BARELY HUMAN
If you could gaze out of the tiny window in your tiny apartment, looking out to the street, you could see the children happily playing hop scotch.  Adults would be conversing about the latest news and everything would seem normal.  Though, if you were actually present, you would be able to practically touch the tension in the air.  It hung around everyone, even though they pretended it wasn’t there…
     That’s what it would look like to an outsider, though I’m sure they would notice that the living conditions here weren’t as great, but I guess they were a lot better than other ghettos.  In the ghetto, we’d pretend nothing was wrong, as if we were all promised a safety that normal people were, but there was no denying the ever present fear possessed by the families.  I feel like we are cattle hoarded into pens with no purpose to live, but to die.  No, we weren’t humans.  We were Jews.
      “Rebecca, it’s time for supper!”  I heard my Mum call from the kitchen.
     I quickly got up from my perch at the window and walked from my tiny bedroom to the kitchen where my parents waited.  I was an only child, so my small family could all fit at a two person table in the kitchen.
Everyone discussed how their days were and the latest news about the war.
     “There wasn’t a lot of activity today, but we’ll make sure to stay tuned to the radio tonight,” my mum spoke before taking another bite of her potatoes.
     The adults always spoke of the war.  I suppose, given I was only 14, I just wanted the Allies to hurry and save us.  To save us from being swept away to face the monstrosities Hitler had in store for us.  Even in Poland, Germany had tight reigns over my people.  We were punished as if we were monsters, deserving of torture, though they were the beasts.  I’m sure not all of them were full of such hatred, but I had more to worry about than the Germans.
I tried to calm my thoughts and listen to my parents’ conversation.  Right when I picked up on what they were saying, my stomach dropped and I lost my appetite.  They were discussing how it’s been awhile since people have been selected to go to the concentration camps.  Concentration camps.  I hated hearing that, but the only thing this meant was that we were to expect people to receive the letters.  To be forced away from their lives and families and packed like animals in trains, awaiting to arrive at the gates of hell…
     “Rebecca…Rebecca?” I heard my father say.
     “Sorry, Dad. I was just lost in thought,” I apologized giving a tiny smile.
     “What am I to do with you Becca?” He asked shaking his head.
     Glancing at the clock in the kitchen hanging on the wall, I realized I had an hour before curfew at 8 p.m.  This was a time that all Jews had to be I their homes.  Anyone outside after that would be punished.
“Mum, could I go over to Janice’s house before curfew?” I asked her.
     “Well…” Mum paused, “I suppose so, but just for a little bit so you can listen to the radio with her family.”
     “Okay, Mummy.  Thank you,” I smiled, kissing her on the cheek.  I was always close to her, but behaved most like my father.  We both were unendingly loyal and outgoing, but also very introverted at times.
     I quickly scampered out of our home and walked across the street to where my very best friend Janice and her family lived.  I had known Janice since I was very young, and she was just like my sister.  We do everything together, and it’s impossible to separate us.  Some people even mistake us for twins.
     As I walked to Janice’s doorstep, I knocked waiting for someone to fetch the door.  A little bit later, the door swung open revealing Janice smiling.
     “Rebecca!” she smiled, engulfing me in a hug.  That’s something everyone loves about her.  She’s always bright and peppy, even through the worst of times.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard a negative comment out of her.
     Janice let me in and her parents greeted me politely.  Janice’s little brother and sister were playing with “sock puppets” or socks they placed on their hands that the made talk.
     “How are you?” I asked Janice’s parents who were sitting at their kitchen table.
     “Fine, thank you, dear.  We’re actually about to go through the mail.  We’ve been too busy today to do anything with it yet,” Janice’s Mother said.
     By then, Janice was already pulling to her family room where her younger siblings were playing.  Janice switched on the radio and plopped down on the floor beside me.  We had a nice chat about a scarf she was beginning to crochet and how she was thinking about being a seamstress one day.  She wanted to give the scarf to her little sister when she was finished.
Janice was caring like that. She was always looking after her younger siblings and making her parents proud with everything she did. When people describe her, you’d think they were speaking of a princess, but no, they weren’t even speaking of your everyday citizen. They were talking about someone who was barely human. It’s quite a shame, they’d think, that Janice was caught in this situation. It was simply the wrong timing for the wrong person. I suppose they would be the types to believe in coincidence over fate. It was just a rotten coincidence my people were caught in this situation, or was it fate? I’m not sure which I believe in, but I have to admit I would be curious as to why we were so deserving of this cruel life.
“Rebecca, were you thinking again?” Janice asked me.
I smiled wearily at her, “How’d you know?”
“Well, I know you,” she said nudging me in the arm before adding, “and you were spacing out again.”
“Sorry,” I said sincerely, “it’s just everything that’s been… going on.”
Janice didn’t say anything and just looked at me. For a split second, I could read fear and sadness in her eyes, but it was gone as quick as it had appeared. That’s another thing about her. She never showed any emotion that wasn’t positive. She only did a few times with me, but those times were few and far between. I placed my hand on hers, and in that moment, I knew she was as scared and distraught as I was.
She opened her mouth, about to say something, when we heard a noise coming from the kitchen. It sounded like a scream mixed with a sob. Immediately, Janice and I rushed to the kitchen.
Janice gasped, “Mummy!” before rushing to her crying mother’s side.
I turned towards Janice’s father who was gazing at a letter in his trembling hand. I asked him what was wrong, but he just shook his head over and over again before handing me the letter. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t. I was scared about what was on the inside of the letter but did what my parents always told me to do. Act more like Janice. With that in mind, I appeared calm and collected on the outside. I read the letter.
Everything from then on seemed to freeze. I read the letter again. It slipped from my fingers, delicately floating to the floor. I glanced at Janice who was sitting there with empty eyes. She was frozen, like everyone else in the room. That’s when thunder broke loose from the calm of the storm. Tears were now steadily streaming down Janice’s cheeks. Her perfection was broken, and it took a strong force to do so.
I should’ve been sobbing. Janice had received the letter. She was going to be ripped away from her family. She was going to be faced with the horrors set ahead for her. Janice, the girl who wouldn’t hurt a fly, the girl who would still smile at the cruelest of people, somehow deserved this. I don’t believe in fate, but I can’t bring myself to believe that this was a mere coincidence.
My mind, in which I invested so much of my time in, was a big jumble of emotions. I could feel the cold depths of sorrow, the flame of anger, the protest of denial, and one other thing that was prominent but didn’t quite seem to fit in with the complex puzzle that was my brain. This one vital emotion was determination. Not determination that this all didn’t happen – I knew very well this was reality – but determination to save Janice from this. This was a major feature of myself; I was constantly informed by people about my strong determination. I didn’t quite know yet how to save my best friend, but I knew I had to do it.  
It was at that moment that Janice’s parents had asked me to leave. At this point, I don’t think they cared whether they came across as rude or not, and I didn’t blame them. I gave Janice a final glance. Our eyes met for what felt like the last time. I didn’t dare say anything or hug her, instead slowly walking towards the door of Janice’s home. I gripped the cold door knob, but didn’t twist it before picking up the letter on the floor. I left and didn’t look back.
Arriving at home, my parents greeted me with their eyebrows raised. They were expecting me to tell them how my visit was, but I couldn’t form the words. I managed to mumble some excuse about not feeling well before I scampered into my room. Shutting the door behind me, I felt myself sink to the ground. I could feel the cold hands of fear gripping me, possibly at the decision I was about to make now. I needed to transfer the determination I had into bravery.
Taking the letter that was still folded tightly in my hand, I moved towards the tiny window in my bedroom to use the illumination the moonlight provided to read the letter again. Carefully scanning through the letter for important information, I found the departure time (to my horror was tomorrow morning) and the few items which were allowed to be brought along when departed. Knowing this made me even more confident to go through with my plan. I set the letter down and closed my eyes to concentrate even more on the thoughts spinning around in my head.
Janice and I looked a lot alike, I realized. We both shared the same brown eyes, dark curly hair, and olive-toned skin. We were near the same height and both fourteen years of age. The main difference between us was that Janice’s hair was shorter than mine, but that could be easily changed. Thinking about Janice brought a dull ache to my heart. The kind of ache you receive when you knew you were missing something or someone. I tried to shake myself from this pain and fear before it swallowed me whole. I decided to let myself go numb and ignore the internal battle. I already had a big enough conflict going on around me; I didn’t need more than one battle to face at the moment. For once in my life, I began to shut down my brain and perhaps underthink instead of all the overthinking I always do. After all, sometimes the bravest acts are the most reckless.
The hours passed, and I kept myself busy throughout most of them, physically and mentally preparing myself for what I was about to do. I now had a bag sitting on the floor of my room with the letter placed neatly on top of it packed with the few items I’d need. Also on my floor were the strands of my dark curly hair which I had cut off using my mum’s kitchen scissors. I had changed into warmer clothing and wore my coat with the Star of David attached to it like a scarlet letter.
Glancing out my window, I could see the first rays of sunlight peaking over the horizon. This signaled that I should get moving. I looked out my window for the last time before picking up my suitcase and heading quietly out of my room. I paused as I passed my parents’ room. Many times throughout the night I had thought of somehow saying goodbye. I thought of writing them a letter, but I couldn’t find the words. I was quite sure, though, that my actions said enough. I cared about my parents, but was acting in their honor and was acting selflessly in the way they had raised me. I hoped they would feel pride for me, instead of disappointment. I also knew this told Janice the things I hadn’t said when I left her. I loved her too much to let her suffer.
Feeling assured, I walked toward the door of my home like a soldier marching into battle. As I placed my hand on the doorknob, I thought of the future, not only for me, but for Janice and my family. Maybe doing this won’t affect them at all, and they’d all receive their own letters, but maybe it could save them. Maybe 1943 would be the year that the Allies would save us and give us a chance to be human. Then again, the trait of humanity can be a good and bad thing. It’s the very thing that causes the Nazis to hate us so much, but it’s also the thing that causes the Allies to want to save us. Humanity is the definition of flaws and mistakes. So, as I walk out of my apartment, am I doing something most humans wouldn’t? I may actually be barely human.