Soft Steps

When Lucy came home I was about ready to kill her for making me worry so much for so long. Then as she retold her experience in town with Colonel Hans Landa as well as the other Gestapo soldiers I grew dubious of our actual safety. Colonel Hans Landa had a reputation, and it was not a good one. He was the Jew Hunter; one of Hitler’s go to guys and not someone we wanted to have around.

Lucy was quite shaken by the dead bodies of the Nazi soldiers and she couldn’t even bring herself to eat much dinner, I felt that she was lucky that it had not been her that was her. She was the more naïve one of us two and I think that the whole experience had shaken her whole world like a great earthquake. Perhaps I should have gone instead of her to town maybe then I could have protected her from seeing the world for what it was.

A few weeks passed and they were spent adjusting to the new living conditions. Little Brandon began naming the farm animals. It was a nice life out in the French control so far even if it required a lot of hard work to run the farm. I felt myself getting a little more at ease no longer having to be passed around from man to man as a taxi dancer. Freedom of that was great, because my sanity had already suffered so badly from other aspects of my life.

The sun was making its way to the west signaling that soon the night would come. I had started chopping up various vegetables for the soup I was starting to make for dinner. Busy on making us some dinner the sound of vehicles on the dirt road brought me out of my focus and I exchanged a look with Lucy who was setting the table while Brandon played with a ball on the ground.

As the engines were turned off the only sound in the house was of Brandon bouncing the ball on the floorboards. Lucy looked at me as there was a loud heavy knock on the front door of the house. Wiping my hands on the apron I headed towards the front door and opened it slowly to reveal a small unit of Gestapo soldiers.

The Nazi men wasted no time to come into the house without so much as a word. It the two frontman that seemed to be the leaders one had jet black hair and the other dirty blonde. Judging by the medals the one with blonde hair and a thin face was the leader a sergeant at best. He was the first to speak in German looking at me with a twisted smile that made his face look even more unnatural.

“Sind Sie nicht ein hübsches Ding das Französisch wissen, wie ihre Frauen machen ya Gullich? (Aren’t you a pretty thing, the French know how to make their women ya Gullich?),” the man with dirty blonde hair says smirking at he looked me up and down.
“Ja mein Feldwebel (Yes my Sergeant),” the other replies looking at me as well. I didn’t know what he was saying but I knew I sure as hell didn’t like the way he looked at me.

It was beyond awful and the night I once thought would be quiet and relaxing soon turned for the worse. The soldiers were demanding in every way. We had to be careful with what we said and hardly spoke more than the typical yes or no. The men were less than cordial and often touched my arm or leg inappropriately. When one grabbed me more roughly I was taken to a bad place in my mind.

My mother and I just got done working at the tailor’s shop where we worked long hours hemming and fitting clothes for people. The sun was beginning to grow lazy and lean on the horizon. My mother decided that we should celebrate that Friday and go out for a nice dinner wearing elegant dresses she had been working on.

We were a couple blocks from our modest home when the five men came from the shadows.

Of course we kept our heads down attempting to avoid any sort of interaction because we tended to get heckled by some people because my mother was Mexican. It was terrible but just because we were not Anglo we were always disrespected and verbally attacked with cruel derogatory terms.

“What are you doing here you damn immigrant?” one man snarls looking directly at my mother. My mother was soft spoken and kind so when they talked so poorly of her I wanted to retaliate and say something back. She clutched my hand noticing my rigid posture that signified my obvious annoyance and rage that was building up. We tried to walk around them but our path was blocked by their hulking figures that towered over our small frames.

“Please let us be,” my mother says in her thick accent.
“Don’t ya dare taint our language with your disgusting accent,” another man growls shoving my mother.
“We never did anything to you!” I snap narrowing my eyes at him, “Leave us be!”
“Oh look at this one she’s feistier than the older one.”
“Don’t touch me,” I snarl slapping the man’s hand away.

Before I knew it they were laughing and my mother’s hand was ripped from mine. I screamed and kicked as three men took me from her whilst the other two took my mother. My mother’s dark brown eyes glittered with tears as they ripped at her dress and beat her senseless. Her screams echoed in my mind and I fought harder against my captors.

I was being hit repeatedly the more I fought against them. My fighting did not cease and I managed to get a leg free then kicked one of my captors in the testicles. I tried to run to save my mother from getting raped by the men.

“You little whore!” the man behind me screams as I was ripped back by the hair. I was thrown on the ground and kicked in the ribs. Howls of pain emanated from my lips as each boot made contact with my abdomen. Each sound me or my mother made was met with laughter.

Eventually we stopped making any sounds of pain. One of the men straddled my aching body tearing at my clothes and I squirmed under his weight trying to throw punches at his frame but I was clocked in the face with his iron fist.

My vision grew blurry and I turned my head to see my mother’s body be ravaged by one of the men. That was the last thing I had seen before my whole world grew black.

My eyes narrowed at the Nazi man and my fists clenched at my sides. Lucy was at my side giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I opted to go to the kitchen and get the men more drinks or that’s at least what I planned because if I didn’t get out of the living room I would attempt to murder those bastards.

Once I was in the kitchen I clutched the counter top until my knuckles were ghost white. I let out a heavy sigh trying to steady my breathing and my body that shock from anger. Just one night, I repeated in my mind. Just one night and they will leave my home.

Of course the night was one of the longest but once the soldiers went to sleep and Lucy, Brandon and I huddled together in one small bed to keep safe I got no sleep just kept my eyes open out of fear that they would attack. A wave of relief hit me as soon as the Gestapo soldiers left the confines of my grandfather’s farm.

The day was spent trying to relax and I was shaken still so Lucy took it upon herself to search for Roger the cow that little Brandon had seemed to let loose from his stall. I attempted to protest but Lucy just told me to relax and watch Brandon while he plays with the baby chicks.

Reluctantly I agreed and found myself playing with the small yellow chickens that had recently hatched. The day was a little brighter seeing the joy on little Brandon’s face as he pet their silky feathers.