Poland, 1944

"Mommy! Daddy!" I screamed, trying to reach out for them. The dark stormy sky roared with laughter after lightning struck; illuminating the scared faces of the captured civilians. I saw mother's mouth moving but I couldn't hear her, only the loud sounds of thunder chuckling at my demise. I pounded on the back of my captor; a German soldier, as he carried me off to who knows where. My attempts proved futile as he just tightened his grip on my body. I screamed again, hoping that someone would come save me, but no one did. I watched as many people carried other children and woman away, as others were hoarded into a group moving the other direction. Tears rolled down my face as I let my arms drop limply.

No one is coming to save me.

I lay limp in the soldiers arms as I awaited my fate and future. What will happen to me? What will happen to mother and father? What will these mean men do to us?

I'm going to die. Alone.

I whimpered as the soldier threw me down onto the folder, kicking me roughly into a prison cell. I crawled slowly to the corner of the little space I was given, huddling next to the wall as I caressed my leg. A purple bruise started forming as I hissed in pain. I watched as a scrawny rat edged towards me. I blinked and beckoned it forward while digging in my pockets for something to eat. It cautiously took a few steps forward, watching every movement. It nearly jumped back as I held a piece of cracker towards it. It squealed as it stared at the food as it rushed forward, all caution forgotten and left behind. It reached up, standing a bit on its hind legs as it gripped the cracker. The little rat nibbled away, seemingly happy as its starvation started to wear off. "You're a dirty little fellow," I whispered as I reached my shaking hands towards its body. I gripped it lightly as he struggled, the bit of saltine cracker falling on the floor in the process. I laid him on my lap as I picked the cracker up and off the floor. I brought it towards the rat before letting him settle comfortably on my lap.

Suddenly, the sound of screeching metal reached my ears as I looked up, surprised. My body went rigid as another soldier stood there at the opening of the cell. I gulped as he glared at me before dropping a boy onto the floor. I inhaled sharply as the unconscious form was rolled over, revealing the boy's face. He had brown hair, absolutely normal and a thin face. I couldn't see the colors of his eyes but I could tell he was around my age, if not a bit older. I looked around, noticing that I was alone with him; even the rat had scurried off. I edged towards him and touched his arm, seeing if he was dead. Obviously he isn't, or they would have just thrown him in some decomposition bin. I mentally scolded myself before tugging him towards me. Even for being quite skinny, he was still heavy with my weak and starved self. He must be cold. He was soaked to the bone and his clothes were stuck to his body. The first thing that came to mind was to warm him up. I took off his dirty hat and flipped it inside out. The underside of the hat was warm and dry and I used it to my advantage. I quickly wiped his wet face and dried as much of his hair as I could. I started unbuttoning his shirt before a weak hand gripped my wrist.

"W-what are you doing?" the boy stared at me.

"I-I was only trying to help, y-you're cold, aren't you?" I asked as I continued unbuttoning his shirt.

"S-stop," he stuttered and sat up nervously. He buttoned his shirt up quickly and scooted away from me.

"I-I'm sorry," I whispered as I wrung my hands nervously. "A-are you hungry?" I looked at him from the corners of my eyes.

"A bit," he stared at the cement floor before looking at me curiously. I gripped the last cracker in my pocket before handing it to him.

"It's not much but," I stared at him, "I hope it'll help." He took it with shaking hands before popping it into his mouth and chewing slowly. He smiled after he swallowed and stretched out his hands.

"I'm Erik," he stared at me.

"Emilia, call me Emilia," I took his hand in mine as we shook. I grinned at him before giggling.

"You have a weird accent," he noted.

"Oh! It's because when I was 2 or 3 I moved toLondon, and we just currently moved back. So I kind of picked up a bit of an English accent. I hope it's not much, is it?"

"No, it's just barely different," he smiled.

"Hold old are you, Erik?" I tilted my head to the side as I lightly poked my bruised leg.

"11."

"I'm 10," I smiled as I looked at him.

"You don't look like you're 10," he observed.

"Really? Momma use to tell me I looked younger because I'm so short," I stood up to demonstrate my height before falling back down in pain.

"What's wrong?" he asked concerned.

"Oh nothing, I seemed to have hurt myself is all," I lied as I showed him the purple bruise.

"I see, Emilia, do you want to be friends?" he asked suddenly.

"Friends? I just met you, but sure. You seem like you could be my friend," I smiled as I patted his shoulder. He smiled back at me before sticking out his pinky at me.

"Friends forever, okay?"

"Yeah!" I laughed as I stuck my pinky out, wrapping it around his. "I promise."