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A Storm of a Traitor
I could hear footsteps. I could make no noise whatsoever. If I made one
false move, if the floor creaked, they would come in, and find me. That's what I would dream at night, that they would come in and take me away. That is my worst nightmare, to be away from her.
" I know you're in here" he yelled at us. Me and Mother silently gasped. I couldn't see her, but I just knew she was here with me. The only part of her that I could see were her eyes. Mother had that gleam in her eye, the gleam where I just knew that she wouldn't ever leave me. I knew that gleam well; that was the
gleam that father never had. He hasn't been in my life since I was two years old. Somehow, I remember that day very clearly. It was a bright, sunny day, there was
one dark gray cloud, though, right beside the sun. Father had left to go to work. He came back late at night. I was supposed to be in bed. I crept downstairs and heard Mother and Father yelling at each other. The next thing I knew, the door slammed and I heard storming and thundering from outside. It was odd that I
hadn't heard it until Father left.
"I was sure I saw them in this house," he suspiciously rasped to the lady.
"There is no one in this house except me and my husband," she said
impatiently, "And I'd rather you not come into my house without my permission."
"Very well," he said and I heard the door slam. I caught a quick glimpse of him through the slit under the basement door. He was tall, he
had blond hair, and eyes like the ocean on a stormy night. I saw something in his eyes, a hint of suspicion, like he knew we were watching. He looked very familiar;
maybe I knew him from another life. His eyes had so much hate drowned in them.
It's funny, I haven't thought about Father in an extremely long while. Mother says that we just have to forget all the pain he has brought to us, and just move on with our lives. She says that we are better off without him. We have no idea of
where he is now and I think we are better off not knowing. The one thing that I don't remember at all about Father is what he looks like. Mother just tells me that he doesn't look like us, he doesn't look Jewish. I very much look more like my mother than my Father. I miss him sometimes, the way he tried to love me. It just
didn't come naturally to him. It seems like after a while, though, he just gave up trying.
It's been four or five days since I have eaten. I am way past hungry. I am way past starving. I am way past ravenous. There isn't a word to describe the way I am feeling. My body is shaking. I feel dizzy. Mother is far past hungry, too. The lady upstairs always makes her husband go out for errands, and we can't go
upstairs when she is here. When she limps out for a walk every morning, her husband stay home. She is the lightest sleeper I ever knew. Five days ago, Mother and I went to eat, and we got food, and brought it to the basement and she came
down, looking for us. She didn't know who or what to look for so she just came down and looked for anything out of the ordinary. We didn't want to go up and take that risk again. Also, we can't just live in someone else's basement for the rest of our lives.
Mother says that the Nazi glimpsed at us through the basement
window that we came in through and that's how they know that we are here and they keep coming for us. I really hope they don't find us. Mother says that the people in the Nazi have given up everything else in their life to live, and save themselves.
I remember Father's name! It just came to me! It is Brutus. Mother had so many people leave her in her life (like her father) I felt so bad to unwillingly watch Father leave her, too. I feel so sick. Mother must be sick, too. I would do
anything to eat right now- well maybe not anything. I would rather starve to death (which I am close to) than leave Mother. I have a feeling there's not much more time for me on Earth. I need to tell Mother everything now.
"Mother," I whispered.
"Yes, honey," she whispered back.
"I will always love you, and I won't ever leave you."
"I know, honey, I know."
Maybe she sees that same gleam in my eyes as I see in hers, when we
both know what it's like when people have left us. When we know that we would never, ever do that to anyone. That is the gleam that we both share, that we understand.
There was a knock on the door, and I knew it was the Natzi, and I knew I wouldn't make it up there, to the front hallway, for them to shoot me; I would die on my own, before they even got a chance to shoot me. I got the strength to crawl over, and opened the door to the front hallway. I saw him! The Natzi with the stormy blue eyes, full of hatred, with the blond hair. The traitor. It was him,
Brutus! Right then was the point where I couldn't last anymore. I dropped to the ground, and I heard, from Mother,
"You, too Brutus?"
And then I heard thunder.