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“Meruvina ,” her mother whispered into her ear as she hugged her goodbye. Mena’s mother was fleeing to the countryside. Her father, a well-known politician, had decided it was what was best the war was getting to be too much and Mena could understand. What she didn’t understand was why Franz, her husband and a general in the German army, wouldn’t send her with her mother. He was a fool if he thought she felt safe. Waving as the car moved away down the road she heard the bells tolling the hour and scrambled to get things ready. Checking on the staff she rushed around preparing things for Franz’s arrival. The bruise on her cheek was no laughing matter the pictures she’d had taken were beautiful and they were for the cause, she honestly thought that he would love them. But the anger and the rage he’d shown her had left her swollen and bruised, the other marks easily hidden beneath her clothing. He then took her as she lay bleeding, screaming that she was a whore.
Shaking off the memories she poured him a portion of vodka and ran to greet him at the door. Cream colored dress, decorated in deep rose polka dots, it swirled around her calves. The sleeves were slightly puffed and the matching ribbon accentuated her slender waist. Blonde hair coifed perfectly and pulled away from her face. Wide blue eyes crinkled as she smiled up at him, her face made up the way he liked. She was in a sense exactly what Hitler meant by Aryan. The dark thunderous look on his face told her that he wasn’t happy. Tilting her head she smiled and held out the glass of vodka. “What is wrong Franz? Was work that bad?” Franz jerked his overcoat off and flung it to the ground. Glaring at her he knocked the glass to the wooden floor and let it shatter. Her blue eyes glanced at the pieces and then back up to her husband. She came face to face with the photos of herself.
The town car had pulled to a stop in front of the little wooden house on the edge of town a few days ago. The sleepy little town housed many like her, Franz sent her away. She hadn’t wanted to leave him, not when he was so angry with her. She was only told it was for a good cause, not that she would be put on the front of a calendar as well as in it. Do you want help the soldiers, yes, then pose for me? I make you famous, put your face on everything. Should have kept walking, said no. But not helping was like joining the other side. The bruises he’d left her with were knotted and tender, ranging in colors of deep purple to greenish yellow. All she could do was scream that she was sorry and that she loved him. He kept yelling that she was a whore and a disgrace to his name. She watched as he got up from the floor where he’d left her and ate dinner then went to sleep in their bed. The servants helped her up, cleaned and dressed her wounds and settled her in the couple’s spare bedroom.
Even now she cringed at the thought of the beating, his fist hitting her back and the solid -thunk- sound it made when it landed. This was the first time she had ventured out of the house since arriving. Her mother fretted, she’d heard news of troops moving into the area, they had seen nothing but neither left the house, her relatives wouldn’t allow it. Finally after much begging she was allowed out into the sunshine. Arm laden with a basket she wore a light blue dress edged in white. It hung off of her slender frame, left over from a cousin. She had to look less than she was, though her true beauty could not be hidden, but if anyone suspected her as a general’s wife she would be in danger. Her rings were left in her home in Munich, along with all of her fancy clothing and toiletries. Looking like a peasant, she moved amongst the others in the market blending in. Her mother needed items to make them food and had used the last of their supplies.
Weaving amongst the stands she found what she thought was the poorest amongst those selling. Placing her money in the withered woman’s hands she purchased her items. The woman kept adding things, stating the woman had paid her too much for so little. Mena merely smiled and lifted her hands, “No it is nothing, keep it for you need it more than I.” She moved away from the booth, sun glinting on her blonde waves that she allowed to hang loose about her shoulders and down her back. Smiling at the children running in the street, which was something she hadn’t been blessed with yet. Part of her didn’t want to have a child with Franz, especially if he could lose his anger so quickly. Moving gracefully back through the streets she pulled her lips together and tried to appear emotionless as those around her. A sharp pinging sound as bullets crashed against the walls around her had the streets cleared in the matter of minutes. Dropping her basket she crouched next to one of the wooden market carts. She heard voices and trembled in fear. Squeezing tight her eyes she silently prayed she would not be found.
Shaking off the memories she poured him a portion of vodka and ran to greet him at the door. Cream colored dress, decorated in deep rose polka dots, it swirled around her calves. The sleeves were slightly puffed and the matching ribbon accentuated her slender waist. Blonde hair coifed perfectly and pulled away from her face. Wide blue eyes crinkled as she smiled up at him, her face made up the way he liked. She was in a sense exactly what Hitler meant by Aryan. The dark thunderous look on his face told her that he wasn’t happy. Tilting her head she smiled and held out the glass of vodka. “What is wrong Franz? Was work that bad?” Franz jerked his overcoat off and flung it to the ground. Glaring at her he knocked the glass to the wooden floor and let it shatter. Her blue eyes glanced at the pieces and then back up to her husband. She came face to face with the photos of herself.
The town car had pulled to a stop in front of the little wooden house on the edge of town a few days ago. The sleepy little town housed many like her, Franz sent her away. She hadn’t wanted to leave him, not when he was so angry with her. She was only told it was for a good cause, not that she would be put on the front of a calendar as well as in it. Do you want help the soldiers, yes, then pose for me? I make you famous, put your face on everything. Should have kept walking, said no. But not helping was like joining the other side. The bruises he’d left her with were knotted and tender, ranging in colors of deep purple to greenish yellow. All she could do was scream that she was sorry and that she loved him. He kept yelling that she was a whore and a disgrace to his name. She watched as he got up from the floor where he’d left her and ate dinner then went to sleep in their bed. The servants helped her up, cleaned and dressed her wounds and settled her in the couple’s spare bedroom.
Even now she cringed at the thought of the beating, his fist hitting her back and the solid -thunk- sound it made when it landed. This was the first time she had ventured out of the house since arriving. Her mother fretted, she’d heard news of troops moving into the area, they had seen nothing but neither left the house, her relatives wouldn’t allow it. Finally after much begging she was allowed out into the sunshine. Arm laden with a basket she wore a light blue dress edged in white. It hung off of her slender frame, left over from a cousin. She had to look less than she was, though her true beauty could not be hidden, but if anyone suspected her as a general’s wife she would be in danger. Her rings were left in her home in Munich, along with all of her fancy clothing and toiletries. Looking like a peasant, she moved amongst the others in the market blending in. Her mother needed items to make them food and had used the last of their supplies.
Weaving amongst the stands she found what she thought was the poorest amongst those selling. Placing her money in the withered woman’s hands she purchased her items. The woman kept adding things, stating the woman had paid her too much for so little. Mena merely smiled and lifted her hands, “No it is nothing, keep it for you need it more than I.” She moved away from the booth, sun glinting on her blonde waves that she allowed to hang loose about her shoulders and down her back. Smiling at the children running in the street, which was something she hadn’t been blessed with yet. Part of her didn’t want to have a child with Franz, especially if he could lose his anger so quickly. Moving gracefully back through the streets she pulled her lips together and tried to appear emotionless as those around her. A sharp pinging sound as bullets crashed against the walls around her had the streets cleared in the matter of minutes. Dropping her basket she crouched next to one of the wooden market carts. She heard voices and trembled in fear. Squeezing tight her eyes she silently prayed she would not be found.
