ATOP Chapter Fifty-Seven

*Trigger warning: this chapter has violent/graphic material... 

Rebekah grit her teeth in determination as she shoved up her sleeve. The greenish-black numbers glared up at her... a mark of shame. Those numbers kept her awake at night, they seemed to be burning into her skin... 

"I will not belong to them anymore," she hissed, gripping the knife handle so tightly her knuckles were white. "They cannot own me, they cannot mark me, the fools..." Her mind flashed back to the moment those numbers had been forced onto her skin. She had been screaming, writhing, trying to fight them away. It was a Jew who had done the tattooing, a prisoner forced to do this terrible task of disfiguration... but it was a Nazi guard who had held her arm in place. He had shoved her roughly up against the table, pushing her down until she lay halfway on it. His fingers had dug into her arms, leaving dark purple marks. They hadn't lasted visibly, the way the tattoo had, but she still felt them, every time she remembered that day. She had screamed louder, fighting him... and he had slammed her head onto the table. When the first sudden pain subsided and the haze of impact gradually left her, there were five crooked, black numbers on her arm...

She would not keep them any longer, this mark of slavery and inferiority... and yet she was terrified to go through with this. She glanced back at the house, braced herself against the tree trunk, and drew a deep, shaking breath. Her hand trembled, and she fought to keep it steady as she laid the blade of the knife gently against her skin. It was in place... but she couldn't watch... and she squeezed her eyes shut as she pushed down on the blade, feeling the sharp sting of pain.

Once she had begun, it was easier to keep going. She steeled her mind against the pain, clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached, and cut again. Just a little more and the numbers would be gone... But blood was streaming over her arm and her head was spinning. Everything seemed to be fading to black... She heard someone calling her name through the sudden roar that filled her ears and she surrendered the knife willingly when Mickey's fingers closed around her own.

"Ohhh... Bekah... what have you done?" he gathered her close against him and she didn't even fight him, although she wanted to. She could only just barely see him as he tore off his shirt and wrapped it tight around her arm. Her vision was going blurry and she knew she wouldn't be able to stand on her own. But it didn't matter... he was lifting her from the ground and she let her head fall back against his chest. 

It hurt so bad, she could scarcely keep back the tears this time. Somehow, she managed. But oh, she wanted to fall unconscious so badly, just to escape the pain... and yet she stayed half-awake through it all. It was like living in a dream. Mickey had run with her in his arms, and she kept her eyes closed all the while, too sick to open them... but she knew where he was taking her. She had heard the frightened, concerned voices of both Ronnie and Rachel, and then she was in the backseat of the car and on the way to town, Mickey still with her, still holding her close. She was angry at him, and yet she was glad he was with her. It wasn't until they had made it to town and he carried her into the doctor's office that suddenly everything was black and silent... and she remembered nothing more until she woke up to find it all over.

"Is it gone now?" she whispered as Ronnie bent over her.

"I... I don't know." His eyes were filled with concern. "You'll have a terrible scar, for sure... as for the... the numbers... only time will tell."

"Is... is Mickey still here?"

Ronnie smiled slowly and turned to nod at someone just beyond Rebekah's range of vision. Mickey stepped forward hesitantly and Rebekah reached out to him with her good arm. He took her hand and knelt beside her, biting nervously on his lip. 

"You coulda hurt yourself real bad," he whispered, his voice husky with tears. "You scared me half to death, Bekah..."

"She did hurt herself really bad," Ronnie muttered. "It was a crazy, dreadful thing to do, Rebekah Adler. I..."

"You do not understand," Rebekah shook her head in frustration. "You cannot imagine, either of you, what it is like to be disfigured by people who hate you and want to destroy you."

"I don't know what all you've been through, Bekah," Ronnie answered quietly. "But I understand more than you think I do." He pushed back his hair to reveal a long and jagged scar streaked across the top of his forehead. Rebekah's eyes widened. She wanted to know more, but he didn't say another word about it... just moved back as Mickey leaned closer.

"Bekah, please..." Mickey squeezed her hand. "Bekah, I want to understand. Help me to understand. You can tell me anything, I promise." He bent his head until it rested against hers and for the first time, she didn't pull away at his touch. "I know you're in pain, and it hurts me to see it, I mean it, Bekah. Just... just tell me how to help you."

"Impossible," Rebekah hissed, letting her eyes fall shut as she squeezed his hand back. "You can never understand."

"At least..." Mickey bit his lip again and a tear slid down his cheek. "At least let me be your friend."

Rebekah hesitated. A long moment of silence passed. She took a deep, shaking breath, and then another. 

"Mein freund," she whispered, so softly he barely caught the words. "Mein lieber freund, my dear friend... I... I am... sorry..."

She opened her eyes and he smiled sadly at her. 

"Dear friend," he repeated and bent to brush an almost imperceptible kiss on her cheek. She moved her head... but only slightly.

"I will go fishing with you on Saturday, if you want me to," she offered an answering smile and his broke into an irrepressible grin.

"Only if your arm is alright by then. At least getting better. And if you promise you won't ever try anything like that again."

"I only wanted to get rid of the numbers," she murmured and closed her eyes again. "I... I want to go home now..."

It was the first time she had ever spoke of any place other than Israel as home...

♡♡♡

"Found a string, Mommy," Benjie called from the corner of the living room where he was bending over to study something quite intently. "Is a loooong string." He began pulling on aforementioned string to prove his point.

"Oy vey, Benjie..." Rebekah laughed, jumping up from her chair. "Do not touch that, please... no... no, give it to me... jah, thank you, schatzie... ach, my crocheting..."

"Is your string, Becky?" Benjie gathered it up, making quite a muddle of it. Rebekah fell back into the chair at Rachel's warning glance.

"Bekah, your arm... be careful..." 

Rebekah grimaced, touching her bandaged arm with tentative fingertips. Benjie dumped the tangled yarn into her lap with a contrite little "Sowwy, Becky."

"Ach, dear thing," Rebekah leaned forward to kiss the little boy on the top of his head. "I have to admit, Mama Rachel, you have the sweetest and the best little boys. And can I please hold your baby now?"

"Are you sure?" Rachel glanced at her, concerned. "Can you hold him alright without hurting yourself worse?"

"Please, I do not want to talk about it," Rebekah sighed. She glanced over at Shonie who was lying on her stomach in the center of the rug, kicking her heels together and propping her chin on her hand as she paged slowly through a picture book. The younger girl had tossed her sweater aside and the black numbers on her arm were clearly visible. Rebekah's heart wrenched. 

"I am sorry," Rachel murmured. She rose from her chair and moved to settle the baby carefully into her sister's arms. "I just worry for you..."

"Well, you do not have to," Rebekah snapped. "I took care of myself and Shonie for years, and we survived, alright? Aw, precious baby..." she turned her focus to the tiny newborn, cuddling him close against her heart. "Sweet, precious little one..."

Shonie shut her book with a contented sigh and smiled to herself for a moment. Clambering to her feet, she wondered over to the piano and pushed back the cover. Hesitantly she touched a finger to the keys and played a single note. 

Rachel?" Rebekah spoke in a whisper in between brushing gentle kisses on Judah's fuzzy head. "Can I ask you something?" 

"Jah, of course," Rachel rummaged through the basket at her side, retrieving her knitting needles. "Is everything alright?"

"Jah, jah... I just... um..." she faltered. "How... how did Ronnie get that awful scar on his forehead?"

"Ach... that..." Rachel's face paled. "I... well... you saw the newspaper article..."

"Jah, but... I wanted to know specifically. I mean... it was something he said... something I said... I am not sure..."

Rachel drew in a deep breath. "I... I suppose I could... well... I do not know if he wants... well, but..." she frowned. "I..."

"I will not breathe a word, I promise," Rebekah bit her lip. "I am sorry I asked... I just... needed to know, I guess. Is it a battle wound?"

"I suppose you could call it that," Rachel shrugged. "It happened the night they beat him."

"But... it must have been done with a knife... not a fist..."

"Jah," Rachel whispered. "A... a bayonet, actually."

"Bayonet..."

"Jah. They... they did it intentionally... held him down and sliced all the way across his head... ach, my poor Ronnie... I cannot think of it..." she dropped her knitting to cover her face with her hands. 

"So he understands..." Rebekah leaned back in her chair and hugged Judah closer. "Oy vey..."

Shonie slid onto the piano stool and placed her other hand gingerly on the keys. She began playing... a slow, simple melody... and at the sound of the music, her face broke into a smile. Dimples showed on her cheeks. Benjie toddled up to her and poked the lowest key on the piano, laughing. He wound up and prepared to slam his hand onto the keys, but at the sound of the  door opening, he turned to run in the other direction with a joyful cry.

"Daddy's home! Daddy, Daddy, me wuvs you!"

Shonie glanced up from the piano and her eyes lit up. A moment later and she was off in the direction Benjie had taken.

"Hey, Rachel?" Ronnie's voice echoed from the hall. "Oof... Li'l Squirt... here, c'mere buddy... Hi, Shonie, how's my girl? Rachel, have I got permission to bring an animal into the house?"

"Animal?" Rachel raised an eyebrow. "That depends. What is it... a cow, a pig, a horse?"

"Not quite," Ronnie laughed. 

"Ach, well... if it is not dirty, and if it will not get the baby sick, and if it is only temporarily in here," she laughed.

"I do believe it fits all those requirements. Here... c'mon, Li'l Squirt, let's go get the surprise. Shonie, this is for you too." 

"Ooh, s'prise?"Benjie cried happily. The next moment he was shrieking wildly. "AH! Doggy! C'mere, doggy, me wuvs you! Mommy! Doggy!"

"A dog, eh?" Rachel smiled and moved to scoop up her baby. "You had better go and see, Bekah."

"Doggy, Mommy, come see... Baby, see doggy!" Jamie raced into the living room to snatch Rachel's free hand and drag her after him. "Come, Becky, see doggy." 

"So... what brought this on?" Rachel raised her eyebrows at Ronnie. He stood in the doorway still, a squirming, yapping bundle of scruffy white fur in his arms. He grinned sheepishly at Rachel.

"Well... y'know... dogs are good for kids. And we got a lotta kids." Shonie was tugging on his arm and he knelt beside her to hand her the puppy. "Here, careful, he's wiggly..." he chuckled. "Wow, feisty little guy..." 

"Mmm..." Shonie smiled as she rested her cheek against the dog's fuzzy head. The little animal quieted down and nuzzled against her. 

"Awww, look at them," Rachel cried. "So sweet... aw, Ronnie... thank you."

"Well..." Ronnie shrugged. "He seemed like a nice dog. Terrier, I think. Westie, something like that."

"Mmm..." Shonie hugged the dog again and then, setting him on the ground, turned to throw her arms around Ronnie. He smiled up at Rachel over the little girl's head. 

"Gonna be a noisy summer," he laughed. "But it's gonna be a great one."