People Are Idiots

People Are Idiots

"They could be coming any time now," He said. His eyes, as wide and as blue as oceans, held a look of fear.

Loud clatter of hundreds of men marching ringing through our eardrums. With each sound wave he shook with nervousness.

"Don't worry," I said. "They will not find us."

"What if they do?" He asked, putting his cold, sweaty, quivering hands on my shoulders, also damp with presperation, and making my whole body quake in the same beat of his shakey palms.

I did not want to answer him. I did not want to express in words that the possiblity of the both us getting caught would then lead to our deaths. If we were to be captured, he would be killed, as well as I, for helping out a person of his kind.

"Just leave while you can, Camilla!" He yelled, muffling the sound of armed men tramping through the dark night. A few birds in the trees of the forest were also startled by the sudden outburst.

"I-" Remembering that we are still in hiding, I caught myself from screaming back. "I won't. I can't just leave you here, Evan." I said in a whisper.

Evan, turning his head in all directions of the booming noises surrounding us to see if we were safe still, said "I love you as much as you love me." Now, keeping his sights on me, he continued "And because I love and care for you so much, I cannot have you die for me."

"As long as we keep motionless and quite enough, there is no way anyone is going to find us here." I reassured him. I do not like seeing his eyes full of worry, but I suppose hiding from police sent out to murder anyone with blond hair and eyes of blue wouldn't exactly be the most calming of situations.

"I want to believe you," Evan said, ruffling his moss of pale, curly hair.

"Then do." I replied. "We're pretty deep into the woods. There's no way they would come all the way back here without a sign that anyone is even here. Lets not give them a sign."

Evan heard me, but did not reply. He pressed up against a nearby tree and closed his eyes. This is the Evan Thornley way of giving up on an arguement, and maybe shutting his eyelids helps give him the illusion that everything is all right.

Side-by-side, behind two different trees, we are standing. My nails, digging so deep into the bark of the tree that felt up against my back, are beginning to ache. I thought getting my Jewish family and friends to accept the person I have fallen in love with was hard and unbearable. This is much more than that. In all my seventeen years of living, right now has to be the most frightening.

"How long do you think we'll have to wait out here, Camilla?" Evan asked as he plopped to the ground, which produced a crunch noise of sat on dry, brittle leaves.

"Until they leave. We will be able to tell whenever it gets quite."

Evan starts to look back at me. The look in his eyes indicating me that he wants to start up an important exchanging of words.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Oh?" He said, as though he wasn't expecting me to question him for the look apon his face. Then, started off "It's just... well, you have risked a lot for being with me, Camilla."

This is the important conversation I was waiting for.

"True, but it's been worth it." I replied, inching closer to him, yearning to stroke my olive-toned hand across his snowflake-like cheek.

"At first, I did not even think someone like you would even look twice at a person like me."

"Why?" I asked.

"I am Aryan. I am inferior. You could have found someone who wasn't cursed with my heritage or the color of my hair or eyes. Why me? I thought," Evan said. " And all of this trouble that comes along with us being together is not worth if for you."

I knew the dynamic differences between Evan and I were apparent, and that many others might find them important to wether or not two people were meant for each other. I did not think that my own Catholic, blond-haired, blue-eyed boyfriend payed attention to any nonsense of that sort. It does not matter to me, and it should not to him either.

"Outer appearances don't play a role in someone's character. Therefore, it should not mean anything at all."

"Bullshit," he muttered under his breath.

"Evan!"

"It is! If a person's looks doesn't matter than then why are we hiding out in this forest? Why is this war going on, and why is there a genocide towards people who look like me?"

I didn't know what to say. I simply do not know why either: Why is this war going on, and why are people getting killed for being told to have the "Wrong" hair and eye color.

I then came up with a reason and said "People are idiots, that's why."

With neither agreement or opposement, Evan shook his head.

My eyes growing tired and weary, began to make it harder for me to stay awake. It feels like invisible five pound weights were tied to my eye lids. With all my strength, I couldn't keep my eyelids seperated, and the dark, wet forest continued to leave and return back in my sight.

"Camilla," Evan whispered, "it's okay. Go to sleep if you want. I'll keep an eye out and tell you whenever it is time for us to get out."

I wanted to reply with an "Okay," as Evan patted my messy hair, but my words coming out of my exhausted mouth probably was "Maaah-k," or anything else not of the English languege.

I begun to doze off, and everything from the loud clatter of the marching men, to the sight of the dark trees, disappeared.

Eyes starting to open, I looked around. The noise had stopped. Everything looks brighter than the night, or morning, before. I can not recall what time I went to sleep, or how many hours have passed now. Chirps of chipper song birds feel pleasant going into my ears, especially after an all-nighter of loud clunks, gun-shots, and bangs.

"Evan," I said happily as I stood up, dusting the dirt from my clothes. "Everything's over. We can leave now."

Looking around the scenery of soil, trees, and leaves, I could not see him.

"Evan...?" I walked around, looking for my estranged lover. Still nothing.

This could not be happening. He has to be somewhere, I began to panic.

I searched around everywhere looking for the boy I loved. Looking for the blond curls that were always neatly placed on his head, and the boy whose sea-like eyes made me feel of comfort (I would really need those eyes again now). As I went on and on of the search, Evan was still missing, and I could not find him.

Each step I took reminded me of Evan dropping down to the ground of dry leaves, since both stepping and sitting, on leaves all make the same sound.

"Where are you, Evan?" I asked, tears running down my face. "Why would you abandon me here?"

Then it hits me, like a bullet from a shotgun. He was convinced we would have been found. He wanted to save me, and have the police kill him solo, leaving me safe and sound. My boyfriend Evan Michael Thornley has sacrificed his precioius, endangered life for my own. The realization of this has darkened the orange sun-light of the bright forest I lay motionless in. His decision of the night before now altered everything.

"They wouldn't have caught us!" I cried out, hoping Evan would hear from the clouds of the Heavens.

If only he had listened to my words. That appearances did not matter, and that people are idiots. I still believe now, with Evan's death, that it is worth being with a person you love, even though others may not feel the same. Possibly, if he had, I would still be able to look into those oceanic eyes that I love, and need.