I now lay in my bunk staring at nothing but the blackness of the night in front of me. It has been hours since I saw the Jew creature and yet my mind still wanders back to that hole in the wooden floor and those gorgeous green eyes that stared at me like I was death. And I should have been that Jew's death, but something stopped me from fulfilling my orders….this…bothered me. I am a proud Frenchman. I follow my orders as I am told, I pray to a god I do not believe in…I am a soldier made for nothing but bringing the end to the enemies of my countrymen and women. So…why could I not take my shovel and end that one person's life like I have to any others of mankind before?
I can not help but to contemplate this as I turn to my side, feeling the discomfort of the wool blankets scratch against my bare chest. I close my eyes, sighing once as I bring a calloused hand up to my steel dotages, calmly I begin running my thumb over the raised words. Some men have pictures of their families, I have these. Slowly my mind once again brought back to the Jew, is this how he felt? Trapped in the darkness all around it, nothing for comfort…but…I have comfort, though not much. The Germans may not kill our troop, but they have done their best to make us nothing but hunting dogs. Our bunks are just thick scratchy blankets rolled out on straw beds. Nothing but that.
Our food is nothing but what we ourselves can make, this does not bother me as it does the other men, but the thing that bothers us ALL is the fact we can not see our families. We are nothing but hunting dogs searching for rats. Nothing more, nothing that needs to be trained, nothing that needs to be taken care of…just…dogs.
This irritates me to no end. We are not just shitty dogs, we are MEN. More so then those fat Germans that command us. Who never lift a finger but instead let us get the blood on our hands and our souls. Opening my brown eyes I sit up in a hurry. There is something I must do. Something that will NOT flow orders, but seeing as I already have thrown away my collar and leash so to speak why not go all the way?
Quickly and quietly I shuffle out of my bed and grab for my dirty shirt, pulling it over messy thick brown hair and dropping to my knees. Like I said before, I am not a religious man, nor have I ever been. So as I kneel I am NOT praying as any onlookers would believe, instead I run a hand under my blankets and shift through the straw for something. See, here in our bunks we hid things from the Germans, since they believe us to dumb to do such. Most men hide bibles, photos. I hide clothing, money, and food.
Which brings me to my stupid, and quite possibly suicidal, idea. Grabbing a knapsack we use to carry our supplies for our hunt I stuff a bag shirt, pants, and a few chunks of bread inside before quietly and quickly walking out of the door. Thankfully I never see the whites of anyone's eyes as I sneak off the base, through the thick brush and into the main city. Closing my eyes I take a deep breath of air not stale of men's sweat, and blood. Sure, it is not fresh as the mountain air my mere took me too, but it is good. Very good, so with a small smile I take off walking towards the buildings marked to be 'rat clean'.
It takes me what I believe an hour to get to the same building I was in before. Crawling through barbwire fences, through boot stomp fields where the German's practice marching, only to appear at a broken cobble street with looming buildings in front of my eyes. I know I am here, here with the green eyes 'beast' that lives beneath the floor boards and crawls into my every thought.
With out looking back I enter one particularly run down brick building that I was in earlier today. Careful not to trip over the many hazards around, flick my lighter open and surrounding the inside with a warm glow of light. Listening quietly I hear the faint sound of sleep breathing, and I release a breath I had not know I was holding. Carefully with eyes downcast I creep my way towards the sound of the breathing, this all becoming deja vu in my mind as I carefully inch closer and closer to the hole. Upon feeling the edge with my boot I crouch low, shining the light into the hole and just catching the glance of a baggy piece of material.
Now to put my suicidal plan into motion. With out a sound I jump down into the hole, feet thumping against the dirt at my landing, no doubt signaling the green eyed person from his slumber. I hear a loud yelp and I quickly reach a hand out, feeling my rough fingers brush across bare skin as I grab hold. Pulling towards me and forcing the body to the ground. I hear crying now, but I do not care. This is to help, I assure myself as I pin the too thin body against the dirty floor beneath us. Hand pressed against the person's shoulder, I use my other to flick the lighter. Was this even the right Jew? But as the light flashed on and illuminated the person's body I knew right away, there were those green eyes. Instead of the calming look I saw before, I see pure terror, tears, and pain. Still I do not let up and I begin to uses the pinning hand to slide the loose shirt above the Jew's head.
Unsurprisingly I see bones sticking out from where there should be none, I see blemishes no doubt gained from the hard wood this person must have to had cuddled against at any unknown noise. But…under the caked dirt, the bruises and scratches I see freckles. Tones of them, and it almost made me want to stop my personal mission and count each one, drag my fingers over and connect the dots like one of those old child games. Shaking my head I pressed finger tips against the first rib.
I could feel the heavy breathing, the pounding of the heard beneath me, and the trembling from the thoughts of me. I could FEEL the fear in the air as those green eyes stared up with tears unwilling to spill past their pale lids. I try and ignore the stares as I slid my fingers over each rib, checking if they are broken. None are, but I do notice how unusual it is that the skin is so soft. With a slightly confused look I tilt my head to the side, keeping my palm flat against the skin, feeling the heart beat quicken then slow down.
"Non are broken. Vous are safe, I will non 'urt vous.." I mumble in my raspy voice trying to give some sort of comfort to the….well damn…seems this creature pined to the floor is a boy. Slowly, adverting my eyes I pull off the pants the boy is wearing. Only to earn a loud sob and a quick jerk of his legs, no bout to try and kick me away. Growling slightly I use one of my hands to pin down his legs, please, like I have not seen a naked man before…Sighing I raise one of his legs, looking them over and feeling if there were any brakes there.
Nothing, good…..this made everything so much easier. Slowly I let go of the jew, to which he quickly darted back against the wall. Sobbing and trembling so much I could have sworn he was a little kitten. Already I am sick of the violated look he keeps giving me, so I rummage through the knapsack and pull out the clothing I managed to hide away.
"'Er, wear zem. Keep vouself warm." I mumble leaning against another wall and tossing the rags to the Jew. They were worn down, but still warm. Much better then the scraps he wore before, and I see him in the dull light of my lighter quickly put them on. His sobbing continuing as I watch. I begin to wonder how much kindness he has been shown…from what I see…none.
Once the boy calmed down, which to me took around half an hour of time, he beings watching again. Watching my hands move, watching me rummage through my sack. Though if I move to quickly he would shrink away, holding the clothing to his skin. I then lift my hand and show no weapon and he is once again watching my movements.
After another half hour of time, I begin bring out the food out, holding it out. To which he grabs it and quickly shuffles away, again….like a small kitten. I smile softly as I watch him eat. "es zat good…? Moi name es Christophe…Wut es vous name.." I say gently, keeping my distance.
He looks up, wide eyes, bread still hanging around his lips as he speeks. "M-My name…I-is…..K-Kyle…K-Kyle Broflovski…" He says in a very timid look, and I am mildly shocked.
He….he speaks so well….so…gently…. And…then he smiles.
Something I'd never suspect…
He smiles at ME, his death…
His new savore…
And….and I smile back.
"Bein…to meet vous…Kyle…" I say gently, a small smile plastered on my own face.
That's when I believe…
I started to love this timid, small pale creature.
So!! I forgot to mention! This is for my lovely twin friend Chaos Choir!! 3