Schatzi

20

Peter sat by himself on the tiny bed, legs drawn up to his chest, head against his knees as he rocked back and forth, the only sound in the block his heavy breathing. He'd been holding back tears for so long now, too scared to do anything but keep going. But now he'd been left alone after being taken to this silent building and told to stay there by the prisoner who'd told him he was the Kapo. He didn't know what that meant but he'd made it sound like he was important, so Peter vowed to treat him with a bit more respect from now on if he wanted to survive in this place.

He looked up when he heard the door to the barrack open with a grinding squeal and the sound of voices from outside. Prisoners, all of them looking the same at first glance with their uniforms and shaved hair, filed inside, stopping when they saw him sitting on the bed.

Peter didn't say anything, and neither did they. They just stared, waiting for one side to break the silence. Eventually, the prisoners did.

"Why's it just you?" The one at the front asked, his tone laced with anger already. "Why are you here?"

"I-I dont know, I just got told to wait in here until you got back. I just arrived today, a couple of hours ago," he said quickly, shuffling back on the bunk.

"But where's the others that arrived on the train with you?" He asked.

"It was just me. They grabbed me off the street and put me straight on a train with a group of Polish Jews. They noticed I was a Christian though so I told them I was gay. And then they put me here."

"Well that's pretty fucking stupid," the man muttered and a couple of people behind him nodded in agreement.

"Wh-what was?" Peter asked slowly. "What did I do?"

"Told them you were gay," he explained. "They hate us here, more than they hate the rest of the groups -Jews, gypsies, commies, all that lot. I mean, they hate us all but they really hate us."

"Yeah...the guy-the kapo guy- told me you get treated bad here."

"Don't go around thinking you understand what we've gone through here," he said aggressively, taking a step towards Peter who quickly scrambled up off the bunk and into the narrow isle between the beds.

He raised his hands as if in surrender.
"I didn't say that. I didn't mean for it to sound like that, okay?"

"Some of us have been here for a year, okay? So don't come in here and think you know shit about this place because you heard one thing."

He kept advancing towards Peter who kept backing up until his back hit the wall and he didn't have anywhere else to go. He grabbed front of his shirt forcefully, holding onto him tightly. The rest of the men living in this barrack just looked bored and waited behind the one advancing on Peter, just waiting until they could silently slip into their own bunk and then paying no more attention to the disturbance.

"One year?" A voice called from somewhere Peter couldn't see. "Really? That's all you've got?" The man the voice belonged to stepped forward so he was just a couple of feet away. Peter stared at him for a couple of seconds, swearing he recognised that face.

"What year is it, Peter?"

Jens. The one from the party. The host of the first of many parties and meetings he'd taken Eli to. They'd all assumed he was dead after that night when the house was raided and Roland was shot. But he was here. And somehow alive.

Peter remembered him from back when he was still at university, when they were still young and carefree - risking being caught with the over the top parties they'd throw. Jens had always been popular. He'd always been the one surrounded by girls outside of classrooms, in the courtyard, or wherever he went basically. He'd chat to them in a friendly matter, flirt a little because he felt he had to to keep up pretences that he was into girls. He was kind and good natured, and he always had something funny to say that took any tension out of the air.

Of course, his main pull was his undeniable good looks. Sun kissed, clear skin and a long but chiselled face, with high, defined cheekbones and a jaw line as sharp as a knife. Big and wide green eyes that glinted gold in the sunlight. Thick, expressive eyebrows that were surprisingly dark considering his auburn hair that fell in soft waves over his forehead, swept over to the one side most of the time. He was tall, taller than Peter by a couple of inches, and well built, with broad shoulders and defined muscles that he liked to show off by wearing tight shirts that were mostly undone almost all the time. He'd literally been perfect.

But almost all of that was gone now. He was still handsome, sure, and he was less of a walking skeleton than some of the others in the room, but he was so different it had taken Peter a while to recognise him. His pretty hair was gone as well as his tan, his cheeks more sunken in and his frame significantly more slender and weak looking. He held deep dark circles under his eyes which had lost that spark from inside them.

Dead and empty. It wasn't just his eyes that had lost their spark. Just everything about him was like it had been replaced by a cheap copy of a man, running on cogs and steam instead of a beating heart.

"1938," Peter answered, his voice sounding distant to him, like someone else was saying it from another room and not like it was coming from his own mouth.

Jens nodded and thought for a second.
"So that's 4 years, Max, so stop boasting and leave my friend alone," he said, glaring at the one threatening Peter, the one he'd called Max.

Max dropped his fistful of the fabric of Peter's shirt and turned to Jens instead. The way Jens spoke to him made it sound like he ran the place, although that seemed unlikely. Max was skinny but still looked strong enough to knock Jens' lights out. And that's what he aimed to do by the looks of it as he grabbed a hold of Jens and slammed him against the edge of the bunks, his back hitting one of the thick wooden beams. He heard him groan and saw him scrunch his face up in pain.

The rest of the room was paying attention now. Something about Jens being attacked had stirred up emotions as people rushed to hold Max back from beating the shit out of him.

He heard choruses of ''max, stop' and 'it's not worth it', 'leave him alone' and 'what about the kapo?'

"I don't care about the fucking kapo right now," Max snarled, face inches from Jens'. There was clear hatred in his eyes as they scanned his features, lip curled back like a growling dog. "He gets everything easier around here just because he's that psycho's little bitch, while the rest of us are left to scrounge around in the dust for just enough to survive."

Jens pushed max back in retaliation, rolling his eyes.
"I still work, you douche bag, I still do the same stuff you do. Don't act like I have things that much easier than you because you know that's a lie, and any benefits I get I share with the others. Maybe if you were a bit nicer to me I'd treat you too."

Max looked like he wanted to stab Jens for a second, a raging fire in his eyes, but then he went out and backed down, letting go of Jens's shirt. He backed off and walked back to his bunk without another word.

Peter immediately ran over and pulled Jens into a bone crushing hug, which wasn't just a figure of a speech. He quickly loosened his hug when he felt Jens' ribs from beneath his shirt. He was so skinny he felt like he could break him like a twig.

"I thought you were dead, you sneaky bastard," he whispered into his shoulder. "We all thought they'd killed you!"

"Still alive," Jens said with a weak smile, beckoning Peter over to the bunk nearest the door. "Just." The bunks were three high, and Jens clambered up onto the top one, beckoning Peter up with him as well. "We have a lot to talk about," he whispered, lying down on the lumpy and thin straw filled mattress as there wasn't enough room to sit or stand up on the bed with the ceiling so low.

"Tell me what happened," Peter replied, lying so he was facing Jens, gripping his hand tightly between them. "Tell me everything."