Deception - WWII Resistance / Holocaust Novel

Chapter 13

Herr Fehmer fumbled with his keys then struggled to place the key in the hole after japing it into the surrounding frame. Finally, the door unlocked and it pushed it open with an extended arm, allowing me to walk inside first.

I scanned my eyes around his private chambers. In the middle was a large double sized bed, neatly made and framed by two headlamps on either side. The large window overlooked the bed, the curtains were thin, almost see through. The walls were bare, no pictures on them. To the right-hand side when entering the room was another door to which I assumed was a bathroom. There were two large wardrobes and a desk in the corner of the room which peaked my interest.

'How...lovely,' I turned around to give him a wide smile.

'My offer still stands,' Herr Fehmer grins as he begins to pour me a glass from the bottle of wine which stood on the side table.

'You are too kind Herr Fehmer, but I must politely decline once again,' I take the glass from his finger tops. When I accepted the job, he had offered me accommodation, but I stated that it would not be necessary. I assumed that Anneke stayed somewhere on the premises. It would make sense, but I thought it would be too risky. I would need to be extra cautious at all times.

'As you wish,' He pulls himself a glass and downs it in one swift chug. 'Hermann. I said call me Hermann.'

'Hermann,' I nod.

He excuses himself to the bathroom and I cannot help, but notice how he struggles to keep his balance, swaying from side to side, left and right. As soon as he shuts the door, I place the wine glass down and quickly make a bolt for the desk. I flip through the numerous sheets of paper littered on his desk, scanning the titles of each letter, but none seem to offer anything of importance. I begin to pull at the handles of the two draws, but they are both locked. I pull out one of my hair pins and begin to pick the lock. After several attempts I hear the click of the lock and thrust the draw open. However, all there is bits of stationary – another downfall.

Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering makes me look up, 'Are you alright?'

'I- I'm fine!' he grumbles.

I draw my attention towards the next draw and repeat the process. After a few attempts once again, the draw opens. Inside is a tattered leather book, I begin to flip through the pages filled with cursive writing. Noting the dates at the top of each page and scanning through the paragraphs, I soon realize that it's a journal.

Herr Fehmer's journal.

Hermann's journal.

I begin to skip towards the pages from where he begins to speak about his times in Amsterdam. Most of it seemed like ordinary every day details about his life or how he missed home. My hand freezes when I find a small picture of a young woman caught between the sheets. She had blonde curled hair which framed her delicate her face, her eyes bright, smile wide. She looked like the kind of girl which women envied for the intelligent beauty which she radiated. She appeared flawless in her bone structure, her nose perfectly carved, her skin almost smooth as silk.

She was so beautiful.

But something irked me about her.

I could not put my finger on it.

Just as I am about turn the page, hoping to find any information concerning the young woman's identity, I hear the bathroom door swing right open. I drop the journal and the shut the draw, bolting away from the desk, grabbing the wine glass, I gulp down its contents whilst trying to appear calm and collected.

Hermann slumps out of the bathroom. The top buttons of his shirt are undone. He throws his top half of his uniform over the couch before staggering towards me.

'Another glass?' he pries the empty glass from my hand without even waiting for my reply.

'I am quiet fine, thank you.'

He eyes me curiously, before placing the glass back on the table in a wobbly fashion and taking a swig directly from the bottle. I chew my lip uncomfortably at the site of him.

'Did you enjoy yourself?' He asks as he walks towards the bed with the bottle in one hand. He places it on the bedside table and begins to untie his shoes.

'Yes, of course, it was superb' I gush. 'Did you?'

My question makes him laugh lightly, he takes another swig from the bottle before he walks towards me, 'But of course. I was with you.'

'The wine is speaking for you Herr Fehmer,' I turn away from him.

'N-no i-it is not,' he brings his hand towards my chin so that he can turn my face to look directly at him. 'I said, call me Hermann,' he breathes. I try to mask the disgust from my face as I get smell the harsh scent of wine on his breath.

'I want to get to know you better.'

'Is that so?'

'Ja.'

'And how shall we go about that?'

'Take off your dress,' he commands suddenly.

'What?'

'I said, take off your dress,' he repeats, this time more impatiently.

'And if I don't?' I challenge.

'I won't ask so nicely again,' he pushes the strap of my dress to the side so that it falls pass my shoulder.

'You're drunk,' I push his lingering hand off of my shoulder.

He furrows his brows, looking displeased. He licks his lips, 'And?' He grabbed my face, his large hand almost covering the entire half of my face, forcing me to look into his red sunken eyes, 'I said take your dress off.'

He pushes me so that I fall with my back onto the bed. I arch myself up by the shoulders and shift backwards as he begins to climb on top of me. His hands begin to roam my body, his breath warm on my neck. He mumbles senseless, incoherent words as he begins to tug at my dress. I try to push him off of me, his weight crushing me, but he grabs my arms, pinning them down beside me. Eventually, I stop squirming underneath his heavy body. I stare at the ceiling and bite down on my lower lip, my eyes begin to burn, tears threatening to fall, but I don't allow it. I shut my eyes, gulp down the sob threatening to escape and pretend that my body and mind are no longer one.