Concentration Camp Narrative

Today, is my second day in concentration camp #59, which goes by the name Sobibor; an extermination camp. (Which is just one type of many different purposed camps, including prisons, labor, and transit camps.) I arrived here yesterday at roughly a quarter to noon, with my sickly mother Aliza and two older brothers Adam (17) and David (21). My father was brutally murdered yesterday by one of the many Nazi soldiers who invaded our home. “Eliana, sis, wake up. Protocol will begin in five minutes, and we better not be late,” my brother David cooed. I rolled over, letting out a small scream as my wounds from yesterday brushed against the floor. “Those whip burns aren’t feeling any better than yesterday, huh? Well up we go.” As he assisted me up, I noticed that his hands were blistering red and covered in dirt.
“What happened to your hands?” I questioned.
“Oh its nothing, just a little blistering.” I looked straight into his
I blankly looked up at the cold sky. The best part of this moment was that snow began to fall, which acted as an ice pack for my head-wound. Everything feeling as it was glazed over, I saw my brother get up, rage filling his face along with disputation. I cocked my head in an uncomfortable position to see him walk over to the smirking guard. Tears filling my eyes I witnessed as my brother punched the guard right in the nose. The he jumped on him and wrestled him on the slick and icy ground. The guard, twice his size and stature threw him off stood up and fired one loud shot. My brother crumpled up on the ground. I brought my hand up to my head in pure shock, longing for this to be my imagination, when I felt a warm smooth and sticky liquid coming out my head. I brought my hand down to in front of my eyes to see that the color of scarlet red on my hand matched the color of the blood on my big