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The (Extended) Diary of Anne Frank
The (Extended) Diary of Anne Frank
I don’t know what day it is.
My desolate world is suddenly filled with joy. That was my first thought when I found this scrap of paper and the stub of coal I'm writing with. I have felt so lost without my diary, my confident. I have been drifting through a sea of misery and these tools are my life raft. I don’t have much time, so let me catch up since my last diary.
After the Secret Police took us, we went to the Gestapo Headquarters, where we were interrogated. Oh, it was horrible. They hurt Papa! He wouldn’t give up Meip or Mr. Krauler so they hit him! But, oh, I am proud of Papa. He made up a wonderfully believable story so Meip and Mr. Krauler would be safe. (I hope.) After the interrogations, we were all transferred to Huis van Bewaring. It really was a horrible place, but we only stayed there for two days. Now, we are all at Westorbork and oh, how I long for Huis van Bewaring. When we got here, guards stripped us naked, (they were men!) and tattooed our arms. They also shaved our heads, and I cried over Margot’s beautiful hair as it fell. I thought of telling them “Watch it Mister, I’m a lady.” But I thought it wasn’t the best time for that.
We were considered criminals and were forced to work for the Nazis. I am so happy I am Jewish, so I won’t have to go to a different hell when I die. And how some days I long for death. The men and women are separated, so Mama, Margot, Mrs. Vann Dan and I all sleep together with hundreds of other women in a terribly crowded room. I catch glimpses of Peter and Papa, but never Mr. Vann Dan. I fear he is dead. But, oh, when I do see Peter and Papa…that is the only thing that keeps me going. How I—
Fifteen days after I last wrote.
Sorry about cutting off like that. One of the guards was walking past our bunks and I knew I would be punished for writing. But, I saw Peter! Not just a quick glimpse, but a proper conversation and everything. (Well, a fence separated us and we couldn’t look at each other or make any indication that we were conversing, so I wouldn’t call it proper but…) I felt so ashamed of my bald head, but he said I was as beautiful as ever. He told me Papa was fine and that he made a friend whose name was Casper. I told him about Eva, the girl who slept next to Mama and me who was trying to teach us English. Just before we parted Peter risked the guards and reached through a hole in the fence and grabbed my hand.
“Don’t be scared Anne, please don’t be scared.”
“But it’s so hard not to be Peter, how do you do it?” I asked him.
He pulled me to him and wrapped his fingers through the fence and through mine. “I remember there is always someone watching over me.” He whispered in my ear.
“Who?” I asked breathlessly.
He kissed my check, ever so softly and let go. He turned and began to walk to the men’s barracks. “Who?” I whisper-called after him.
He looked back and smiled. “Mouschi. Didn’t you know that Anne?”
I swear that boy was mad. Hopelessly, amazingly, beautifully mad.
Ten days after I last wrote.
Mr. Vann Dan died yesterday. He was gassed. Peter told me and he started to cry. I never liked him much but he was still Peter’s dad. And I couldn’t even comfort him because the guards were coming toward us. Oh, I hate those stupid Germans! I was so close to walking up to one of the guards and telling him to go to hell. But, then I would be gassed and it would break Peter’s heart even more.
And there’s even more bad news, Margot and I have scabies. So now were in the infirmary, and I thought I knew hunger in the barracks, but this is torture. One dirty glass of water and one piece of bread for each of us. And the tougher women steal our food. Mama found a hole in the wall near Margot’s and my beds. She sneaks us her food and it kills me to say I eat it. Mama needs it more than me, but she insists that I have it. I really treated her badly before we were captured. How I wish I could turn back time…
Three days after I last wrote.
No. No, no, no, no, NO! Margot and I are being shipped to Bergen-Belsen. And Mama is not. Mrs. Vann Dan is also but no Mama, no Papa no Peter! How shall I go on? We’re on the train right now and it’s so dark and smelly and crowded and I think I might die. On the way out, Peter jumped the gate. Guards were everywhere and I knew they could kill him. And so did he. But when he saw me being led out, he ran over.
“Anne,” he stared right in my eyes, “Don’t give up Anne. For me please. I—”
“Peter, what is it?” The guards were coming and he needed to go before they caught him.
“I love you. I have for a long time now, and I can’t let you go without telling you.”
My eyes widened. I knew the ladies around me could hear us because I could hear them crying. “I love you too.” I told him.
Peter brought my lips to his and kissed me hard and fire raced through my veins. I loved him I really, truly did. And I was leaving and I would never see him again and, and, and—oh, great now I’m crying—and I was crying then to, and I knew he was to because I could taste his tears, or maybe they were mine but none of that mattered because I loved him and he loved me and for one second everything was perfect and then it wasn’t.
His lips were ripped off of mine and a cry tore from my lips. “Peter!”
“Don’t forget Anne. I love you!”
“I love you too!” I called after him.
“One day Anne, you and me are going to own a house and have millions of little babies and a cat named Mouschi Jr. and everything will be alright.”
“Of course, one day we’ll be together Anne darling, I promise.” And he smiled at me and I knew that we would because Peter just knew these things. And then guards were shoving me to the busses and I looked back before I got on and Peter was looking back at me and I just knew.
I knew that even if I never saw him again, if I died right then and there, if we never had a house and kids and a cat, I would be happy. I would be happy because he loved me. And I loved him.
And that was all that mattered.