The Darling of Dachau

They say

There are four steps to achievement: Plan purposefully. Prepare prayerfully. Proceed positively. Pursue persistently. [William Arthur Ward]

And not once do they mention the fear; the constant fear that puts your stomach in knots, the fear that brings you to exhaustion, to self-doubt, to a thousand thoughts that scream at you: “What if! What if this goes wrong! What if you fail! What if you never get up again! What if you die!”

Then they should start teaching and preaching: The only way to get what you want is to keep going forward, laugh at fear in the face, succeed- or die trying.

I remembered looking at the paper for the first time and feeling a certain sadness. And warmth. Robert Antelem’s hands had held the same paper that mine now did. They read and processed the same words, the same lines, the same stories. And even though he hadn’t written to me in days, I felt as though a part of me was connected to him by words. With that feeling, I read on and soon anger and regret and a thousand emotions all piled on top of each other. They all were taking turns eating me away from the inside out. I remembered disappearing in the headlines, sometimes taking an hour to process a single word, sometimes a second to know what the next section meant. By the time the week was over and I had read the paper from front to back, I had little hope. The world seemed to blackout. I was convinced everything was falling apart.

“I need to find Dirk.” I announced one day at my table. I had just finished reading the last sentence of the paper. I didn’t feel any better as I came to the conclusion. Gleeson took away the picked at remains of my meal and started to walk away. A sudden emotion swept over. I held out a hand to stop him.

“You can leave it here, please. Please. Just stay with me.” The last line cracked but he nodded and set it down.

“Sit.” I whispered. My eyes were wide and away from his when he sat down.

“What am I going to do?” I croaked. He didn’t look at me and he didn’t speak. Instead, he seemed to stare at the letter opener which was left in the center of the table. No new letters from Robert, but several from Nicholas Bartlet. They seemed to be hiding something and the last… it seemed like a farewell. I frowned and repeated my query to Gleeson.

“Ask him why.” he said softly. His big hand reached for the blade and it pressed on his calloused palm. A bead of blood was drawn. Several started to slide down his palm. He smiled widely, taunting me.

“Stop it.” I said sharply and took the knife from his hand. The blade’s cover was in the center of the table which I took, too, and placed on my lap. I swallowed a sickening feeling. I never did well around blood.

“I am going to see Dirk.” I decided, voice shaking. “He needs to tell me… to answer… why.”

Gleeson seemed to understand. Even so, he shook his head. “I was told to keep you here, Hanna. To keep you safe.” His eyes were long.

“I will be safe once I’m with Dirk. Gleeson,” I pleaded. “You have to understand. This is important.”

“Mr. Leven’s instructions were clear and I cannot disobey them. I cannot take you to him.” he said.

“Then I’ll leave.” I concluded. It was a thought that had just formed as it was released from my tongue. My hand leapt to my mouth as I considered the gravity in what I had just said. I didn’t have to see to know Gleeson was just as surprised.

Never. It had been so long since I had left this house. It had become the container that held everything I needed inside. It was a bigger body that I could live in without the troubles and intrusions of the outside world. And I liked it here well enough.

“Sometimes there’s more important things,” I began. My voice quivered, “Sometimes you really need… you really need to do the right thing. Gleeson… you’ve been with me forever. You know me and what’s happened. You know I need to do this.”

There was silence and I jumped a little when he cleared his throat. The sound shocked me.

“Hanna, don’t you understand? I cannot let you go. Orders are orders and I must obey.” his gaze was stern. My eyes widened as my fingers brushed along the brown skirt until my fingers clasped the handle of the letter opener- the knife- the prize for protecting me.

“Gleeson.” I shook, standing now. He remained seated as my palm traced the table and I walked to him. The blade’s cover slipped off and the knife seemed to gleam despite the little light. He smiled widely and for a moment I knew he did want to help me. He truly did. But not unless he was being threatened would he act against orders.

“Gleeson, I need you to take me to Dachau.”

“I cannot do that, Hanna.” his eyes snapped down to the blade. I took it and with a shaky hand, held it at his neck.

“Gleeson.” I felt the wetness in my eye and runniness in my nose. “Take me to Dachau. Now.”

His eyes closed for a second and he exhaled loudly. It didn’t help my thinking. Every muscle moved made my hand shake out of control. The knife dropped from my sweaty grip and fell to the floor. It clanked and bounced and hit against the tile floor. Gleeson was still, eyes remaining closed.

“Pick it up, Hanna.” he commanded in a hushed tone. “Threaten me and I will take you.”

And as I saw the agitation, the pain, the suffering in his eyes, I knew I was hurting him more than he was hurting me. And even then the hurt in my heart made me want to scream.