A Risk Worth Taking
She hid in the shadows of the hut, watching the guards patrol out of sunken, sleep-deprived eyes.
Her head was shaved and she was naked; her ribs jutted out as if they would pierce her pale skin. She was like a skeleton and yet she was alive. And she was madly, desperately, intently focused on staying alive.
She knew what she was waiting for. It was all that she had thought about for months. She had planned this to the last dangerous detail.
A shrill whistle sounded. It was time to act. She moved the tiniest of steps forwards, and winced as if even that caused her ghostly body pain.
The guards were moving now; changing shifts. She knew that they would not be stupid enough to leave an area unguarded, even for a second, but she had chosen the weak spot.
Only one guard remained. She was shivering now, both from the cold and the realisation of the terrible, terrible risk of what she was about to do.
She pulled a metal object from behind her back. It glistened in the moonlight, causing her further fear that the guard might see her. It was a gun.
She raised it, her bony arm shaking, and aimed at the Nazi, standing just metres away from her. She knew that she only had one shot, and she had to be quick. The second shift of guards would be there soon, and they would find the man’s dead body.
Her knuckles showed through her skin as she gripped the trigger, hesitantly. She didn’t know how she had been reduced to this, a desperate murderer, hardly human. But she had to survive; she had to escape.
She pulled it back, the shot sounded! It whizzed through the air and hit him in the back. He fell forwards; dead.
She ran, hearing the foreign shouts of the other Nazis, feeling their bullets dangerously near to her naked body.
The wall was only fifty feet away, she was almost there…
So near and yet so far. A bullet grazed her ankle, knocking of skin and bone. The pain was unbearable and she felt as if she could not go on. But she had to! She had to!
She was panting as she dived at the stone wall. The cold stone grazed her bare skin, the barbed wire cut into her. She was dripping with blood after climbing only a metre.
The guards were upon her.
She would die now, but in her heart she knew it had been a risk worth taking.
For what was the difference between life and death, stuck here in this nightmare? What was the point of living when the enemy had turned her into an animal?
Even as they put the gun to her head and pulled back the trigger, she knew that it had been a risk worth taking.
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