the echoes of tyhe passt

Auschwitz – September 1943

The days had become a blur of dust, sweat, and desperation. The harsh cold of autumn had begun to creep into the camp, seeping into the bones of the prisoners like a slow poison. The thin coats they were given did little to protect them from the elements, but the cold was nothing compared to the gnawing hunger, the constant fear of the guards, and the relentless brutality of the work.

Hannah had become used to the noise of the camp—the sound of boots marching in perfect sync, the clang of metal tools against stone, the shouts of the SS, and the soft murmur of prayers whispered under breath. It was all she had left now, this rhythm of survival, of staying alive one more day, one more hour, one more minute.

But there were moments when it all felt like too much.

That morning, the work detail had been particularly grueling. The women had been forced to carry heavy stones from one end of the camp to the other, under the watchful eyes of the Kapos and the SS guards. Every step had been agony, the weight of the stones pressing down on their frail bodies, each step a reminder of their powerlessness.

Hannah's arms trembled as she lifted another stone, her palms raw and bleeding. Her breath came in shallow gasps, but she didn't dare stop. Not even for a moment. She had seen what happened to those who did. The whips. The fists. The merciless punishment.

When the workday finally ended, the prisoners were marched back to the barracks. The air had grown colder, and the sky was a dull, muted gray, as if even nature itself had given up on the world.

Hannah stumbled toward the barracks, her legs barely able to carry her. She had become so weak from hunger and exhaustion that she was beginning to doubt her ability to keep going. The faces of the other women were equally hollow, their eyes empty, their shoulders sagging from the weight of their shared misery.

Esther was waiting by the door of the barracks, her hands trembling as she adjusted the thin blanket that covered her shoulders.

"Hannah, you're alive," Esther said, her voice hoarse with relief. "You made it through the day."

Hannah didn't answer right away. She just nodded, too tired to speak. The exhaustion was consuming her. She had never felt this weak, this close to breaking.

But then Esther's next words brought her back to reality.

"Rivka's gone," Esther said, her voice cracking. "She was chosen. Last night."

Hannah felt the air around her grow still. Rivka. Her friend. The one person who had kept her going through the darkest days. It felt like a punch to the gut, the grief overwhelming her in an instant.

"No," Hannah whispered, her voice breaking. "No, she couldn't be..."

Esther's eyes filled with tears, but she didn't cry. There was no time for tears in Auschwitz. Not anymore.

"I'm sorry, Hannah," Esther said softly. "I'm so sorry."

Rivka had been strong, full of life, even in this hellish place. She had fought to survive, just like Hannah, just like everyone else. How could she be gone?

But the truth was, no one was safe here. Not in Auschwitz. No one was untouchable. Not even the strongest among them.

Hannah felt a wave of helplessness crash over her. She had fought to survive. She had clung to life with everything she had, but now, what was the point? What was the point of fighting if the people she loved were taken one by one, disappearing into the void?

The sound of footsteps outside the barracks snapped Hannah from her thoughts. A guard was approaching. His heavy boots echoed through the silence of the camp, and every prisoner in the barracks stiffened in fear.

"Up!" the guard barked. "Roll call!"

Hannah didn't move at first. Her body felt like lead. It took everything she had just to stand up, her legs trembling beneath her. She wanted to close her eyes and disappear. To fall into the dark and never wake up.

But she couldn't. Not yet.

She followed Esther out into the cold, her heart heavy with grief. The roll call line stretched in front of her, and she took her place, barely able to focus on the rows of women around her. They were all the same now—hollow-eyed, broken, moving like automatons through the endless grind of survival.

But Hannah's thoughts kept drifting back to Rivka. Her laugh. Her fire. Her unbreakable spirit.

Was it possible that Rivka had really gone? Had the light in her eyes truly been extinguished? Or was it just another cruel lie, another betrayal by the camp that had stolen everything from them?

The roll call dragged on, each name called a reminder of the women who had once stood beside her and were now gone. They were like ghosts now, haunting the camp, their faces fading from memory.

When the roll call finally ended, the prisoners were ordered back to the barracks. As Hannah shuffled back inside, her heart felt like it was breaking all over again.

She lay down on the hard wooden floor of the barracks, curling up into a ball. The cold seeped through her thin blanket, but it was nothing compared to the icy emptiness in her chest.

She closed her eyes, trying to hold onto the memory of Rivka, trying to remember her laugh, her smile, her warmth. But the memories were already fading, slipping through her fingers like sand.

And in the darkness of the barracks, Hannah realized that the only thing that kept her going now was the hope that one day, someone would remember them. The women of Auschwitz. The souls lost to this hell.

But even that hope felt like a distant dream.

Because here, in the heart of the camp, where death was an ever-present shadow, survival had become the only thing that mattered. And even that seemed impossible.