Tears

• Lithasha Perera, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2018

Tears. They slid down the window frame silently, pulling me into a realm of misery and pain. All the conflicting emotions filled my head, and I felt as if my brain were about to rupture under all the pressure that wasn’t meant for anyone as young as me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hurl all of my hatred at the world for being so cruel, but that wouldn’t do any good at all. They’d hear me, and all chance of life would be snuffed out. So, instead, I forced my tears back and clamped my mouth shut. I didn’t want let my parents down. I didn’t want to put their scheming plan to conceal my older sister Margaret and I from the Nazis to waste. The scheme that was build from scaffolding made of pure love.

I watched through an upstairs window of my modest cottage as my parents trudged outside carrying their suitcases to join the rest of the village. Young and old, they stood in silent formation, cowering under the sharp eye of some Nazis. The anger and resentment built up inside me, becoming too much. I dashed towards the door. I was going to kill those bloodthirsty monsters who dared to take away my parents and friends. I didn’t care how old they were, or whether they were forced into doing it, but all I knew was that they were doing something wrong, and that no one- no one- in their right mind would ever forgive them. But Margaret, who had retreated to a corner of the room, not wanting to watch in fear of getting seized by the bitter fury that had latched onto me, ran to me. She intercepted my escape, and grabbed me by the shoulders. She clamped a hand over my mouth to prevent me from making noise, and dragged me, kicking and screaming, away from the door. Margaret held me close until the fight went out of me, and all that was left were the shuddering sobs that shook me uncontrollably. The tears had got to me again, like an old nemesis, haunting me, coming back to me again and again, as dark as plague.

‘What did we do to deserve this?’ I managed through the thick film of tears that drew streaks across my face.
I got no reply. I could see that although Margaret’s face was one of calmness and strength, but I have known her for long enough to know that she was faking it. I could see that there was a pool of tears threatening to spill in her eyes, and I knew it was taking every ounce of her willpower to hold them back. This scared me, for Margaret was all I had. Her endless faith was what held us together. If that crumbled into ruins, just like the rest of my life, well, we were done for. And all this- my whole life gone, just like that- just because we were Jewish.