That mustache. The hair. The pose. Burned in my memory. Burned in my soul. At night he comes in my sleep. Reaching out with his cold hands. His heartless body lurching towards me. The stench of burning flesh dizzies me and blinds me. He gets a hold of my arm, pulls me in for the kill. His hands smell of murder. Even if I tried running, he would find me. I give up, too weak from months of starving and torture. This is the last day. The last day of pain. The last day of nightmare...

Sweat drips down my face, as I awake from the nightmare. I lay in the hospital bed with ribs still broken from months ago, a patched eye, and a crippled leg. Every night the nightmare haunts me. It isn’t my fault who I am, who my parents are, or who the millions of dead were. But to one man it was too easy to damage the lives of all of us.

That hellish day I set off to the pit of fire in the middle of courtyard. No breakfast was announced and I weakly trudged along with dozens of others. It seemed like a “regular” day but from the corner of my eye I spotted the disgusting image of a man whom millions will hate as much as I did. I couldn’t help but stare. He wasn’t supposed to be there. It was like an illusion brought forth by my overworked and overtired imagination. Then I realized he was real, and he was the cause of my parents death, my siblings passing, and my loved ones misery. I took a step back in terror. As I did so I dropped the motionless baby who had starved to death only hours ago. A dead child wasn’t out of the ordinary, but a weakling staring at him was. He was outraged by my laziness. His stern, evil voice resonates still in my memory. “um Schweine zu arbeiten!” I couldn’t. “I said to work swine!” The next ten seconds are a nightmarish blur. In an instant he had a hold of my arm. I saw his evil eyes penetrate my soul, as it all went black.

I had woken up in a hospital 6 month ago. He had been there, and no one knows why. I was saved by a miracle. The survivors of hell told me the story. As I fell unconscious, tanks started breaking into the camp. He was gone though. The brave and heroic men had come out of the tanks and frozen at the sight of translucent ghosts weakly cheering their arrival. The men turned white from the terror they encountered. They did their best to take all 2,000 of the prisoners, women, men, and children back to civilization. That was a day with both unbelievable terror and incomprehensible joy. That was the day I met him, and escaped him, he was Hitler.