Paris lights I. [maerakis]

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a/n ; Heyyoo weirdos, this is another one of your average rucas addicts, hitting off this extremely long hiatus with another of my suckish one shots about, no other than, RUCAS. When I was a little girl I was sick for a general period of time and I consumed that time being trapped in a hospital for about 2 weeks. And I remember watching this movie about World War II and it was a sort of love story. This one shot is based off of a scene in the movie, which I don't remember because of my demented memory. But any who, I hope that you like this chappy c;

I cried with the salty pretzel tears running down my dirt smudged face. I was mired in a combination of what had seemed to be dirt and scum and the filth of the dirt blocking my systems. It was one of those flawless breaking moments where you haven't ever felt so tortured and pathetic in such a sufficient time. Collapsing onto the dirt filled ground in the pouring rain, bringing no sympathy to my tears, it felt like an intimate scene from a horror movie. Except this was the real horror movie.  

I don't know if there ever was a time anyone liked me. Anyone had appreciated me and cared for me as if I was an actually sorrowful human being, instead of being a dirty Jew. According to what the others said about me. There was never a time I had felt like a complete outcast, wearing a gold star that was plastered onto my clothes. The clothes that I wore when Hitler first took over domination and the clothes I had ended with when I was abandoned in this concentration camp. So the others could torture me, rape me and feed off of my transparent fears. After all I was just an innocent 17 year old. What was the least that I could possibly do at this moment?

So I crouched onto the mud basked ground, crying all my hopes out. Crying about my family I will never see again and crying about the one love that I will never see again. Lucas. The only person that had made an exception in liking me, even if I wasn't a french teenager like him. Even if I was a filthy Jew. Our hands would be clasped together and his arms around my small body, protecting me from the rest of the world and from the hideous games people would play on me. And now he was gone from my life. And now I would die without him.

My hands were shaking as I struggled to stand up from this uncomfortable position I was currently at. As I reached out to get up with my free hand, a black scuffed boot stepped right onto my pale fingers. Biting my lip and resisting the urge to wince, I looked up solemnly at the Nazi guard in front of me. He looked down at me, surprisingly with the same expression that I had. It was quite an act of surprised for a Nazi to ever have pity for you. Mainly they would laugh at your frail figure, tease you in a rude manner and poke you with their machetes and long, pointed guns. Everything in their view was fragile and cruel. As if you ticked them off, they would hunt you down and kill you. More like monsters to me

I looked up sorrowfully at the Nazi in front of me, a cruel expression on my face. As much as I tried to swallow back my tears and relentless complaints, I just couldn't. Not today and not ever. My cruel expression transformed to a frightful glare and I tilted my head to look towards the guard. This was the time I scream and shout. I needed a sentence. I needed an act of freedom.

"You k-know what I hate the most? You! All of you! You're some kinds of dirty, rotting meat that had decayed over a month ago! You've killed so many people and your dictator? Screw him to be a better person. Screw him in the name of justice! Which I don't have anymore!" I inhaled the smoke consuming the air, along with the mixture of incremented bodies, shaken by my voice and how strong it was. I had given a surge of confidence throughout me, which I have most likely enjoyed. But would the Nazi enjoy it, is the question?

I shook my complete fear this time, regretting what I had said a second earlier at the sight of the guards' darkened face. He had looked seemingly frightful for about a tad second, until it was replaced with sheer sympathy. Grabbing both of my wrists, he pulled me up with ease. But it was pretty simple for anyone to pull me up with ease. It wasn't like I had any flesh and fat inside of me. I was a combination of thin skin and bones. 

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