Star Crossed Enemies

Chapter 6

Hazel wanted to put as much distance as she could between the Nazi and herself. The thought of his thundering voice and intense blue eyes made her shudder. She didn't want to go to see her parents, but she also didn't want to be in the same house with the beast she just saw. She pulled on her coat and took in deep breaths regaining her composure as she trudged through the freshly fallen snow.

"Hello Hazel," said Mrs. Rosenzweig with a smile as Hazel stepped through the front door.

Hazel nodded at her mother's kind eyes and sat down at the table. She kept her eyes downcast and as calm as possible as plates were passed around. She took her time eating and listened to the small talk conversations being discussed among everyone around the table. Hans took Marylin to the living room to play with her toys when they were excused after eating. Hazel knew it was a matter of time before Mark was brought up. 

"Is the Nazi still in your house?" asked Mr. Rosenzweig.

"Yes," responded Hazel keeping her eyes on her clenched hands in her lap.

"Why haven't you gotten rid of him?"

"He's still recovering. He can barely move."

"I don't care. He's a Nazi!"

"Papa, I'm nineteen and able to make my decisions."

Aunt Karoline grunted and said, "Doesn't seem like good ones."

"Hazel, I want him out," persisted Mr. Rosenzweig.

"When he gets better, I will get rid of him."

Hazel cringed at the words she just used. It was as if he was an unwanted kitten instead of a wounded man. Her father's sharp words snapped her back into reality. 

"Get rid of him now!"

"He's too weak."

"Get rid of him!"

"You listen to your father you silly child," barked Aunt Karoline.

"I'm not a child."

"You're acting like one, and your decisions are proving it."

"Karoline," scolded Mrs. Rosenzweig.

"What?"

"This is me and my husband's child, not yours."

Hazel looked at her mother and was pleased she made Aunt Karoline flustered.

"I think it's about time I go home," said Hazel, standing up.

"I'll walk you home," said Uncle Trevor.

Hazel followed Uncle Trevor to the front door as she put on her coat. As they stepped into the frigid air, Uncle Trevor quickly turned to Hazel as he shut the door behind them.

"Don't mind your father or my wife. They just want it their way."

Hazel was stunned. She was not expecting her uncle, as kind as he was, to take her side. 

"You don't think I'm doing something wrong?"

Trevor led her down the path to her cottage before answering. "I believe that it's a courageous thing you're doing. Just be careful."

Hazel nodded in understanding. She knew that all too well as her mind came back to the crushing hold Mark had on her wrist earlier. 

"When I was wounded, I recovered in the enemy's home," continued Uncle Trevor.

Hazel turned to her uncle with wide eyes.

"You never told me."

"It is something I struggle to talk about to this day. The war wasn't what this one is now to any extent. But I was grateful that they took me in when I was left for dead. I only hope this man feels the gratitude I did."

Hazel nodded, appreciating her uncle's confession. 

"It's too cold for me to stay out here, so go get warm," he chastised lightly as she hesitated at her front door.

She kissed Uncle Trevor's cheek and quickly did as she was told. Helen walked out of the kitchen with a warm cup of tea in her hands as Hazel walked in.

"How did it go?"

"Worse than ever. Aunt Karoline and Papa are treating me like a child."

"What about Uncle Trevor and your mom?"

"They're fine with it, as long as I am careful. How's Mark?"

"Hasn't made a sound."

Hazel walked into her room and found Mark sleeping again. She calmed her shaky breathing and grabbed the hairbrush in front of the mirror. She briskly brushed through her hair and moved to take off her heels. She cringed with the echoing thud of her shoe hitting the floor. Hazel turned around and saw Mark was awake and looking at the photos next to her. Her heart sunk as she quickly stuffed the framed pictures in the drawer. 

"Is something wrong?" asked Mark.

"You said you're going to report us and I don't want you to see the faces of the people I care for and report them too. Just report me, not anyone else."

Mark didn't say anything. For once, he was speechless.

"Do you want anything else to eat?" asked Hazel as she picked up the bowl and cup quickly. 

"No," he said, roughly turning his back to her.

Hazel nodded to herself and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"Hazel, we have more newspapers," called Helen.

Hazel ran to the living room and grabbed a bundled paper. She thanked George quietly to herself for doing what he did for her family by dropping off supplies and newspapers every week in the middle of the night. She always loved the surprise of opening the door to see what was hiding in the covered basket. She hastily opened the newspaper and started to squint in the dark reading the boldface type. 

Helen and Hazel continued to read the articles for the rest of the morning until the sun rose. Hazel always held a small glimmer of hope that one day the front page would say the war was over. And, with every newspaper, her heart seemed to break a little more with no sign of the hell she was living in would be ending. When Hazel finished reading the papers, she walked back to her room to check on Mark. He was wide awake, staring at the ceiling above him. He didn't bother to look at her as she came in. 

"I need to change your bandages," said Hazel. 

"What?"

"The bandages on your back and chest need to be changed. I changed them regularly after surgery, and it's time to do them again. Let me get some supplies."

Hazel walked to her closet and picked up the medical bag from the top shelf. She placed it on her dresser, pulling out dressings and tape. 

"Take your shirt off."

"They don't need to be changed."

Hazel turned to him and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Take off your shirt," repeated Hazel slowly.

Mark looked away from her and stared at the ceiling again.

"Sit up and take your shirt off."

Mark continued to ignore her. 

"Mark, if I have to, I will put you asleep and change your bandages again. You run the risk of infection if I don't do this."

Mark turned his head and looked at her. She could tell he was getting infuriated how ice cold his eyes were.

"Fine," he said roughly as he sat up,

"Now take off your shirt."

Mark hesitated before lifting his shirt off. Hazel picked up the bandages and placed them on the bed. She turned her attention to the dressing on his chest. 

"You're not touching me," he protested as she leaned over him. 

"What?"

"You're not putting your Jew hands all over me."

Hazel felt herself quiver slightly thinking how he suddenly grabbed her the day before. 

"Do you know how to do it?"

Mark huffed in frustration. She could see he was quickly trying to think of something to say. Hazel patiently waited until he finally shook his head.

"I put my hands on you when I pulled you from that street and when I did surgery on you. I don't think this would matter. I'm not a disease."

Hazel reached out with her hands to take off the bandage. Mark shoved them away. She looked up at him with fiery eyes and outstretched her hands again. He didn't protest this time. She gently pulled it off and examined the wound. It was healing beautifully. She wished the doctor could see her work knowing he would have been so proud.

Hazel placed the new gauze over the wound and taped it down. She was careful only to use her fingertips to avoid touching him as much as possible. Not only after what happened yesterday, but it seemed awkward to be feeling a man. She was only used to assisting the doctor with women, children, severely injured men that were already passed out, or someone needing immediate care. This scenario didn't fit any of that. In this moment of deep thought, she felt more like a little girl than a woman. 

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" she asked, looking up at him apprehensively. 

Mark shook his head and looked down at her hands that were still on him. She moved her hands away quickly feeling as if she was scalded by his gaze.

"Turn over on your stomach so I can change the bandages on your back."

He turned over without argument. Hazel examined them, finding they were healing just as well and worked quickly to change the dressings.

"I'm done now," said Hazel moving away from the bed.

Mark turned back over, shoving the brown shirt back over his torso.

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" exclaimed Hazel. 

Hazel spun around and opened her dresser drawer. She pulled out the military medallion that she found around his neck.

"Here," she said, holding out the necklace.

Mark's eyes widened. He snatched it from her hands and examined it carefully. He slowly turned his gaze on her. 

"This is my most prized possession, and you touched it!" 

His words were like venom. Hazel felt a little frightened as she saw his face turn into an evil twist of fury. 

"I didn't have a choice. I had to take it off, or blood would have been all over it during surgery."

"You touched it," he repeated.

Hazel turned away and threw the tape and extra bandages in the surgical bag. She flung the bag into her closet and slammed the door shut. 

"What's wrong with Jews?" asked Hazel. 

Mark hesitated to her satisfaction. She had about enough of his tantrums. 

"You made us lose World War I."

Hazel snorted, "Typical answer. What else is wrong with us?" 

"When Hitler says you're the type of people not to trust and should be wiped from this planet, that's a good enough reason," said Mark.

"How can you say that?!"

Mark thought for a moment. She could see he was in deep thought before she interrupted them with her own.

"Does a four-year-old child deserve to be shot in the head?" asked Hazel angrily.

Mark stayed silent.

"I think it would be good for you to get up and move around. You will heal faster. Then, in a few days, you can report me. The Jew that saved your life."

Hazel stared at his emotionless face before marching to the doorway. She stopped when she reached it and turned back around.

"Let me help you get up," she muttered as she walked over to the bed.

"No."

"The sooner you get up and moving, the sooner you can leave. Let me help you."

Mark sat up and swung his legs over the bed, ignoring Hazel's outstretched arms offering support. He stood up in irritation, causing his knees to buckle underneath him. Hazel threw herself forward, grabbing him around the ribcage. She looked up at his face as he panted in shock and exertion. She felt herself quivering underneath him, not from the weight but from fright. She was sure he could feel it too as he looked down at her doe-like eyes. 

Mark reached back and anchored his arm on the bed, pulling himself up. He towered over her, making her clench her dress with white knuckles. He brushed past her to the mirror keeping his eyes on everything else but her. He combed his fingers through his short golden hair and rubbed his prickled jaw that was shadowed by the growing beard. 

"Let me know if you need anything," Hazel whispered behind him as she turned to leave. 

Her heart drummed behind her ribcage as she swiftly reached the doorway. She was ready to bolt from fear and embarrassment.

"Hazel, wait."

Hazel stopped in mid-stride and turned back to face Mark who was still staring at his reflection.

"Do you have a shaver I can borrow?" 

Hazel nodded and left the room to retrieve the new shaver that came in. She walked past Helen and rummaged in the basket.

"What are you looking for?" asked Helen curiously.

"A shaver," responded Hazel as she pulled out the cardboard box.

"A shaver?"

"For Mark. He asked for one," said Hazel quietly.

Helen raised an eyebrow. Before she could say anything else, Hazel returned to the room with the razor box in hand.

"It's brand new."

Mark took the shaver from Hazel's outstretched hand and retreated to the bathroom. Hazel walked back to the living room to find Helen's face still full of disbelief. She adjusted herself on the chair, revealing Mark's Luger stuffed between the cushion and her leg. Hazel's mouth dropped open in surprise as she pointed at the gleaming metal.

"Oh, don't worry about this. I know how to use a gun. We have to protect ourselves more than ever with a Nazi living under our own roof! Or did you forget he was one of them?"

Hazel wordlessly sat down. She was all too aware he was a Nazi. He frightened every fiber of her being even when she matched his fury with her own. She silently stared at the book in her hands, trying to drown her mind from that thought to no avail. After staring at the same page for half an hour, she tossed the book on the cushion next to her.

"Hazel, it's about time for you to go to your parents' house," said Helen.

"Please tell them I'm ill. I just can't do it today. They will believe you."

Helen looked up from her book and raised an eyebrow. 

"Please," begged Hazel.

"Fine!" said Helen as she worked to dislodge herself from the sinking chair. 

Hazel sighed a breath of relief. She watched Helen waddle through the front door before picking up her book again. She tried to clear her mind and escape in the pages before her.