A one-shot I wrote. Sorta follows Prinzessin, but not really. Based on the Holocaust. Critisicm highly welcomed and appreciated.

She believed in God.

Her papa had always taught her to remain devoted to the holy almighty from a young age. Despite not understanding the meaning of his teachings, she loved her papa and listened to the instructions he gave. She prayed in the synagogue beside him every day, listening to his familiar murmuring in the language of her religion and persistently trying to make the same sounds and words come out of her mouth. When she had finally learned them and was able to recite them correctly, she was whisked away from the synagogue, being taught that her place was in the house; cooking, cleaning, and mothering—however, the latter didn't apply to her for she was only seven.

Her papa knew she was upset she was no longer allowed to accompany him to pray every morning, so he sat her down and taught her the one of the two lessons she would remember for the rest of her life: believe in God, always, and never stop; for he shall answer your prayers and always provide assistance.

She'd forgotten the prayers, over the years; but that didn't stop her faith in God. Whenever her papa worried he couldn't pay the bills, she prayed beside her bed in the evenings before she went to sleep for assistance in their life. Her prayers were always answered, for somehow her family always managed to pull through.

However, there came a darker time; Papa became ill. It had gotten so bad she started to pray to God over three times a day, unashamedly begging and weeping for Papa to get better. She knelt by his side and slaved over trying to make him well and healthy again. He only pulled her close and gave her the second lesson: everything that God lets happen is for a reason.

He died, later on that night.

Nine years later she still religiously followed and reminded herself of those two lessons; especially when her mother and her were split and shoved into two different cattle cars. Days and days the cars drove on, a mass number of weeping, praying, begging people shut up inside. She remained silent, however, and wept quietly, trying to convince herself that everything would turn out for the better; God was watching them from above, he wouldn't let anything bad happen to them without reason.

At one point they were all transferred from cattle cars to boxcars, the conditions becoming even worse around her: sweltering hot during the day, painfully cool at night; no water, no food left, eerily claustrophobic. The cries around her were weaker, some disappearing completely. She shook her head and lay back against the splintery wall surrounding her; it shouldn't be too much longer to reach their destination; she could feel it.

Within a couple of hours the boxcars pulled up to a gravelly area, surrounded by barbed wire with guards everywhere. They were shoved out of the boxcars, with shouted instructions to leave the dead behind. Words were shouted in German all around her; harsh, unfamiliar words that she didn't understand.

God, I pray to you that no harm should come to anybody because of this.

She watched as men, women and children split into two different sides; men to the left, women and children to the right. She began to stumble to the right when a sharp blow shoved her in the back and made her fall on the floor. With terrified eyes she looked upon her offender, who smacked her in the face and yelled at her in German. Before he could slap her again she shot up and ran to the right, cowering amongst the other women and children.

What was going on?

Where was her mother? Was she alright?

The questions shot through her head as more instructions were shot at them; unidentifiable instructions. She tried to follow the examples of the other woman and followed the crowd. Followed them to a gray cement building; smoke crawling out of the chimney in sad spirals, almost warning them of their future. However, before they made it inside, each being stood in front of three soldiers, answering their questions in alien tongues. When it was her turn she tried to use what little German she knew to answer their questions; the questions she understood, at least.

The man pointed to the left.

With a smaller group of women and children, she followed them into the building where they were made to shed their clothes and wait. Most were weeping; others praying. Some were wailing, and berating themselves for not escaping when they had the chance. However, she was not weeping, nor praying. She had faith that she would be alright. She had faith in her God, that he would make things alright; he wouldn't let anything wrong happen without reason.

She didn't know what was to be her fate.

They were ushered into a room, a small room with multiple shower heads. She relaxed a little, thinking that they were just going to have a long shower to cleanse them from the journey. Patiently she waited, ignorantly missing how the doors were bolted all around them. She ignored the weeps and wails, and shouts of protests. She ignored how the mothers clung to their children all around, doing their best to protect them. She looked upwards, wondering when the showerheads would turn on.

A strange smell filled the air.

Black gas subtly crept around, making their way to complete their duty.