Schatzi

32

An: if people are getting confused by the timeline rn...so am I. I am very very confused as to when I was trying to set each of the most recent chapters

It was another week until Jens heard any word of Peter.

The night when Peter had told him what was going on had been a blur and he hadn't been able to ask him any proper questions so he could actually understand what had happened.

When he woke up the next morning, he'd thought that Peter was probably just being dramatic and that he'd be fine. But then he realised he wasn't there at roll call. And he wasn't there at dinner. And he didn't return to sleep that night. Or the night after, or the night after.

He heard nothing. No one could tell him anything.

He begged Friedrich for information, but he'd been very steely with him recently and he wouldn't even try to learn anything about Peter for him.

So he just assumed Peter had been right, and that he was dead.

It was the most probable answer of the question he'd been asking anyone he laid eyes on for the last 3 days.

And then after a week, one of the younger boys in their block ran up to him during work. They were assisting the nearby block which had become known as 'the gypsy camp' where they were still making barracks and buildings to accommodate the rising numbers of prisoners. Their job was to carry materials back and forth from the trains that they came in on to the building sites. It was exhausting, arduous work but at least they'd get a break from carrying things on the walk back to the trains. It was at this time that the boy ran up to Jens, knowing the kapo would turn a blind eye to the interruption because of his special relationship with Jens.

"I saw your friend the other day," he said, walking alongside him, having to walk quickly to keep up with Jens's longer strides. "He's on the other side of the compound. They've got him working at 'Strafkompanie' my friend said. He's been working here longer than I have, so he knew what it was called, but I don't know what that means. What does that mean?"

Jens looked down at the boy who didn't look older than 16, maybe even 15. He asked too many questions.

"Strafkompanie is where they take prisoners to punish them," Jens explained. "The work is harder there, even harder than what we do. In the quarries a lot of the time. Deadly. And they execute most of the ones who work there eventually anyway."

So Peter was doomed, almost certainly. He wasn't coming back from there anytime soon, and even then, the odds of it were very low.

"Oh," the boy mumbled. "That doesn't sound good." He paused, looking down at the ground before perking up a bit more and running to catch up with Jens again. "So what's your name? Mine's is Tommy, and before you say it, no I'm not English. I'm actually from Dachau, the town, so it was pretty easy for them to get me here. But yeah, my mum heard that all the parents in the big cities were naming their children English names. She'd heard it was all the rage, so she named me the most British name in all of existence. She's not got a drop of English blood in her though, hadn't even met one I'd bet."

Jens listened to the kid ramble, grateful for the distraction from the pain that jolted up his back with every step. Friedrich had hurt him again the night before: slammed him against the wall when he wouldn't talk to him, then wrestled him to the floor, causing Jens to fall onto the back of the bed when he tried to fight Friedrich off.

It had happened every single night. He fought and struggled but it only seemed to urge Friedrich on more. He would get angry, but then he seemed to enjoy taking that anger out on Jens whenever he could. But He knew it was only so long though before he got bored and moved onto another younger, prettier and more complacent boy.