Frederick was a Nazi. More specifically, an S.S. Officer. He was the big boss of the concentration camp. He strutted around,  chest puffed up like a proud rooster. The perfect Aryan with light blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. He was quite tall and muscled, which made him rather intimidating, especially when he was upset. He had several medals, since he had fought well and proven his worth to the  Führer . He walked on top of the concrete wall surrounding the camp, looking down at the weak and frail prisoners. Jews, Gypsies, Catholics, and all of  that jazz. He hated the  Jews, and believed they should be treated as animals. You see, when he was young, his father was very prejudice about them. He had been brought up to hate them. Then when this influential man came along, Adolf Hitler, he told the country about how the Jews  caused all of  their problems and how it would be merciful to wipe them off the face of the earth. Of course, Frederick agreed, being born and raised to destroy their race.

There were other minorities that he imprisoned as well like the gypsies and a few gays. He didn’t like either of them but the Jews; they made his blood boil. He looked up into the godforsaken sky that had been painted with the dark smoke from the hundreds of bodies that were burned every day. What he hated even more though was the sickly smell of the rotting bodies that hadn’t been collected for incineration. The smell was sometimes so strong that it made him gag. He tolerated it though, because he wanted to watch the prisoners suffer and burn. One of the guards walked up to him. His brown hair and face stained with blood. Frederick sighed. “So...is he dead yet?” 

 “Yes sir, beaten to a pulp.” The young man's eyes beamed with excitement.

“Good. He irritated me. Go home soldier, get some rest. You’ve done well today.”

“Thank you sir.”  His eyes glowed like sapphires in the dim light.

Frederick nodded, holding his arm up, “Hail Hitler!” The other soldier saluted as well, leaving the area. He walked along the wall, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath. The smoke weighed down on him like a huge blanket that he could not find an escape from. He heard the prisoners muttering softly, which wasn’t unusual here, and leaned over the wall, looking down into the group of filth, wearing their striped uniforms. They were covered with smears of dirt and ash. He scoffed, climbing down the ladder to see what was going on. His leg got tangled in barbed wire and he fell, hanging upside down. The sharp metal caught onto his skin and tore his flesh. Frederick screamed in agony, grasping at his leg, praying that the pain would disappear. But he realized it wouldn’t, no matter how much he wished it away. The sky was getting darker. Well, darker than usual anyways. Sometimes the smoke was so thick you couldn’t tell whether it was day or night. He was scared, for obvious reason. He was the last man here for the night.

And here he was, alone and severely injured, surrounded by prisoners that would probably love to take their anger out on him. He swung there slowly in midair, several pairs of eyes staring at him. His vision began to darken  and he gasped in a breath, trying his hardest to stay awake. One of the Jews  stepped forward , walking towards him. Frederick’s eyes suddenly glazed over and closed as his mind slowly floated into an unconscious state. He felt cold. That’s all. Just cold. He felt like he was drowning in a vast, dark ocean. Nowhere to rest, knowing that no matter how much he fought and struggled in the darkness, his fate was imitate. Just as he surrendered to the waves, someone grabbed his hand. It yanked him upwards, out of the water and into life once again. Frederick gasped, opening his eyes. He couldn’t see very well but figured one of the soldiers had been late to leave and saved him from the awful savages. He couldn’t see very well but heard a gentle, kind voice speaking to him. He still couldn’t make the man out.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be just fine now. Relax, I’ve got you.” 

“T-thank y-you soldier..” 

He heard a soft chuckle, “Indeed. You rest now.” 

He fell into a deep sleep, exhausted. His leg still hurt badly. Even in his sleep, he could feel the pulsing of his own heart. Such an unusual thing. He had always wondered why you feel that when you get hurt. He began dreaming about his childhood. “Daddy, but I want to be a doctor..” He hissed,“No! You will be a soldier, like me. You will fight for our land like I did.” His father's cruel eyes beamed down upon him.“I don’t wanna kill people.” Frederick stared at him defiantly. “Well, you have no choice!”

He flinched as he was smacked across the face. Tears flooded his eyes. His Aryan father punched him in the stomach and he fell, watching him walk away.

He hated looking like him. Frederick’s father had been a soldier in World War One. His father had been plagued with the sickness that many soldiers throughout the course of time. A mental sickness. It invaded his mind and thoughts. This made him a very angry, demanding, and strict father. It wasn’t his fault, Frederick knew that now, but there was no changing the past. He had grown up, being forced into the mindset of a soldier. When in reality, his true self had told him to heal. He groaned softly, waking up on a bed of straw. He opened his eyes once again, this time seeing the Jew that stood before him. He was dark skinned with dark hair and eyes. He sat up immediately. His chest went up and down, forcing him into a panic. He couldn’t walk, and now this jew stood before him. He was like a patient fox, waiting for the clueless rabbit to squeeze out of it’s little hole so he could snap it’s neck and devour it whole. The man spoke softly, grasping one of his shoulders and carefully preventing him from standing up, “Shh..It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you.”