Page 19 - Stars Behind the Tortured Soul

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I was just a young girl, lying on a cold steel table. I was starv-
ing, ill, cold, my hair was falling out, I had no meat left on my
body—I was composed only of bones. I had no energy to get
up. I knew I was going to be jabbed once again with needles,
but I had no strength to fight anymore. The last time I resisted,
I was severely punished and whipped. I let them stick the
needles into me to take my blood, what little there was left of
it. After the torture of the needle stabbing, I heard someone
on another table vomiting, and that sound was frightening.
But, I had no strength to run away. I had to endure hearing
that awful sound, smelling the stench of the vomit, and wit-
nessing the horrible act in the same way I had to endure be-
ing stuck repeatedly with needles.
The next thing I knew, still feeling scared and sad, I was
sitting with my grandmother who was empty inside, watch-
ing a movie about the Holocaust—the horror that she had
endured during her younger years. Within moments of the
movie’s commencement, watching how the victims were
tortured, starved, forced to labor, and used for experiments,
I knew I was there. I knew I had lived through that horrific
experience. That happened a lifetime ago, though in some
ways it felt like it had happened yesterday, because I felt just
as tortured in this life as I did in the last.
There is absolutely no denying that the atrocities orches-