As I looked at my caved in cheeks and hollowed eye sockets, I couldn’t determine whether I’d ever return to my old life. Yesterday, a man told me that Hitler committed suicide, while the Red Army invaded Berlin. The war should be over soon. When I got back home, my home was taken by another family. For the last year, I’ve been homeless. Being homeless felt terrible, but being in a camp was hellish.
While I was on the streets, I learned how greedy people are. Everyday, only 1 out of 10 of the people passing give me money. I only manage to eat two meals a day, but the camp taught me to live through one meal a day. As the journey went farther, I lost my faith in God. He not only let my family die, but he left me to slowly rot. Everyday, I wonder how much closer I am to death.
One day, as I walked down the streets of Sighetu Marmației, I saw a man. He looked like my father, but one of his eyes were missing.. I walked closer to him with my heart beating extremely fast. Each step made me more excited. “Father?,” I asked. “Who?,” he asked with a strange face. He must have gotten amnesia. It was my father! His voice, his face, it must’ve been him.
Over a few weeks, I tried to explain everything that had happened to him, and who he is. Overtime, he started to learn his name, but not mine. As the weeks went by, I started to give up on my father. I cried believing I was forgotten. I realised that this was worse than death. I couldn't take life anymore.
As I was walking to the cathedral, I thought of the end. I walked into the cathedral. The priest by the door smiled at me. After he disappeared from view, I sprinted up the stairs. I was getting out of breath. Once I got to the top, I walked to the edge of the roof. When I was about to jump, the priest suddenly appeared behind me. “Do not jump!”, the priest exclaimed. “You have so much to live for!”. I knew what to do. I made my decision.