the last light

Auschwitz – November 1943

The days had begun to run together in a haze of grey. The sky above Auschwitz seemed perpetually overcast, and the bitter winds of winter cut through the camp like knives. Hannah's bones ached, her muscles stiff from the constant work and hunger. The cold was now an ever-present companion, one that made every breath painful, but it was the emotional chill that gnawed at her the most.

It wasn't just the hunger, or the beatings, or the brutality of the SS. It was the emptiness—the overwhelming sense that there was nothing left of the life she had once known. Her family was gone. Her friends were disappearing, one by one, like shadows swallowed by the night. And now, as she walked the barracks toward her assigned work detail, she wondered if her own life, too, was fading, just like the others.

A muffled cry broke the silence around her as she passed a group of prisoners huddled together. Her heart lurched, but she couldn't afford to stop. She couldn't afford to look.

If she did, the grief might break her.

The barracks had never been so cold. The walls seemed to close in around her, and there was a constant ache in her chest that felt like the weight of a thousand lost souls.

Hannah had heard whispers among the women—rumors of a new transport arriving, of the infamous selections taking place again. No one was safe. No one was ever safe. The constant fear of being chosen, of being singled out, was the only certainty in this hell.

It was early that evening when the sound of heavy boots echoed in the narrow corridors of the barracks. The SS guards had come. Their boots clicked sharply against the wooden floor, an unmistakable sound that struck terror into the hearts of all who heard it. They weren't just here for the roll call. They had come for something else.

Hannah could see it in the eyes of the women around her. Fear, so thick in the air that it felt suffocating.

The guards lined up the prisoners and began their inspection, their eyes cold and unfeeling as they scanned each woman. They seemed to be looking for something—or perhaps, looking for someone. The women stood rigidly, terrified to make any sudden movements.

"Rosenberg," one of the SS men called out, his voice sharp and harsh.

Hannah's heart lurched. She had heard that name before, but this time, it felt different. Her body froze, her legs stiff and unyielding.

She turned, her face drained of all color, and walked to the front of the group.

The SS man looked her up and down, his gaze impassive. "You're healthy enough," he muttered, as though inspecting livestock, before giving a brief, dismissive wave of his hand. "You're lucky."

Hannah stood there, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind a blur of confusion and disbelief. They hadn't chosen her. Not this time.

But then, as she began to turn away, a thought gnawed at her—what if they didn't choose her because they already knew her fate? What if it wasn't about the ones they picked, but about the ones they didn't?

She had heard stories of the "special" selections, the ones that weren't for the gas chambers or the labor camps but for other, more sinister purposes. She had heard rumors of human experimentation—things too awful to imagine.

For a moment, she thought she might collapse right there, the fear overwhelming her.

But then she saw Esther, standing at the back of the room, looking at her with those familiar, kind eyes. It was Esther's unwavering gaze that kept Hannah standing, kept her from crumbling into the ground. In that moment, despite the chaos and the terror that surrounded them, Esther was her anchor.

Esther's presence was the only thing that made the camp feel just a little less bleak. And for a fleeting moment, Hannah allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still hope.

The next morning, the women were again lined up for their work details. There had been no transports yet, no new arrivals. But something felt wrong. Something hung in the air, thick and oppressive.

Hannah and Esther were assigned to clear the fields near the crematorium. As they trudged through the mud, the bitter wind whipping at their faces, Hannah couldn't shake the feeling that something dreadful was waiting just beyond their reach. Every shadow felt like a threat, every rustle of wind a harbinger of doom. The guards moved through the camp like vultures, their eyes searching for any sign of weakness.

It wasn't until they had reached the farthest point of the camp, near the edge of the barbed wire, that they saw it.

A body.

It was lying face down in the snow, its limbs twisted in unnatural angles. A woman—her features barely recognizable beneath the dirt and the blood.

Hannah's breath caught in her throat. She recognized the woman, or at least, she thought she did. It was one of the new prisoners, the one who had stood near her during roll call just days before. She had seen her face, had exchanged brief glances, but now… now, she was just another lifeless body in the snow.

The guards didn't even look at the body. They simply walked past, as though it were an insignificant detail in their twisted world.

"Don't look," Esther whispered urgently, her voice breaking. "It's not worth it."

But it was too late. The image of the woman's lifeless body was burned into Hannah's mind, a cruel reminder of what they had become. They weren't just prisoners in Auschwitz. They were ghosts, walking among the living, their existence only as valuable as their ability to work, to survive another day.

The body was dragged away later that afternoon, like a discarded doll, never to be remembered.

Hannah stood motionless, her heart breaking. She had seen death many times before, but this felt different. It wasn't just the body. It was everything—the cruelty, the horror, the emptiness. They were all caught in this cycle, unable to escape, unable to stop.

She looked at Esther, and for a brief moment, she saw it—the same empty, defeated look in her friend's eyes.

"Are we going to survive this?" Hannah whispered, her voice breaking. She didn't want to ask, didn't want to speak the words, but they had been lingering in the back of her mind, like a dark shadow that refused to leave.

Esther didn't answer. She couldn't.

And as they turned to leave the cold field, the sky above them seemed to grow darker, as if the heavens themselves had lost hope.