He was my father. I had known him my whole life. In fact I had known him so well; I could recognize him from a mile away. I remember his auburn hair, hair which he dyed when I was a mere toddler. I would laugh at his mustache, which was a replica of Hitler's. I reminisce about his black, fuzzy mole on his left cheek, a mole, he would tell me, I had great fascination with in my early life. However, there was a devil underneath the light-hearted humour, a devil who I didn't discover until now.
It was the first time we had breathed in fresh air for two years. The Belgian winter air stung our cheeks like ice and whipped around us like a hurricane, but to us it didn't matter. We embraced the wind like an old forgotten friend, knowing that our lives would not last much longer, at least in the hands of the Nazis.
As I stepped into this ominous truck, I could smell rotten eggs. My mother and I were crushed into a seat, the truck was bolted. As my eyes became adjusted to the darkness, I began to clearly see the inside of the truck. Foam green mould ran up the edges as though it was caterpillar looking for a way out. Deep red blood stains patterned the walls. I dread to think whose blood it was.
But the sight in front of me made me lose all of my innocence. A mother and her two children were slumped against the bench, their eyes showed no emotions. Angry scars concealed the mothers face. The wailing cries of her children echoed all around us, and sank deep into our hearts. They could not escape. As the truck unrelentingly edged closer to our destination, I began to think how our lives would be from now on. There were too many thoughts in my head. I needed to confide in someone.
"Mama?" I said, eager for more information
My mother replied wearily, "Yes dear?"
"Where are we going?"
"I do not know my dear. If these animals managed to capture Sebastian, it's unlikely we will ever know where we end up."
"Father? I think he is safe wherever he is"
"I don't know Lena. I don't know anything at all." And with that my mother's eyes became unfocused. She had entered a new world, safer and more peaceful. I nestled into her lap. The innards of the truck began to slowly fade out.
***
I woke up to the sound of men roaring and shouting. The muscular build of the soldiers forcefully drove us out of the truck. The scene before us was of utter chaos. People were running about, avoiding separation from their dear ones. As my mother and I ran towards the entrance, I felt the filthy, coarse hands of a soldier push me towards a group of young girls about my age, while my mother was shoved to the right, away from me.
My mind blurry, I began to run back, for the fear that I could not survive without her. I ran as fast as a jet plane, as gracefully as a ballet dancer, but yet it felt as if though my feet were rooted to the spot I had been in only moments ago. I sensed the hands of two soldiers' grip like a vice around my arms and then they solemnly escorted me back.
I looked up at them. I wanted them to release me, to reunite me with my mother. I was more shocked to find the person I least expected to separate my mother and I. The auburn hair, the black moustache and the mole on his left cheek said it all. It was the person I thought to be stolen.
It was my father.
