The Scars of Survival

By Tyranni Thomas

Born to an era that refuses to accept her kind, Krishna Bauer soon finds herself on the wrong side of the Gestapo during the hunt for her beloved, Rebekkah.

What love compelled quickly turns into a suffocating nightmare. Nazi intervention places both Krishna and her younger sister Emmalyn on a desperate journey of self- preservation and identity amidst a women’s concentrations camp.

Will the polar-opposite siblings survive the purgatory known as Ravensbruck?

If they do, will they recognize themselves through the scars of their survival?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tyranni Thomas
• Release date: Oct 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781977538284

Tyranni Thomas

Tyranni Thomas is a trauma warrior, a writer of historical and women’s fiction, and a mother to three amazing boys. She believes that written words speak louder than most people’s voices ever could. A once history major and compassionate nurse, she enjoys giving agency to historical figures and circumstances of injustices or abuse.

Book preview

Chapter One

The slow, promising grip of injustice squeezed Krishna’s throat bringing every fiber of her being to life. Wild radiant emeralds flashed with the turbulence of her emotions. Faces passed in slow motion and the familiar smell of the sabbath breads assaulted her senses.

Her sister’s shoulders rose and fell dramatically, clearly conveying the duress she was under. Truly Krishna, father worries day and night for our safety. Must you provoke further attention and upset? We shouldn’t even be here! The protests continued in a whisper that was becoming shrill. If he finds out either of us are here... the younger girl began, only to resign to an imploring doe eyed stare.

Swallowing hard, Krishna’s fingers curled into the soft flesh of her palms. Her disposition was growing more despondent by the second and the weight of youth lay heavily on her shoulders. The burden of scrutiny and demand for conformation only served to antagonize the young lesbian. Krishna’s lips were set in a silent thin line, but her body language was louder than a raid siren.

Then go! Krishna spat, waving her hand in the air like the dismissal it had been. Her glistening green eyes were narrowing with the pain and indignation of being born in a generation that simply would not support her. Tears stung her eyes, but she averted them from anyone or anything.

Emmalyn was right, it was too late. Whatever whispers that she may have hoped to ward off about her Jewish lover, would be futile once gossip of their visit got back to father. At this point, she wasn’t sure which infuriated him more, the fact that she loved women, or the embarrassment of having his eldest daughter recently caught with a Jew. Why couldn’t they just leave us be…. what do they care who I love? She hissed through grit teeth.

Emmalyn stilled and her shoulders rolled back preparing for the emotional storm that was sure to come. Her sister’s jade hues were glossed over and quickly pinking as she struggled for control. Letting her hand slowly lifted to comfort her sisters shoulder, she stopped for fear of pushing her over the edge.

Krishna, please, let’s go home Her voice trembled and cheeks burned hot with the humiliation of what felt like a hundred eyes on them. Surely there were not even that many people in the section of ghetto Krishna’s lover had been rounded to.

They stood staring at each other and the lump in Krishna’s throat grew until she was sure that she would choke on it. The need to scream until she was certain her airway was clear overwhelmed the ginger. Her face contorted into a mask of horror and the willowy arms of her only sibling engulfed her.

When Emmalyn turned to guide her sister’s path, it was a near collision that sent her back stepping. The doe eyed girl gave a gasp that was countered by her sister’s forearm abruptly greeting her midriff. For all intents and purposes, Emmalyn was thrust behind her big sister. Krishna was not one to cower and indeed the brave young woman stood eye to eye with an unblinking SS officer. Emmalyn placed a trembling hand on her sister’s shoulder to council hesitance, but otherwise remained silent.

The uniformed man stood peering at them with a look of pure disgust plastered across his features. The miniature mustache did nothing to soften his appearance, but it did an odd dance of sorts when he spoke.

You dare, you dare! His shrill voice echoed over the busy midday square. His eyes flicked over Krishna’s choice of olive clothing, clearly unimpressed with the mockery of his Regimes uniform.

A ginger brow rose in silent challenge to each octave the man claimed. Forcing a deep breath, Krishna tried to raise both hands to convey her confusion and lack of intent. It was but a single gesture, and with it came the key to Pandora’s box. From the very shadows, Gestapo ran towards them. Within moments, they were surrounded.

Krishna was knocked into Emmalyn with such a force that both women went sprawling across the pavement. Krishna recovered herself instantly, springing up like a lion. Fight overcame the instinct of flight and she squared up to defend herself. The woman was seemingly oblivious to the now shorn and bloodstained hosiery that gaped awkwardly over her knee. Emmalyn scrambled to clutch her sister’s waist, but could only manage a handful of Krishna’s skirt. Jerking the material wildly, she began to plead incoherently for the other woman to stop.

Put them with the others The officer advised, raising his handkerchief to cover his mouth and nose. The scent of closely confined indigent people was clearly a new one to him.

The rage of it all festered quietly in Krishna, it was the Gestapo and their relocating of her beloved Rebekkah that had led to all this mess. Now, the same authority stood ordering her arrest.

We are not Jews Krishna ground out, jerking her arm free from the first attempt to secure her. It was useless and she was quickly manhandled. Her body was gripped and the crowd whirled before her until pain shot through her twisted limb. A voice came quick and crisp to her ear.

No, you’re dykes….it might be worse. What do you fellows think… bull dykes or kosher cockroaches? His voice grew louder, taunting her, and entertaining his peers all at once. Cheeks flushed a scarlet hue that matched the perfectly pinned ginger tresses.

Whispers flourished in the sea of faces around her and fingers squeezed her arm. His vice like grip jerked her to the side. Enjoying her feistiness, his lips tipped into a provocative smirk. His other paw stretched to hike up Emmalyn’s much more modest hemline.

The younger woman screamed and kicked a polished slipper towards the offender. It was claimed and tossed to the growing crowd who stood mesmerized by the spectacle. There was no offering of intervention, indeed there was only silence as both women were hoisted into a nearby paddy wagon.

It was a short bumpy haul but in moments, the wagon pulled up right next to the train. While in form, the locomotive was simply a metal machine, by nature it was something much more sinister. It was the metal serpent that would carry unfortunate souls to a journey beyond any nightmare they could have ever dreamed.

The breeze blew through the haggard boards of the boxcar. With it the scent of desperation, disease, and death floated patiently past. A foreboding feeling paralyzed Krishna as she was drug along.

The belly of the beast was already digesting the hopeless occupants. Roasting their tormented and often wounded flesh until it festered. Their minds deteriorated in the stifled environment, some returning to a pre-civilized state. The rabid, frantic pounding and screaming caused Emmalyn to burst into tears anew and her eyes snapped tightly shut against the madness surrounding her.

Finally, she was assigned a boxcar. Krishna lay where she was slung shaking with rage. Her nails bit the floor and she struggled for air against the rancid smell that greeted her. Emmalyn on the other hand, was in the throes of a full-on panic attack. She was screaming and sobbing, twisting and rocking, but it was to no avail. The wilder she got, the more silent Krishna became, willing herself to track the sound of her sister outside those walls.

When the doors to the boxcar opened again, those green hues were nothing short of animalistic. Every muscle was rigid and tears streamed over her high full cheek bones. Her little sister had to be cradled between two officers. They each shot an arm between hers and lifted her like a child having a tantrum. Her youthful form landed with a soft thud near her enraged sibling.

Chapter Two

The sound of a dozen breaths resonated against the walls of their boxcar. From behind the sanctuary of her eyelids Krishna could feel the spent air curling around her, puffing against her damp flesh. It took all of about three breaths after the doors were closed for the sweltering heat to creep over the pair. It was a patient torturer, one that left the flesh slick and of a nature that it stuck to itself when surfaces were unfortunate enough to collide. An act that in and of itself was agonizingly unpreventable. A slow eroding of one’s sanity. It was impossible to sit still and not aggravate the situation with the train constantly lurching and jostling its occupants about.

While the train visited many locations, its doors only opened to shove more helpless souls into what Krishna was sure must be purgatory.

Children and women called to one another and wept openly. Hands grappled wildly at her wrist and Emmalyn was jerked forward into palms that searched her face only to shove it backwards. The back of her head met the wall with a soft thud and she swat back at the darkness. The crisp sound of its connection was followed by the cries of what sounded like a little boy. Oh, my God, I’m sorry Emmalyn cried. Her fingers tangled together in her lap and she rest her head on her knees in shame.

Em

The voice sought through the dark and Emmalyn’s breath left in a choked off soft. Krishna, I’m scared, her tiny voice confessed. Krishna followed the sound until they were huddled together in the sweltering solitude of their blind journey.

At the next stop the doors swung open and like a predator Krishna’s eyes swept the crowd. The young boy lay huddled in the lap of an obese woman who wore little more than rags. Her eyes narrowed and seemed to bore into Krishna’s soul. After several moments, Krishna jerked her chin up in challenge. The woman gasped and swaddled her son in her arms averting her eyes.

Krishna, stop, please! I just want to go home, Emmalyn whispered, hiding her face against her sister’s shoulder until the trickle of tears seeped against Krishna’s flesh. Her arm instinctively went around the girl and snugged her in close. When the cargo had been loaded and the doors slammed shut again, a soft humming sound began to vibrate against the golden-brown tresses. It was in this attempt at affection that Emmalyn realized with horror, just how serious the situation was. She had been scared before, but Krishna had always been confident. Her eyes snapped shut, but the truth was, there wasn’t a seal strong enough to stop the tears from leaking down her porcelain cheeks.

Hours turned into days, and with each day more hopeless souls climbed aboard. The conditions became deplorable as the heat and waste mixed. Gnats and flies buzzed constantly in the ripe environment. Krishna swore it was a tactic of the SS, to keep things so disgusting that people were too nauseated to eat the handful of sustenance offered. Passengers often got into shoving matches that became outright violent over the meager offerings. One woman had even bitten a little boys arm! The officer on one slow day had placed only half rations inside the cart. Intent on a bit of amusement they sat back and watched the primal urges for self-preservation take hold. Even the most dignified and refined amongst them were reduced to animalistic tendencies. The boy’s mother nearly strangled the biter to death with her bare hands. Grunting and slobbering with rage, the men pulled her off the other woman. It had become a standing joke between the sisters, at least were not gnawing on arms..

Thighs pressed against a still blooming chest and knees kissed the underside of Emmalyn’s chin. The few streams of light that slipped through the boards were hypnotic and sometimes played tricks with her mind. It was during one of these daydreams which played the events of the past few days like a slow movie on repeat. Her head lulled and a blank affect claimed her features. Somewhere before dinner, the soft moans of an elderly woman wafted over the flock and thick lashes snapped her back to a reality that was somewhat hazy.

The piteous pleas for mercy fell on a crowd that was already hot, filthy, and half starved. Leaning against her sister, Emmalyn’s shoulders climbed for her ears. Evening fell upon them and the atmosphere grew menacing. After a few hours, a wooden bowl they passed for drink was hurled through the darkness and the aged cries turned to sobs of despair. Snarls for silence echoed in more than one language. This ensued for the better part of the night until at last, a mucus laden gasp was given and the snores of the compartment muffled out any further commotion. A humming broke the rhythmic sounds of the slumbering. It was to this tune that Krishna closed her eyes. Fingers pulling her sister close to her side as a chill confused her senses and startled her perspiring flesh.

When the train screeched to a halt, her fingers dug into Emmalyn’s hip so far the girl yelped and leapt half way onto her sister’s lap. Krishna’s eyes were wide, betraying the pounding in her chest. There was a slow roar starting from somewhere in the front of the train and it was growing louder by the second. The boxcar rocked, and the metal amplified the frantic movements in the car next to them until it became deafening. Something was happening and they were stuck, waiting and at the mercy of whatever lay on the other side. Finally, the door was jerked wide and light flooded their compartment.

A scream pierced the senses and caused a few to leap from the train. For people who had prayed for an end to the darkness, the complaints were loud and plentiful. It seemed the devil they knew, was a lot more comforting then the one they did not. This sentiment was likely accompanied by the sheer chaos of being grabbed for and jerked from the train without ceremony.

The little boy was caught by an ankle and slung violently across the floor of the train. His mother threw herself after him and the guard used her offered momentum to heft her out onto the ground face first. This was no cause to celebrate, the woman’s oversized bottom and blossoming ankles were met with the solid angry sway of more than a few boots. Krishna wasn’t sure if it was the woman’s size or the presence of an offspring, that labeled her a greater threat amongst the passengers.

They were flung to find their feet or their ass and often given a kick to hurry the process along. Disoriented and terrified, they were shoved and barked at until they fell into form. Single file the group was herded like animals.

Ever alert, Krishna surveyed her surroundings as the line pushed forward. Wailing could be heard ahead of them but from her stand point she saw nothing, it truly was a kilometer-long line. People were being flung from the trains in a manner that kept placing more bodies in front of her and Emmalyn.

The corners of her emerald hues squinted in confusion. Female SS officers were marching back and forth opposite the gate in large clusters. Now and again a man would be seen, but it appeared to be a rarity. The fence they were being lined along seemed to have at least a dozen buildings inside its perimeter.

Somewhere around the halfway mark of their progression, a loud signal pierced the air. Oh, Krishna! Emmalyn gasped, pressing slender digits between her sisters and clinging tightly. Her wide round eyes brimming with moisture again as women piled from every crevice of the camp. They presented in all manner of dress, or lack thereof. Many were filthy, their hair disheveled in short uneven clumps. Keeping their eyes trained to the ground, the few that did chance a glance towards the arrivals did not make eye contact. Their eyes held a distant vacancy that left Krishna’s stomach churning.

It will be all right, Father will send for us soon, Krishna hushed her younger sister. Her arm remained tightly drawn over the younger woman’s shoulders and her lips were poised to the golden temple but the motion of placing a kiss was lost. Indeed, Krishna’s jaw fell lax as the last few stragglers fell into place amongst those gathered in the patch of dirt some yards away. The delayed were nude, their round heads glistened bald under the sun. Some made gestures to cover themselves as they felt the eyes of the line on them. Others stood silently weeping, their shoulders heavy in indignation.

Wh-where are we? Emmalyn managed to choke out, her frame weaving against her sisters.

A hand found either side of her hips and thick digits dutifully steadied her. You have arrived at Ravensbruck, welcome, a man informed her, though his words were laced with sarcasm. The parting glance he gave her was damn near predatory. It traveled her shapely waist and high youthful breast in a way that left her curling into Krishna’s arms. She pressed her weight further as if she might walk away from the whole mess. Krishna’s arms held her firm.

Don’t, they will separate us she hissed over the crown of hair.

It seemed simple enough, one merely followed the line and was motioned one direction or another. Yet, even the feeblest amongst them could tell there was something more to the jabbing of a finger in the air. The very environment came to life with the fear and uncertainty of the masses. The closer one came to that stage, the more palpable this energy became. Emmalyn was shaking so hard her teeth were chattering, despite the layer of perspiration that still clung to her perfectly arched brow. Her tongue compulsively slid over blessed full lips. Innocent eyes snapped from one face to the next. Memorizing the nameless faces who had crawled from the train with them. Krishna’s fair complexion was paling with each