I don't speak German and I did my best in searching up some words for this chapter, but they're probably wrong so, if anyone here speaks German, please correct me, thanks
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I found that Kellin was very comforting to be around. He always knew what to say; his mere presence made everything seem so much less daunting; he was a walking ray of sunshine. Having no contact with my parents of brother and being away from our group, this one boy was the highlight of my life now and I vowed to keep him safe.
We had travelled through the fallen city, coming across more dead than alive people. By the time we had made our way through the entirety of the place, we found ourselves in yet another bare area. This time no forests, just fields. Kellin and I were constantly on the lookout for roadsigns or posters to indicate whether we were still in Germany and going the right way.
Something I found extremely bizarre was how little either of us - or anyone, really - truly knew about what was going on. All we knew of the war was how it had begun: Hitler had decided to invade Poland and it all went downhill from there. However, no newspaper ever explained the motives behind any of this. Clearly, nothing could justify such horrendous actions, but just knowing why all of this was happening would have probably made it much easier and safer for us. If we were aware of what was going on inside of Germany and the media did not try to cover everything up, we would know what to avoid and where to go, but we were clueless - left to figure it all out by ourselves.
Walking through the fields was refreshing with Kellin by my side. He was very talkative and, even if we were silent, he still found ways to make it interesting. There were many flowers below our feet and the boy was rapidly pointing them out and naming every single one, which he had learned from his mother who grew the wildest of plants. The boy's rambling was always a nice distraction.
"Is your shoulder okay?" Kellin asked all of a sudden, stopping to let me catch up as I had been walking behind him. Whilst trying to get through the city, which was completely in ruins, we were caught up in a couple of shootouts. During one of them, a bullet hit my shoulder - it did not embed itself in my skin as it touched the edge of my shoulder, but it ripped through a good few layers of skin and I bled quite a bit. I was not too worried about it, as it did not hurt but just stung, and did not seem to be oozing the red liquid anymore. I was more fussed about my clothes getting ripped.
"Yeah, it's fine. Bloody stings though," I muttered. Kellin walked up next to me and, as we continued moving, he took my upper arm and examined it closely while his other hand tangled with mine to keep it in place. The bandages on my shoulder were red, but dry by now. The boy's closeness made me feel warm on the inside.
"Maybe when we get to a normal town, which is not completely destroyed, we'll be able to find something to treat it better," Kellin suggested. Even though he had finished examining my arm, he still kept his fingers entwined with my own and I took a lot of notice of it. I could feel my cheeks becoming red, but luckily Kellin was too busy looking out at the fields to catch me dreamily gazing down at our joined hands.
"I would not be too 'opeful. The civilians prob'ly want to 'elp us jus' as much as the soldiers," I said, being the realistic one of the two of us. "But it don't matter, we can jus' take it from 'em by force."
"You mean we'd steal from them?" Kellin asked in a small voice. I could feel his hand wanting to slip out of my own, so I just held it tighter. "But that's wrong, it's a sin."
"So is killin' people. Does that mean everyone out 'ere - even those fighting for what is right - is goin' to hell?" I challenged.
With all the time I had to spare, I found myself debating philosophical questions such as that one. There was this constant inner conflict of which option was better: killing more people or just giving up and letting myself be killed, in order to not cause more destruction. However what always stopped me from choosing the latter was that I was doing all of these unholy things for the greater good. Many people had died by my hand and I wished they had not. I wished that I never had to kill anyone, but those people were tyrants and something had to be done about them. God was the only one who could decide whether I went to heaven or hell, and I hoped that he would see the positive intentions behind my actions.
Kellin did not reply and kept quiet. He tried to pull his hand away again, but I gave him a pleading look which begged him to stay close to me, so he did. Expectedly, the boy was quickly back to his usual talkative self and was ranting about how underappreciated the colour yellow was. I agreed.
My legs were beginning to ache and I started to reconsider our decision of going out into the fields like this. Who knew how large this area was? It could go on for miles and we'd run out of food before we reached any inhabited area. This was not a good idea.
I had been so lost in thought that I did not notice the fact that Kellin's hand had slipped out of mine, his voice had trailed off, and he had stopped walking, until I marched face-first straight into something hard yet flexible. Blinking a few times to regain some composure, I stepped away and looked up in confusion. The fence was tall with barbed wire lining the top, the height was unbelievable and it seemed very sturdy. I simply gazed in wonder and thought about what such a great fence would be needed for.
My eyes finally fell on what was beyond it. There were so many people - no, men - all dressed in the same striped clothing, with the same shaved heads, and the same dead look in their eyes. They were marching around and working, performing jobs for people who were ordering them around. The two groups were easily distinguishable. There were buildings behind them too, all very daunting and wide. Rows of people, who were in normal clothing and this time had women and children too, stood shaking in front of authoritative figures. Someone cried out: a man was being beaten by one of the guards. A group were being led into one of the far buildings.
I stared in awe and confusion, unable to keep my eyes away.
"What is this?" I found myself uttering, mainly to myself.
"I don't know," Kellin walked up and stood by my side, tracing his fingers along the fence. "But all these people... This has to be some sort of prison, right? Otherwise why would they be treating them so badly? These men must be criminals. They probably stay in those buildings and come out to work."
The boy's theory did not seem too far fetched but his voice was way too hopeful, as if he was forcing himself to believe it. But it made no sense to have women and children here as well: prisons tended to be single-sex and I could see no females in those striped clothes. This was one of the times I wished the newspapers at home were not so censored and they let us know what was going on in Germany, as we were left clueless.
"I-I think we should go. We're not supposed to be 'ere," I said, feeling very out of place. As soon as one of the men from inside of the fence looked over at us, I knew we had to go. We could not stay here. This place had an awful aura, as if simply being in its vicinity already made life worse. And, although the ones in stripes were seemingly the prisoners, I found myself fearing the guards more for some reason. Actually, they terrified me.
"Come on," I tugged on Kellin's sleeve, but his feet seemed to be stuck to the ground and he was staring at something on the inside of the fence. Gazing up to see what had caught his attention, I noticed someone discreetly approaching us. It was a boy who was quite tall, but his youthful face revealed that maybe he was 12 years old or even younger, and although he was sneaking towards us, he had a frantic look in his eye.
As soon as he reached us, he glanced behind him to check if no one was looking. The boy clung to the fence and with desperation laced in his voice said, "Hilfe! Helft mir!" His fists banged on the fence as if his life depended on it.
Kellin and I exchanged a look. This boy was so frightened, it worried me. He kept looking back in fear and, to his horror and ours too, a couple of the guards had seen him and were now running our way. The boy's vibrant green eyes swam with tears. I did not know what to do; I could not understand what he was saying.
"Hilf mer bitte!" He was sobbing so violently the entire fence shook with him and his face had a pleading expression on it. The guards had seen us too. I had no idea what to do. This boy seemed utterly terrified, we had to get him out of here: I rattled the fence and pulled as hard as I could, I attempted to pry the bottom of it from the ground to make a hole for the child to crawl through although he would probably be too tall either way, I clung onto it with all of my force to the point where my shoulder was bleeding all over again. Nothing worked, absolutely nothing. I felt so helpless. I was crying too. The boy was wailing so loudly.
A hand suddenly laced with my own and I was being roughly and quickly pulled away, just as I got a last glimpse of the guards violently yanking the child away from the fence. Kellin tugged me along with him as we ran and the only thing we could hear were the screams of the little boy getting more distant by the second. I could not see anything: I was crying too much. Those people hurt him, they were going to kill him. There was no way the boy would survive, and there was no way that was a prison.