• There was something to be said about the way he just stood there. The way this child just stared, his eyes glazed over with a tiredness and hunger and an unquenchable thirst. He barely resembled a human, and his skin pulled taunt around his bones. He stood bare, just waiting to be called upon. Waiting to be judged. Waiting for the Germans to determine if he was fit to live.

    His fathers name was called first.

    The boy watched with his dull, empty eyes. Inside him his pulse quickened, and a fear crept into his expression. His father was worse off. His father was weak.

    The German, with little care or concern spoke. Dooming the man that he had examined, to death. The German either didn’t understand, or didn’t care, because as the frail human was dragged off he called the mans son.

    With tears in his eyes to boy stepped forward. He could do nothing, he couldn’t even turn his head to watch his father being taken away. Fear kept him still and stiff as unfamiliar eyes traced over him.

    In the recesses of his mind he screamed with fury and anger. His muscles, what little was left of them, tensed. His father was dead. The only thing left of his family was gone. There was nothing he could do.

    The doctor made a small gesture, but no one came to take the boy away. He had been granted life for one more day.

    The lump in the back of his throat hurt him, and his whole body ached. But he couldn’t cry, he just couldn’t. A gunshot went off somewhere behind him, but it wasn’t for his father. His father would be put to death in the gas chambers.

    The gun went off again, but the boy didn’t even flinch.