The Rusty Train

One winter, a revolution broke out. My father was purged, and my brothers were dragged off to the camps. My mother passed away, unable to bear the shock, when I was only fifteen. Then, one winter, I met Jurgen. He was a man like winter itself. I was seized by a foreboding: just as the winter of my fifteenth year had stolen everything, he too would take everything I had. This was the first omen I had ever experienced, and yet… I was not afraid. Perhaps deep down, I was waiting for him to ruin me completely. “Have you already forgotten? You promised to marry me, bear my child, and die by my hand.” Jurgen jeered, forcing me down with ruthless ease. Broken beneath his weight, I sobbed helplessly. His lips brushed my cheek and mouth as though in pity, and he murmured. “Allow me to give you some advice.” The metallic click of his belt echoed in the air. “From now on, try to love me.” I struggled in vain. “It will hurt less that way.” For Jurgen was my hell.