Belsen, 6/5/1945:
My hair whipped wildly as I leaned against the wired enclosure of the military airfield, squinting sourly at the trajectory of the Red Cross flagship that whisked you away to be treated; arms folded across my chest in an attempt to shield the serrated hole that threatened to gnaw at my insides.
Micah… Lovely, lovely Micah…
How dare those doctors touch your pristine porcelain skin, erase those red patches I gifted you with?
Even as I child, I loved to rip open toys I held dear. Such was my desire to know what made them so beautiful to begin with.
This is love, I’ll have you know.
I’m no sadist, though certain idiots will holler otherwise.
When I say ‘idiots’, I mean-
Nuremberg, 8/8/1945:
-Yes, those fish-faced Brits, the Americans, the French; all gazing at me with halibut-like eyes.
“You are Helmut Hildebrandt, member of the Schutzstaffel?” The Chief Prosecutor inquired in a crisp voice.
Obviously. Otherwise you wouldn’t have taken me into custody.
“You are aware of the charges brought against you by that man?”
What man? Oh, you mean that fellow dragging himself to the witness box? Who on earth-?
Presently, I all but gasped.
Back then, I stood at the airport, watching them walk away, not knowing when or if I’d see them again-
However-
Ah, Micah… My dear, dear Micah… So the Red Cross brought you hack to testify against me?
You were that eager to see me, eh?
I knew I was right. I knew you loved me back.
Why else would you have been so hell-bent on engaging me in fisticuffs each time we crossed paths?
Exchanging blows-
“Micah Silverstein, could you tell us, in the presence of the Hon’ble Lord Justice, what exactly this officer inflicted on you?”
–so very sensual.
I really did like your grit. No one stood up to me like you did. Made me wish to shatter you like glass all the more.
Broken, damaged, like a dove with its legs bruised…
Pretty, pretty, pretty…
“That swine gassed my relatives, need I say more? As for my own pain-” Micah was unbuttoning his shirt.
Oh, those pink splotches- Like fresh peonies blossoming at the break of spring…
“Do you deny these accusations?”
“Oh no! Accuse away all you want. I did enjoy putting my beloved Micah through the wringer-”
But then, I stopped short.
I thoroughly savoured my time with Micah, no use disregarding it.
I’m an honest man when it comes to love, I admit to it freely. Consequently, if I declare ‘I plead guilty’-
“On second thought,” I grinned at the Chief Prosecutor, “I think I’ll just deny everything!”
As expected, the Hon’ble Lord Justice adjourned the proceedings.
I wouldn’t mind hanging for love, but if denial would mean I’d get to see my plaything once more in the witness box, I’d refute.
Micah, how exquisite you look, marked by my little gestures of affection…
I ain’t letting you depart from my side soon, mate.
