Dear Diary,

Today I watched a Nazis beat an innocent man with his boots until his red blood stained the snow. It was horrifying to watch, but after some time of being in this place, I don't feel anything anymore. I have become numb. I have seen too much to ever feel again.

I have been giving half of my food to my twin brothers, Alex and Max. I've been hiding them for some time. The Nazis came and took all of the children away, but I hid my brothers, not letting anyone take them away from me. I won't let them go to Auschwitz or to Mengele or anywhere away from me.  I'll protect them until my dying breath. At this point, I don't even care if I die. As long as my brothers are safe.

I look down at the purple triangle upon my shirt, the symbol of humiliation that I must bare. I used to hang my head and cry in shame, but no tears fall from my eyes. They're dry now. I've cried so many times that I haven't had the will to cry anymore. I'll ignore the purple triangle as long as I can and wait for my expecting death to come. And I will accept it with open arms.

The smoke from the burning fires have now become my new air. The ashes that fall from the sky have become my new snow. I wither down within the kingdom of death, the angel of death and his god delivering the final solution. Their thoughts and ideas of genocide have tainted our world, turning snow into ash and oxygen into smoke. They all wear gas masks and have oxygen tanks and umbrellas. My people don't have any of those, as we are meant to die and to decay and to be forgotten. I am prepared for that fate, but no one else is. So what is the point of trying and hoping if no one outside cares?

I'll make the smoke my oxygen. And I'll make the ash my snow. I'll make the fences my home. And I'll make the prisoners my people. My people will rise and defeat the wards. But we are too weak to fight, so maybe someone else will come and save us from this doom. But I highly doubt it. All I can think about is death. And I can already see my grave being dug.

I don't know when I'll be able to write again, or if my people will ever be liberated. But after the ashes fall, and smoke clears, and the fires stop burning, read my diary, and rescue my people and bring them to salvation. If God won't help us, then maybe a greater force will.