedicate a chapter to them and fan!

Apart from that, vote, comment and Fan!

Genevieve sat silently in the back of the truck, her cold hand holding her mothers firmly. She could hear the soft sound of people crying in the darkness, the sound making the ache in her heart more prominent. The tears she'd shed after being forced into the cattle truck by the Nazi soldier's had long dried but the fear still lingered. What did they want from her? She'd never committed a crime against anyone as far as she could remember so why did she feel like she was being treated like a criminal condemned to death.

"You know what they're going to do to us?" A male voice said from the darkness.

Genevieve squinted until her eyes settled on an elderly man sat in the corner, his shirt ripped as though someone had pulled at it.

"They're going to kill us. Not straight away; no- they're going to make us work like slaves and if cold don't kill us then when we're tired and useless, they'll exterminate us like rats." The man laughed, throwing his head back and laughing so hard Genevieve thought his lungs were going to burst.

Somewhere in the truck, the sound of a small child crying could be heard, as though in sync with the elderly mans laughter.

"Shut up!" A woman spoke from somewhere in the darkness, "Just shut up. My husband fought in the war; they wouldn't betray their veterans like that."

Despite how reassuring her words should have been, they lacked conviction. The woman sounded scared- just like everyone else that had been thrown into the van.

Genevieve leant her head against her mothers slender shoulder and took in her familiar scent.

"Is this true?" She whispered softly, hoping no one in the confined space heard her.

Genevieve's mother looked down at her, her eyes tender yet full of trepidation. Her arms curled around Genevieve's shoulders and even though she was 16, her mother held her tight like when she was a little girl and needed comforting. Genevieve welcomed the embrace, wishing she could disappear into it's warmth where there were no cattle trucks and horrible old men who told horrible stories or crying children.

"My treasure, I can't promise you anything apart from this but as long as there's a breath in my body, I won't ever let anyone hurt you. I don't know if what that man is saying is true but I hope not- I really do."

Tear tracks ran down Genevieve's cheeks as she clung to her mother and her soft sobs joined the rest of the peoples.

She must have fallen asleep because she was startled awake when the truck came to a  jolting halt. Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Genevieve then proceeded to stretch as best as she could in the little space the truck provided, trying to do so without hitting the person who sat next to her in the face.

Suddenly the truck doors were opened and light engulfed the truck, burning Genevieve's eyes. A moment later when she'd finally become accustomed to the sunlight, she began to let her eyes drift over the people she'd been sat with and her heart sank when she realised how many people had been locked in that dreaded truck, and it was understandable why the stench of sweet and urine had become almost unbearable. There were people of all ages but one person stood out to Genevieve the most. It was a young girl who must have been no older than 9. She was pretty in that childish sort of way, with big doe eyes and dark curls in pigs tales. It was the red that stained her clothes that caught her eye though.