Golden Star.

All of the screams around me beat my ear drum until it burst.
We clutched onto each other as we got off the packed train. My hair was dirty and my nose was bloody, I was not the girl I was raised to be. My past was nonexistent.
“Momma, don’t let go of me!” I shouted to her. Before I knew it, a man with a dog was screaming at me, pulling my mother away. “NO! MOMMA! MOMMA!! DON’T LEAVE ME!” I scream until my lungs burst. Until I had no voice to use. I could not stop crying.
I was put in a line and was ordered to strip down. I sobbed and shed my clothes, exposing what no one has ever gazed at. I sat on the dirty bench covering myself, kicking away the clumps of hair at my feet. Soon, my scalp was bare. My hair, 18 years, was shaved.
I kept moving. I was given soiled clothes and wooden clogs.
I was shaking in fear.
I was called upon in line. They swiped my arm with liquid and stabbed my forearm continuously.
I look down, the holes they left were filled with ink.
In other words, welcome to Auschwitz.

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