Holocaust Demigods: Rise to Power
Mother doesn't come home until the sky is dark and cold, gray clouds have covered us like a stifling blanket. We never know what's going to happen next, when we should run or stay. When she gets here, the first thing I notice is that Elisa is not holding her hand and wiping her little hairs out of her eyes as she waits for us to open the door. She always thinks it a game, seeing if she or mother could knock on the door first. Everything is a game with her.
Father pulls mother in, shivering and cold and tears frozen in place on her pale cheeks. "What's happened?" He asks, bending over her with concerned eyes.
Mother doesn't speak for a long time, she barely manages to stutter out "She...they..." and a few ragged coughs.
My brother, Michael rushes in from the kitchen, gently pushes a bowl of soup into my mother's hands. "We've been keeping it warm," He whispers.
Michael is a cooking genius. To say he's obsessed with spices and soups and any type of salad would be under estimating him. There is nothing in the cook books he doesn't have memorized on how to bake/boil/cook/saute you name it. He's my big brother, sixteen and already charting out his future. Once, he got to cook for a whole restaurant at a hotel because the manager asked for him! Can you believe it? Since he's a Jew, the credit went to some Christian, but most the finances of that night came straight back to us. We celebrated that night, sitting by the hearth of our fire and chattering excitedly.
Now, as we sit in the light of the dying fire, I can see no good news coming our way. Mother sips the broth, then holds the bowl with shaking fingers. Her eyes are red from crying. I'm starting to become very worried.
I remove the bowl from her trembling hands with ease, a bowl of spilled soup will do us no good. "Mother?" I ask quietly.
She closes her eyes, shuts them tight before answering. "They killed her. The Nazis caught her."
A horrible weight drops in my stomach, slamming my heart into my toes and squashing it. Elisa...dead. My little sister... There's a type of wrenching pain inside of me, and I can't help the scream that escapes my lips.
Michael, who is holding a pot of soup, stares at his reflection in it before shouting "To hell with the Nazis! I'm done!" and slamming the soup to the ground. The waves come up and splash all around the floor, but Michael does nothing. Even as the steaming broth pours around his ankles, he doesn't even flinch.
Father falls backward and slams into the ground, breathing deeply. "No..." He murmurs so softly I barely hear him. "Not Elisa..."
Mother continues, her voice rising with every word. "SHE'S GONE!"
And the grief inside of me is unlike anything I've ever felt before. I want to scream, yell and sob all at once. My sister. How could anyone ever be this heartless? Do they not have emotion? I drop to my knees slowly, face paling as my eyes begin to stink and my vision starts to go blurry.
How could this happen to Elisa? Probably the most innocent selfless person in the world, and this is how life repays her? I can't help but feel a surge of anger. This world, everything, is burning to hell.