Fan Fiction ❯ Bashert ❯ Chapter 1

Among the papers found in Treyna Szternlicht's house after her committing suicide, this one seemed to be worthy of mentioning. Nothing in the spelling or grammar have been modified, but her son might want to edit some passages before sending this testimony to Yad Vashem. In our opinion, he might very well not send it at all, and destroy this impure document. But it is not for us to decide...




I had only been located at the camp for a week when I first saw him; his figure outlined in the door to our crowded hut- my new living quarters.

I didn't know then what would happen between us. I had no idea that morning that I would be relaying this sad story to you now. I had no inkling that I would suddenly choose to pour it out myself like the puddles of blood that seeped from under the doors of my neighbours on that horrible evening; the night they dragged me from home and carted me off to this G-d-forsaken place like I was a rabid animal.

I never saw what happened to my family. As I was shoved down the street, I did witness things no human should ever have to see. I don't remember much detail but I remember the feeling; the sense of pure terror and the realization that inhumanity had taken over all of our lives.

That feeling has never left me. Even as I sat huddled in my bunk seven days later, I still felt the horror acutely, making my hands tremble and my eyes water. In fact, to this day, eighteen years later, I still wake up crying and shaking.

My new "home" was a crowded place, with men and women draped anywhere they could fit, just trying to sleep. I shared a bunk with a young man; I assessed him and think he was about twelve. That would make him nine years my younger and he latched on to me almost immediately. The first night I woke up to find him cuddled in the bottom bed with me. I roused him and asked him what was wrong.

I'll never forget what he told me and how trivial it seemed at the time. His eyes darted about in nervous panic and he responded so quietly I had to ask him to speak up.

"I'm scared of the dark miss."

I stared at him in incredulously and couldn't help thinking, "of all the things to be scared of at a time like this".

Perhaps he too realized the ridiculousness of it, for he managed to look at everything but my eyes. I laid my head back down with a sigh and he cuddled closer. I felt my heart go out to him. I had a feeling that in a very short while the dark would be the last thing he would be scared of.

"Don't call me miss. My name's Treyna... Treyndel." My voice was hoarse from crying and at first I thought he didn't hear what I had said. When I opened my mouth to repeat myself, however, I heard his pitiful and soft voice muffled by the covers, "Dovid... Dudel."

I repeated the name softly and we spoke no more that night. He drifted off to sleep but I couldn't close my eyes. I sat stroking his hair and thinking of my mother.



A lot happened in the week following. A man came and took up the nicest villa, not the drab ones that the guards slept in. I knew he must be in charge for he ordered all others around as if they were a constant hindrance to him. He did whatever he pleased, and the things he was pleased to do were always the worst. He was a handsome man only physically; his features were marred by the devil that lurked deep in them.

A lot of people died that week. I sometimes imagined that I saw spinning swastikas in his eyes instead of pupils. Sometimes the bodies of those he executed would be left out in the stained snow for us to work around. He was trying to scare us. To let us know that he held all our lives in his dirty hands.

It was working.

Dovid still slept with me but he no longer complained of the dark. He had a new terror now, and the innocence I had seen in him a week ago was completely lost. I cried over him sometimes during the night.

If he noticed, he never spoke to me about it.

So that was my condition on the seventh day when, in the gloom of the early morning, our door creaked open and we all turned to look at the figure that stood there with unnatural stillness.

I couldn't make out his features but I could judge his height and weight. He was tall and lean, and obviously a Nazi from the distinct uniform and the unmistakable weapon that hung from his belt.

We all sat in horrified anticipation as he walked slowly to the middle of the isle that separated one row of beds from another. I saw him clearly then.

He was a young man, maybe thirty. His blue eyes caught the faint ray of light coming from the crack in the wall and I saw that he wasn't really looking at any of us.

His hair was dark, not the light blonde of all the other guards, and there seemed to be a dark shadow on his face no matter where he stood. He was beautiful.

I wondered what I would see in his eyes.

"You need to shovel the roadway." His tone was flat and curt. The command lacked detail, but nonetheless, everyone was up in an instant, fetching their coats and shawls.

"Wait", we all stopped in mid-movement, worried we had done something wrong, "One of you is Treyna..." His voice trailed off and I could tell by the hitch in it that he had forgotten what last name he was looking for.

I stepped up to him before he could get embarrassed and kept my head down. He dismissed everyone else but me and I felt my chest tightening as he stood and stared, waiting for everyone else to file out of the small doorway.

I still did not raise my eyes to him as we stood there alone and I felt his eyes burning into me. I wondered how long we would sit there in silence when he suddenly stepped around me.

"I have been told you refuse to work?" I wondered for a second who he was talking to when I finally looked up and noticed that Dudel had remained under the covers and was now peeking over them at this new man with fear in his eyes.

When Dovid did not answer, the guard ordered him up. As he climbed slowly out of bed I could see something was the matter. He was shaky and pale and it seemed to be a great effort for him to remain standing.

I felt my heart lurch. If he was sick then he was useless and if he was useless than he was dead.

The guard stood over him a while, his expressionless eyes traveling over my little friend's ghastly appearance.

Finally he spoke, his voice quiet and brusque, "Are you sick, boy?"

My companion nodded his head dumbly and looked as though he were expecting a blow. The man stood silent for a long time. He had a disquieting way of losing himself in his thoughts, leaving us to sit in scared suspense.

After tilting his head, both in annoyance or curiosity, he reached his hand out and Dovid jerked back in expectation. He lowered his hand and for the first time a saw his eyes cloud over for a second with what looked like confusion. He then set his jaw and reached out again, slower this time.

I had watched all this with growing panic. Over the past few days I had seen people's heads blown away for much smaller reasons and I didn't think I could bear to see this young man who had bonded so deeply with me meet the same fate.

I turned my head slightly and tried to force the tears down. It would do no good for Dovid if I incurred this man's antagonism too. I expected violence, but when I finally looked back to them I saw something that I was not expecting. The commandant had placed the back of his hand against Dudel's perspiring forehead and appeared to be checking his fever.

He lowered his hand with a frown and looked around him as if he needed some guidance as to how to handle the situation. Finally he looked at the youngster and with a hint of gentleness, guided him back into the bed.

"You don't have to work today." He looked out the window in thought and then looked back down at Dovid.

"What's your name boy?" His voice was cold and sharp but the very question was unusual for him. No other German had ever asked us our name unless neccessary.

Dovid looked shocked and then gathered himself enough to answer in a clear voice. The German nodded his head quickly, looking like he was trying to convince himself of something. "If anyone else asks you to work you tell them to talk to me... Herr Kommandant." With these words he turned away from the figure nestling in the covers.

He turned his sharp attention to me and when I met his eyes, my breath caught in my throat. I quickly averted my eyes and tried to be as humble as possible. I could tell from the silence that he knew what I was thinking. He was extremely observant and it made me uncomfortable.

"I hear you are unskilled." It was spoken as a firm statement and I wondered if I was supposed to respond. My hands began trembling violently. I believed this to be the end of me. I had no education or skill and my physical strength was noticeably lacking. I was surprised I had lasted this long.

When I failed to answer him, he shifted from one foot to another and tugged at the bottom of his coat.

"Can you cook?" He asked in his clear, quick way.

"Yes, sir."

"Clean?"

"Of course, sir." That's all I had done when I lived at home. My father had been a tailor until his death just a few months ago, and I had cared for most of the household duties because my mother was an invalid.

"They told me you are not strong enough to do much work," he drew out his pause and I wondered for a second whether he enjoyed seeing me scared, "but I am to have a maid. I was told you would not be missed from the outside work. So I choose you."

His words sunk in and I stood there staring at him. There was a slight uncertainty in his eyes and I guessed that the idea for a maid was not his. All the guards had girls living in their quarters; the villa had four young women who tended to the needs of the man who had brought such terror here.

I stood there, unsure as to what I was supposed to do now and an annoyed look passed over his handsome features.

"Well, come on! Get your things."

I sprung over to my bed and grabbed my bundle as he watched. It was a risk, but I couldn't help but to reach over to stroke Dudel's hair and whisper an emotional goodbye to him. I saw my new master look away quickly, his face going blank.




I gathered my shawls around my face as we stepped out into the bitter cold. I followed behind him with my head down, avoiding the eyes of all others around me. The other guards seemed to know of my arrangement for they all ignored our passing.

I kept my eyes on his black boots in front of me as his feet sank into the snow with each step. I absently watched as my stocking feet followed closely, stepping into the snow and sinking next to each of his deep footsteps. Suddenly, one of I faltered and my foot sank painfully into the freezing cold. I fell with a whimper and the snow wet my clothes, hitting my skin like tiny needles.

I tried to push myself up but my hands were trembling so violently, partly from the cold and partly from his stare as he turned to look at me, that I could not gather myself up. I began to cry but it was so frigid that the tears froze my cheeks. Suddenly a black boot placed itself at an angle in front of me and I felt him grab the sleeves of my shirt, carefully avoiding touching me, and haul me up with inhuman strength. As soon as I was free from my trap and gained a stable footing, he dropped his hands and started on his way as if nothing had happened.

I was careful not to fall again.




The living quarters that I was to share with him was small in actuality, but my eyes, so accustomed to crowded rooms and shared beds, saw a castle. It consisted of a sitting room with a fireplace (I could not take my eyes off it), two small bedrooms with beds not much larger than the ones in the hut, a kitchen, bathroom and a dank basement that seemed to be made to hold wine though there was none down there now.

I considered the rooms and wondered where I would sleep. I did not want to presume I was allowed a room, so I remained standing where was. I did not want to speak before him. I saw his eyes cast a quick glance around and I could tell he also did not know where an appropriate resting-place for me would be. He did not address it.

He pointed to the kitchen quickly and spoke, looking over my shoulder rather than at me, "You will cook and clean. And do anything else that may come to my mind."

The last sentence made my stomach lurch. I knew that many of his type would say that Jewish women were reviling to them but I did not put it past these evil creatures to take advantage of those inferior to them. I looked up at him now to see if I could discern if there was a hidden meaning in his ambiguous words but he was looking around as if trying to find something else to say.

I realized then that he knew as little about being my master as I knew about being his maid. I looked around, trying to think of how to end the awkward stillness. I looked at the empty kitchen.

"What am I to cook sir?" I felt uneasy about talking when I wasn't spoken to but I saw a relieved expression come over his face.

"There will be meat and other foods brought in weekly by car for all...us. You will also help me and others unload this car when it comes."

I nodded and bit my lip. For the first time a saw a small smile tug at the corner of his lip. "Don't worry. I'll eat anything people put in front of me. Simply cook what you'd like to eat and I will be satisfied."

I was shocked, "Sir, I will be eating the same food as you?"

He looked extremely irritated at my question, "Well, of course. What's the sense of having you cook different meals for different people? Don't ask me unimportant questions."

I clamped my mouth shut and felt absurdly glad that I would be able to taste meat again.

He twitched his shoulder as if his uniform were bothering him and then brushed past me. He gave me brief orders as he opened the door to leave to hang up his clothes, dust and clean the house and to make a fire in the fireplace so that it would be warm we he came back. I nodded, trying to hide my impatience to get in front of a nice warm fire. Finally he left and I started about my chores.

After started the fire, I decided I needed to decide where I was sleeping. I concluded it would be safer to be inconspicuous so I grabbed a few quilts out of the smaller bedroom and made my home in the basement.

I hung his clothes next and examined them. He had another uniform but the rest of his apparel was more unremarkable; nicely tailored pants and shirts. I thought about what he would look like in regular clothes, with no emblems or weapons. I shook off these pointless thoughts and set about to dusting and cleaning.

I came across the rest of his luggage which was very sparse. Besides the usual necessities, the only thing I noticed that was out of the ordinary was a beautifully textured painting that lay on top of one of his open boxes.

I didn't dare touch it. Somehow I thought he would tell that a Jew had touched such a breathtaking thing and punish me. I cleaned around it and found myself staring at it with admiration.




Finally I finished my work and made my way down to my new home. It was cold and depressing down there and I sat for a long time wondering about dinner. The kitchen was empty and I doubted that we were going to be receiving any food this late in the day. Finally I heard his footsteps above me and I found myself holding my breath.

After a few minutes I didn't hear him moving around, which is why it shocked me so much when I suddenly caught sight of his form at the top of the basement stairs.

I considered him from where I lay but he squinted into the dark, his eyes trying to adjust. Finally they focused and found me. He frowned deeply. I don't think he liked being at a disadvantage to me. The thought that I could observe him when he couldn't see me made him uneasy.

"What are you doing?"

I opened my mouth dumbly. Finally I spoke, "Was my work unfinished sir?"

My voice quivered and a worried that I had already done badly under his charge. "No, why are you sleeping down here? The bedroom is for you."

He spoke in a-matter-of-fact voice and I felt a blush creep up onto my cheeks. I hoped he didn't think I was stupid. When I didn't stand up, he sighed loudly, "Come on now!! Get your things!!" He slapped his leg as he said this as if I were some disobedient dog he was calling to.

I jumped up now, totally forgetting that I was clad only in my sleeping gown and began bundling up my few belongings.

As I started to turn around he stopped me curtly, "Put something else on, I won't have you running around half clothed." He shunned my gaze and I flushed up. He looked slightly angry and I wondered if he was mad at me for being a woman or mad at himself for noticing I was a woman.

I slipped my only dress over my head quickly and followed him upstairs. He turned abruptly and tossed me something that I caught clumsily.

It was an apple.

He murmured that the food truck would be coming the next day and told me he needed me to sow a part of his uniform. He got me the ripped article and the tools as I ravenously tore into the apple, devouring it in just a few bites. I put the stem in the trash as he put the things I needed onto the chair by the fire. I took this to mean that it was okay for me to sit there and began at my task.

He walked over to his desk and began shifted noisily through the piles of papers on his desk. I examined the hole in his coat and wondered where it came from. I imagined that it was ripped as he did some dreadful thing to some poor worker but then I noticed that there was no blood on it. His clothes didn't smell like death as I imagined they would.

This made me think of the man in the villa and the water they used to wash his uniform. I wondered how bloody it was when they poured it out.

He started over to me and I rose from the seat to allow him to sit but he waved me off like I was an bothersome insect buzzing around him and sat cross- legged in front of the fire. I sat there sowing as he threw something into the blaze and then took up the pen and paper he had carried and began to write upon his knee. I didn't look at what he was doing.

We sat in an unexpectedly comfortable peace until finally he spoke, his voice quiet and subdued.

"Treyna?"

I was shocked to hear him speak my name but I managed to acknowledge him.

"Did you know that boy?"

I frowned, "What boy?"

I expected him to get short with me but instead he simply elaborated, "the sick one."

"Dovid?"

He nodded softly to himself and looked up from his paper distractedly, "Ah, Dovid, yeah."

"Yes."

"Family?"

"No. I didn't even know his last name sir."

He still didn't look at me, "Were you close?"

I felt tears spring to my eyes as I began to suspect where he was leading.

My mouth twitched as I answered, "I took care of him."

He looked at me then, his face completely stoic. I knew what he was trying to say and I felt tears well up in my eyes but they remained unshed.

The pain of loss made me suddenly bold, "You?" I needed to know if it had been done by his hand. I don't know why it mattered so.

His mask slipped slightly and I saw what may have been regret slip across his eyes for a split-second.

"No." His reply was short and unemotional.

We resumed our tasks. Neither of us spoke again.