Colette
Copyright© 2022 by Iskander
Chapter 1
Ravensbrück Concentration Camp, 10 am, Thursday 16th November 1944
The cell door crashed open, revealing Vogel in his immaculate SS uniform and I read my end in his arrogant smile.
A guard reached in, grabbing my arm, pulling me to my feet, pushing me down the corridor towards the door to the execution yard. I had watched others take this journey and knew it awaited me. Through the door the sky was a dome of frosty blue, winter sunshine splashing extravagantly onto the concrete walls, honeying their greys. A distant honking pulled my eyes to a pair of elegant geese, sailing above the north German plain towards the Baltic.
The guard stopped and I turned round in his grasp. Vogel stood motionless behind me, adjusting the set of his black uniform jacket which he deemed fractionally incorrect. His eyes flicked to the guard, motioning him away. Then his cold eyes found mine.
I stood in a strange calmness, yet a butterfly softly beat its wings in regret, somewhere below my heart.
“There will be retribution.”
I spoke a simple truth. Even here in Ravensbrück, news of the Nazi’s continuing defeats in both the east and west trickled in but it did not raise hope: hope required energy and we had none. Surviving each hungry, painful, limping day absorbed all our effort. But we knew an end approached, somewhere in the future.
Vogel’s lips narrowed to a thin smile, one sardonic eyebrow raised. “You think such a threat will save you?” He spoke excellent English.
I waited before replying, savouring another breath. “I am not trying to save myself.” I kept my voice even. “I’m trying to save you.”
I saw a flicker in his eye.
A whisper of self-doubt, perhaps?
He stepped back and lifted his pistol from its holster, half-raising it towards me. “Enough. On your knees.”
How strange at this moment to recall the anger of Madame Joubert, my Maths teacher, when I giggled as she told me off.
“And if I don’t, what then?” I chuckled softly. “You’ll shoot me?” The same grim comedy filled this situation, even though the end of it ... was my end.
His eyes narrowed as I held his gaze, taunting him. “Is it difficult to shoot a woman who is staring into your eyes?”
His lips thinned, the pressure outlining them in white. As he stepped forward, the black circle of the pistol barrel grew towards me.
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