We stand in a line wile the Sargent threats us. I guess one of the tools are missing and he thinks that one of us are trying to escape. Or make a weapon. As far as I know. Non of us are doing so.

“Who took it. Whoever took it, step forward and face your punishment.”

Still nobody stepped forward. I could practically hear the screaming already, of whoever did it.

“I’ll ask again. WHO TOOK IT?”

Nobody stepped forward. Who knows what they would do to a thief in a concentration camp?

“Fine. If nobody is going to confess, I’ll shoot people down the line one by one until someone confesses.”

I step forward, knowing the price to pay will be great. The Sargent kicks and pounds me until I can’t feel anything anymore. The pain was too great.

I wake up, surprised to be alive.

Pain floods through me. many broken bones and blood all over me, I’m informed that the Sargent miscounted the tools. There, in truth was really nobody trying to escape. But not yet did I regret saving my fellow prisoners.

At supper we were all given a small chunk of a hard moldy loaf of bread.

But when One of the prisoners stole my peace and ate it for Himself, knowing I was too weak to try and get it back?

Even though I saved them. That’s when I regretted saving these selfish people. Who would steal and even kill the person who sacrificed themselves if it would benefit them in any way.

-inspired by a true story