Schatzi

14

He took off at a sprint, almost crashing into people several times in his frantic rush. His heart pounded like a drum in his throat. His legs hurt and he had a stitch but he couldn't slow down, even when an SS officer noticed and yelled at him, trying to grab a hold of him. But he dodged and kept going until he reached the shop.

His heart felt like it had been in his throat before, but as soon as he saw their store, it dropped to his feet. They'd already been here, already done the deed.

Bright orange flames reached up into the blackness of the sky, cracking like bones breaking as they licked at the wood of the store front, the fire growing, spreading. The air was thick with smoke, making it almost impossible to breathe.

Eli pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth and ran closer, coughing and spluttering. He could see all the contents of the shop slowly burning. The candles in the smashed window melted, the shelves ablaze. He pushed the door open, a blast of insane heat wafting out and hitting him in the face, sending him back out into the street as he gasped. But he had to go in there. His uncle could be there, trapped in his house above the fire, just waiting for it to spread upstairs and consume him.

Maybe it had already got to him. Maybe he was already dead. Tugging on the front door as the room heated up from beneath, the latch jammed. No way out. The door heating up and then smouldering as the fire ate at it from the other side. He'd slowly be pushed back, searching for another way out as the fire spread through his apartment until there was nowhere to go. There'd be a moment where he was just waiting for death, waiting to feel the flames take over his body, become his entire world, just red and orange and pain.

Eli opened his eyes, realising how fast he was breathing. And in these smoky conditions, that was not a good thing. He tried to push away the thoughts of his uncles possible gory death and walked back towards the door. This time he was able to make it inside, although obviously it was still unbearably hot. He pushed through the rolling waves of heat, dodging and stepping over fires. Flames licked at his ankle, drawing a whimper of pain from his throat. It wasn't too bad yet. They must have only set it alight recently because it was mainly at the front of the store.

But then he reached the stairs to the apartment, and it dawned on him.

They'd set them on fire too. But very specifically. The fire from the front couldn't have spread all the way to the back yet, so this fire had been set on the stairs on purpose.

Those bastards. Those assholes. Those fucking cunts.

There wasn't even a chance he could make it up there. If his uncle wasn't dead already, he would be soon because there was no getting out of there now with what the Nazis had done.

He stifled a sob and ran out of the shop, not even caring if he got burnt now.

Out on the street, the heat of the fire still felt on his back.

He fell to his knees.

He faintly registered he was crying, mourning for the death he could not protect.

But he felt so...empty. He didn't feel there, this didn't feel real. It was a dream. This was all just a dream.

It had to be. It had to be. It had to be.

But the punch he took to the cheek a second later certainly didn't feel like a dream.

It came out of nowhere, but suddenly he was being attacked, knocked to the ground, winded.

Couldn't see their face.

Head hit the curb.

Blow to the stomach. Gasping for breath over and over as he took blow after blow.

They didn't stop.

It felt like hours but they just kept punching and kicking him.

He was sweating, sweat and blood dripping from his face onto the cobbles.

More and more and more blood. Bloody nose, burst lip, black eye, chipped tooth, fractured rib.

He didn't know. He didn't know anything that was going on. His head spun like a top. Rain fuzzy, seeing stars.

Seeing stars.

Stars in the only sky, twinkling so innocently like everything in the world was perfect. And it was perfect, up there any way. How were the stars supposed to know the shit down there.

Twinkle twinkle little st-

Throw him in the fuckin' fire.

Little star.

I'm sorry, what did you just say?

Are you thick or something, Get a move on before someone stops us.

Up above the world so high. That's what it felt like. Like he was miles away. Words floating through the clouds barely reaching him.

Throw him in the fucking fire.

Fuckin' fire.

"Fuckin' fire!"

"FUCKIN' FIRE!"

Someone grabbed him by the coat and pulled him up so his face was inches from that of his attacker.

The man glanced down at the Star of David sewn onto the patch of coat he had clenched in his fist. He leant in close to Eli's face. He could feel his hot breath, tickling his cheek. Smell it too. But he didn't flinch. Not even when the guy spat on him and dropped him back to the floor.

He heard their footsteps retreating.

"Let's go," he heard one say. The sounds of hands being brushed off on clothes. "I already touched it for long enough just doing that. I don't wanna pick it up. Hopefully someone else comes along and puts it outta it's fuckin' misery."