I'm Your Villian
“Ficken! Wo zur Hölle sind sie gegangen?” (Fuck! Where did they go?) Alfons stopped short; looked around frantically. His nose was bright red, and the large wart that engulfed his face, if even possible, seemed bigger today.
Naomi hated Alfons. Hated the way he talked, his arrogance, his horrible mustache, his undying loyalty for killing innocent people. It disgusted her, and what’s even worse, she had-they were fucking innocent-but Naomi was a soldier for the sake of a super race. Killing was in the job description.
“Auf diese Weise Campbell! Ich rieche Jude.” (This way Campbell. I smell Jew) Alfons pointed his gun towards the dark alleyway, “Kommen, Campbell?” (Coming Campbell?)
Naomi looked at him; breathed, “Ja. Kommen.” (Yeah. Coming.)
*
Her finger was broken. It bent in ways that it shouldn’t, but that wasn’t what consumed her thoughts. It was Katie. Emily sat in a puddle, holding her twin’s head, desperate for Katie to stop fucking whimpering. Katie’s head was bleeding non-stop, and Emily prayed that they just would go away, and she could get Katie home. But she had heard them talking outside of the alleyway; she knew little German, but going off of past incidences, she was sure that they’d be venturing into the alley soon.
“Katie. Listen to me, I need you to be quiet.” Her voice cracked.
Katie slowly nodded; her eyes drooping.
“No, no, no, no. Katie. Katie. Wake up, Wake-“ Emily stopped short; Clack Clack Clack
Katie slumped in her arms; her mouth parted, the blood tracing the lines on her forehead. Emily’s chest contorted; her body heaved, muffling her cries, as she held the unconscious Katie in her arm.
*
“Ficken Judes.” Alfons mumbled as he admired the beam of light splaying across the walls of the building.
Naomi closed her eyes, wished that wasn’t her that they were hunting. It’s not that Naomi didn’t believe in the Aryan race, on the contrary. Some Rebel Jews killed her father and brother, both officers in the German army. Cold-hearted, bloody killing; they only recognized Naomi’s father by his uniform, and Hans, her brother was so tortured that he lost his mind. She hated the Jewish race, but this girl was different, far superior to any Jew that Naomi knew.
It was the flash of the red ribbon in the girl’s hair that caught her eye first. Then the shy smile, as she ordered her food. The girl had spaced out, while her sister chewed her ear off. Naomi had even smiled a bit when the girl looked her way. It happened all so fast: the blast across the street, the screaming, the sirens, the smoke. Thirty Gestapo officers blown to pieces. The girl and her sister smiled, and casually walked out onto the street, which alerted Alfons. He ordered her and Max to follow. Max asked for their papers, and when the sister refused, Alfons took his club and brought it down. Hard. The crack caused Naomi to flinch, and when she reopened her eyes, the girl and her sister had taken off. About thirty minutes into the chase, Max caught up to them, only to be surprised with a pistol and a shot to the gut.
But still, Naomi held their breath for them, and swallowed her disappointment when she spotted a yellow shoe sticking out from a crevasse in the wall, “Alfons, Recht hier.”
*
Her feet were starting to hurt; Katie was too heavy, and this dragging thing was not working well. She had mud everywhere; her nice blouse ruined, stained by Katie’s blood. Walking bare foot in Poland was stupid, and the pain that was running up her leg, reminded her of such; made Emily wish that she hadn’t given her brand new yellow shoes to that girl. But the girl looked so lost, and cold that Emily couldn’t help but say “Here”.
She felt Katie shiver against her; tightened her grip on her younger half.
Emily violently shook her head, trying to shake the guilt that washed over her. The fucking bomb. If they had actually listened to Thomas, if they hadn't planted it-- Katie wouldn’t be like this, and they’d be home, having sater with her mum and dad.
It’s not like she regretted the bomb. No-those assholes got what they deserved.
She just wished that it had gone differently.
Much, much differently.
*
Naomi waited patiently through the screaming entity that was Alfons. Like it was her fault that instead of the two girls, they found a shivering 7 year old girl, surrounded by snow and blood that was obviously not hers. She bit the inside of her cheeks; tasted her own blood. The feeling gnawed at her; pitted her stomach. Knowledge of that the next time Naomi saw the redhead will be the last.