In the Shadow of His Wings

Chapter 2

Mengele fondled your hand for a couple of minutes, then he turned to look out the window. The big, bright full moon was still staring down from the pitch-black sky.

"Did you see that moon?" he asked. You nodded.

"A full moon... haven't had that in a while." He looked up at the moon and seemed fascinated. "You know what, let's write a poem."

"A... poem?" You looked at him, confused. He just smiled. "Yes, a poem. I have an awesome idea, just... let me get a paper..."

He turned to his desk and started searching for a blank sheet of paper. After rummaging around in all the forms and other paperwork on his desk, he finally found one and took a pen.

"Wait... I need something I can put under it..." He took a clipboard from his desk and clamped the paper onto it.

Then he crossed his legs, leaned back in the chair, placed the clipboard on his thigh and started to write. At this point, you really wished you had a camera. He just looked... perfect. How his black boots were so shiny that you could use them as a mirror, how his entire outfit was so elegant and flawless, how his lips were slightly parted while he concentrated on the paper...

From time to time he would interrupt his writing and look up at the moon to think. Then the bright white light would reflect in his eyes, making them even shinier and more stunning. And from time to time he would look at you and smile a little, your heart skipped a beat every time... You could have stared at him for hours.

You looked around the room for a while. Then suddenly, you heard him say: "I think I'm done." So you turned to look at him again.

He held the small paper in his hands, smiling. "The first verse is you, the second one is me."

He gave it to you and you started to read it.

Der Mond scheint auf mein Lager;

ich schlafe nicht.

Meine gefalteten Hände ruhen

In seinem Licht.

Meine Seele ist still, sie kehrte

von Gott zurück.

Und mein Herz hat nur einen Gedanken:

Dich und dein Glück!

"What... but why–" you wanted to ask, but were quickly interrupted. Mengele placed his finger over your mouth.

"Shh... don't ask..." he whispered. You stared into his eyes for a split second, almost drowning in their beauty, before all of a sudden his lips crashed into yours.

For a moment you were simply shocked and just sat there, petrified. But then you closed your eyes on impulse, relaxed and leaned into the kiss. Your heart made a thousand leaps of joy, you were actually getting dizzy from how fast it was beating. You couldn't believe that what you'd secretly wanted for so long was really happening. This moment was perfect.

He ran his fingers through your hair while you kissed; you wanted to touch him too, so you gathered all your courage and wrapped your arms around his neck. He let it happen.

After what seemed like an eternity to you, your lips eventually separated again. He held your face in his hands, the palms warming your cold cheeks. You just remained there like this, looking at each other, smiling. Your arms were still wrapped around his neck and you never wanted to let go again.

That was when you decided: I don't want to go home anymore. I'll stay by his side, no matter what.

After a while you took your eyes off of him and turned your head to the right. What you saw outside the window surprised you: It was snowing!

"Hey, look," you said to him. He turned his head as well.

"Oh. Some nightly snow. Nice..."

There was only one thing that worried you. Mengele noticed your pensive expression and asked: "What is it, Liebes? What are you thinking about?"

You looked him in the eyes again. "I... I don't... want... to go back there," you stuttered. After you had just finally found a reason to live in this cruel, dark world, you didn't want to risk getting killed on your way back to the barrack.

He smiled. "You don't have to. You can stay here."

Your eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes. Come with me."

With that, he lifted you up and carried you to a small bed in the corner of the room. It only consisted of a thick mattress, there was no blanket and no pillow. He carefully put you down on it, took off his lab coat and wrapped it around you with the words: "Take this as a blanket, I don't want you to be cold..."

Then he gave you a goodnight kiss on the forehead and ran his fingers through your hair one last time. "Gute Nacht, mein Schatz. Try to get at least some sleep. We will see each other again very soon."

You smiled and watched him as he turned around and went back to his desk. You looked at the poem in your hands one last time before folding the paper neatly and making yourself comfortable in the bed.

You put your arm under your head as a pillow substitute and buried your face in the coat. The collar was tinted with the scent of Mengele's perfume; you inhaled it delightedly.

Your thoughts started to wander as you lay there. How long has it been since I've slept in a real bed? And in an actually heated room? I don't remember.

The last thing you heard was the sound of Mengele's pen grazing over the forms he was filling out, before you drifted off to sleep slowly but surely...