For awhile, I thought everything was perfect. They put a little star on my clothing after a little bit, which my mother didn’t like but she and father dared not to take them off. They were scared to. I didn’t understand why, at first, they never told me or if they did, it was deep in the meaning of one of their life lesson stories. All they said was listen to them, and if they tell you to do something, you are to do it. It’s safer that way. I didn’t get it, but I knew if they were scared about it, I should be too. My friends and their families slowly disappeared. Father told me they had moved, but mother told me at night that it may be a bit more scary than that. She said in two days, we were going to grab very few things and leave too but the night before, our door was knocked down and we were only given ten minutes to grab our belongings. I wanted to bring my cat Alexa, but they wouldn’t let me. Mother held my hand and wept silently as we left the house with what little we could carry and I glanced back at the house, not completely understanding that that would be the last time I would see my home or my beloved cat again.
From there, we were put in a very crowded cattle car, Mother gripped me close and father put his arm around her shoulder, consoling her. I understood that things weren’t looking good and I had been frightened since we left home. Julie, a girl two years older than I was, ten years old, explained to me that people didn’t like us because we are Jews. She told me that nobody really knew for certain what happened after this trip. They just knew it was something bad. I didn’t like the trip. It smelled terrible and I was hungry. When we finally stopped, they pushed us out of the car and the men and boys were to go a different direction than the women and girls. I had screamed for him, and he had grabbed me for a hug and whispered “Go with your mother, It will be okay.” He let me go as a man in uniform pulled me off and shoved me towards mother. We were welcomed to Auschwitz, though the welcome wasn’t very friendly at all. The older women and the really young children were taken in yet another direction. Mother told me they were probably going to be going to a place for care. I wanted to believe her but the place looked terrifying. It was dark, with only the large bright lights placed strategically around the entrance. The fences were high with spiked wire on top, and the uniformed officers stood around and would lash anyone who did something wrong. I saw one of my neighbor’s daughters, a two year old, be escorted away with the group and I worried about her.
Inside, we had to undress while a doctor checked us to make sure we were healthy but I was worrying the entire time that I wasn’t healthy enough for them. Mother wasn’t allowed to go past with me. My neighbor, Anne, the two year old’s mother, had grabbed my shoulders and made me go with her and her oldest daughter instead of with my mother. I wept that night, for I feared I would not see her again. They said we had two days of rest and then we would work. I didn’t know what type of work we’d be doing, and I didn’t want to know. We hadn’t enough to eat, and when we ate, I was afraid that it would be the last meal I’d ever have. They put us work quickly and while we worked, they would hit us or pound us with their weapons if we messed up. They would even kill someone in front of everyone. Sometimes they didn’t even have a reason to kill the person. I didn’t think they had any reason at all most of the time anyway. They just despised us. Well, I despised them too. I could never look when they hurt someone, and once, when I did look up, I saw Julie, the girl from the cattle car, crying on a stage as she was lashed and beaten. I wanted to scream out and help her, but they pulled her up by her hair, threw a rope around her neck and hung her, right in the middle of the clearing. I cried silently, watching as she struggled against the rope. I had to look away for