His voice was like venom. His hands that ran down my arms made my skin prickle with unease, and his smile, it was from the devil himself. He was Hitler's second in command and he was a boss at everything he did. It was unlikely for him to fall for a woman, a Gypsy, at that. But then again, a German man always has his weakness, sometimes it's just not to things that others expect. Maybe though this wasn't a weakness, maybe it was just the thought of hurting someone even more would bring him pleasure. So I guess that's why he did what he did. Then he left me to heal on my own, thrown in the room, and left to either die or await on my session the next day.
I awoke that morning with the events of last night running through my mind. I was his slave, and he was my master. The only thing that I could really call mine, I was his slave, and he was my master. MY master. The beast himself, the one that everyone feared. It was odd that his name wasn't of German sound or Hungarian. His name was Ruka and he was a monster. Everyone believed his mother to be Latin and his father German. Ruka's father was a cruel man, almost as cruel as Ruka, but there was something that was in Ruka that was darker than his father. His soul was a whole lot darker and he was the devil himself.
Many times people would cringe at the mention of his name and at my age of sixteen I didn't know better. It was 1941 and I was almost sixteen years old. November was my birth month and it was only a matter of time before it came around. The Germans or Hungarian soldiers hadn't shown up in our village yet but we knew that it was a matter of time, so we started to move earlier and quicker than we ever had. My mother was around thirthy-five years old. She was beautiful, her hair was black as night, and her eyes were as blue as the sky. Her skin was tan like my father's. The only difference in them was that my father had brown eyes and that's where I got my eyes. I was short for my age, standing at a mere 4'11" I was almost sixteen years old and my mother feared that I wouldn't grow anymore. But she said that it would favor me more since I was a female and since my body was more athletic, I almost looked good. It was something that I had thought of since I had been captured but it was too late. My capture had only been two days earlier and already I was feeling the pain of being his slave. The real deal would come tonight he said. I had a few clues on what he meant and I didn't want to do it but I had no choice, it was the only way that I would be able to live.
YOU ARE READING
The Wicked and the Haunted
Historical FictionIt's 1941 and the Holocaust has just began. Many Jews and Gypsies are being taken from their homes and put into ghettos and then eventually camps. There are so many deaths that no one knows who has died and who hasn't, families have been separated...
