Author's Note:
Woohoo! First story!
This story was inspired by the film Schindler's List, which I had to watch for my film study in my English class. We were instructed to write a narrative loosely based off the film, and this is mine. Enjoy!
PS- Pictured above is the symbol homosexual men had to wear on their clothes to identify them. The Jews had the star of David, homosexuals had a bright pink triangle.
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~My whole life, there was only one thing I was ever truly afraid of. And that was losing him. But, like a fool, I didn't realise how much he meant to me, until he was gone.~

We were lying in the middle of the gravel roof of our many storied ghetto, taking advantage of the limited summer sun we had, letting the evening rays soak into our skin, hands loosely intertwined. We didn't talk, and we barely moved. We just let the cool breeze blow through our hair, and enjoyed what little time we had left together. Tomorrow, we were sure, was when we would meet our end. I had heard some of the older women from a few doors down muttering about it earlier. After hearing their suspicions, instinctively I had told Will immediately, and he dragged me up the multitude of dirty stairs from the 2nd floor to the roof, where we have stayed for several hours. We talked about it, about the almost certain death that awaits us in the coming days, and we had made peace with it. The second they began herding us out like cattle, we both knew we would most likely be shot on sight. Majority of the SS were too trigger happy to allow us to live long enough for an official sentence, more times than not, homosexuals were shot the second a Schutzstaffel soldier caught sight of the hot pink triangle sewed onto our shirts. I was honestly surprised and had no idea how we had managed to have lived this long. I did know, however, that if we were "evicted" tomorrow, he & I would not survive the day. I wished it had been different. That people were more open to difference and diversity. But they weren't, and for that we would pay the ultimate price.

Will had snapped me out of my thoughts by sitting up, and running a callous hand through his already tousled hair, the setting sun behind him causing the fluffy blonde locks to shine a brilliant gold, and dazzle my dark chocolate eyes once again. After he'd stretched his long tan limbs, he had turned to me, eyes as blue as a clear summer sky, and stared, capturing me in his sharp gaze. His gorgeous eyes had pierced my soul, wiggling their way through my mind and heart, endeavouring to try and worm out any and all hidden thoughts and feelings, as they always did. He expected me to be scared, I had soon realised, but I wasn't. I had accepted death, and I had hope that where ever I ended up afterwards, be it Heaven or Hell, he would be there with me. I wish I could know if my hope was worthwhile.

"The sun is setting." His smooth, mellow voice had uttered.

"So it is." I had replied. "We should probably head in."

He had grunted softly in agreement, then proceeded to stand, helped me up, then led me to the door, not once did he let go of my hand.

Supper had passed quickly, and before I could blink, we were lying in our shared bed, whispering sweet nothings to one another. All too soon, the gentle tendrils of sleep wrapped around my mind, and I soon fell into unconsciousness. 

The morning sun broke through the small windows of our compact room, coating the small, shabby place in a calm, warm light. It was a pleasant way to start the last day of your life. I had expected to wake up as I normally did, with Will's arms around me, his face buried in the back of my hair. So naturally, I was confused when I did not feel the heat of his body behind me, nor his gentle puffs of breath on the back of my neck. I got up out of the usually warm, mildly comfortable bed, which was cold and stiff, which had indicated to me that I had slept alone for most of the night. Almost instantly, fear had gripped my heart, terrified that the soldiers had come early just for him. For all I knew, they could have wanted him to work for them, they could've attempted to "set him straight". I wouldn't have been surprised, he did fit their "perfect German" stereotype. They scoured all over for the "Aryans", and most of the time people tried to pass as Aryan, so they could be safe and protected from the killings, unless of course they were found out. He would have never gone willingly though. He had hated the Nazis, and he would have fought until they killed him, as opposed to living unharmed and joining them. 

While searching for him in our tiny apartment, I had to side-step the Adlers, the small Jewish family of 5 we lived with. I wonder what will become of those poor children. My search had ended at the minute bathroom that came with the forced lodgings. Quietly calling his name, I pushed the already partially open doors to be greeted with a sight taken straight from my nightmares. Will lay on the floor, legs splayed out in front of him, back against the far wall, eyes closed, face peaceful, but most importantly, not breathing. In my shock I subconsciously connected the lack of movement and breath to the hundreds of cuts littered across both of his now colourless arms, his now dried blood coating him and the surrounding floor. My wobbling legs couldn't hold me up for very long, and soon I had fallen to the floor, sobbing and feeling as though half of my heart had been ripped from my chest. I am still not quite sure how long I spent in there, bawling over my lover's dead body, but it must have been a good while, as all too soon, I heard the distant slam of the door at the entrance of the building burst open, and the soldiers start pouring in. I stayed with Will until I could wait no longer, the soldiers were only a floor below us now, so I kissed his cold, bloodless lips one last time before racing out of the apartment, and up the stairs to the roof. 

...

Those were the sequence of events that led me to right here, right now. Standing on the edge of the roof, looking down at the pandemonium occurring in the cluttered streets far below. I was ready, I was prepared. We'd talked about this before, Will and I. We'd sat on this very roof, and discussed it. How high we were, how long it would take to reach the ground, if we would die upon impact with the ground. Will said we would do it together, that it wasn't that far to fall (though it was enough to lead to death), he said the last thing he wanted to look upon on this earth was me. I almost wonder what changed his mind, though I suppose I already know. We knew each other so well, we could practically read one another's minds, so I know what he was thinking, I know that the thing that changed was that he couldn't run the risk of him not dying first, of having to see me dead upon the ground, before the darkness claimed him as its own. I understand his reasoning, I really do, as what I wouldn't give to be in his place right now, after experiencing the extreme and overwhelming torture of knowing he is gone? He was rather selfish in the end, now I think about it. Oh well, if I ever see him again, I'll make sure to not stop nagging him about it. 

The soldiers are almost here, I can hear their thundering footsteps, trying to catch sneaky hiders or runaways. I refuse to give them the satisfaction of taking me alive, for I believed, as my love did, that my death should be on my terms, when I decided that my time on this Earth was up, then it would be. Not because some bloodthirsty Nazis got hungry for blood. It's my death and I will be damned if I don't die my way. My only wish now is that I'll see Will again, I still have hope that I will. With that in mind, I hear the soldiers burst onto the roof, hear them shout for me to stop, but I don't. I run, and I run, and I jump. He predicted it would be a shortish fall, even though we were awfully high up when on that roof.

As I hit the ground, a great mass of pain and darkness consumed me instantly, I knew then, that he guessed wrong. 

It really was a long way down.

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Author's Note:

Welp, that was sad. Sorry.

Thanks for reading!

-Miss Jackson