What She Lost by Melissa W Hunter

Author:Melissa W Hunter [Hunter, Melissa W]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC014050 FICTION / Historical / World War II (*); FIC046000 FICTION / Jewish
ISBN: 9781947976153
Publisher: Cennan Books of Cynren Press
Published: 2019-09-13T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Five

I was standing in a large, cold room. The concrete walls were streaked with grime, the windows barred. Bare light bulbs flickered from the ceiling overhead. I glanced at my feet on the dirty floor and realized I was naked. I tried to cover my exposed breasts and private parts with my hands and arms, but a loud voice was shouting at us to stand up straight, arms at our sides. I blinked back tears as I looked around. Gutcha was beside me, trembling, and when her eyes met mine, they mirrored my own fear. Everywhere I looked were women of all ages and sizes, standing in the nude, trying desperately to cover themselves. We were lined up in rows, facing a wall where a large, masculine-looking woman was pacing back and forth, holding a clipboard.

A man in a white coat entered from a side door and began to walk between the rows of women. I blushed fiercely at his presence, feeling at once violated and vulnerable. As he approached me, I tried to step back, but he reached out and grabbed me roughly. He lifted my chin, examining my face; he squeezed my cheeks, forcing my lips open so he could inspect the inside of my mouth. He began to pat down my bare arms and legs, his hands moving up to my exposed chest. I started to cry, but he ignored my tears. He gave a nod to the woman with the clipboard, and she barked an order for me to move through a door in the opposite wall. Her large palms pushed against my back, and I stumbled forward on legs so weak I was afraid I would fall.

In the next room, I was forced onto a hard bench. Unseen hands grabbed at my long tresses, pulling ruthlessly. Locks of hair fell at my feet, a dull razor painfully shearing my head. Tears fell with the curls, mingling onto a floor littered with blonde, brunette, and auburn tendrils. I heard sobbing all around me.

I heard a scream.

I bolted upright, suddenly awake. At first, I was confused. There was a dull ache in my stomach, and I clutched my middle as I looked around. My vision swam, and I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. I was sitting level with a metal bed frame; all around me were thin, cold steel legs supporting army-issued cots. My cheek felt cold, and when I touched it, my hand came away muddy. I realized I had been lying on the hard ground, and my joints ached as I stretched. My feet were covered in dirt; pebbles stuck to my arms, and I wiped them away irritably. Blinking in the dim light, I saw the roof of the tent overhead. Despite being dirty, at least I was dry. Then I remembered the night before and scrambled to my knees to lean over Gutcha’s frail body. To my relief, she was breathing, her head supported by a small, rolled pillow. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept with a pillow.

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