Amir continued digging for what seemed like endless hours, though he knew that it had been a few mere minutes. That was the thing he hated most about the endless labour; time seemed to go by so slowly. His eyes drifted towards the two soldiers standing, watching as everyone worked. He wondered what made them hate Jews so much. Of course, Amir knew that Jews were never the most liked people in the world, but this was a new level. Though, not everyone in the camp was Jewish; the Germans simply threw anyone in that they deemed weak or unworthy, or something like that. He bit his lip, still feeling anger towards them. When he had first been brought here, Amir had been defiant, angry, and sometimes vicious. That was taken away quickly of course--within the first week--but Amir could still remember everything he had felt. What had they done? Wasn't it the rest of the world who was being cruel, and unfair. They were being punished for nothing. Being pulled from their home, told to pack up everything they needed, being forced onto a train, and then being told that they wouldn't need any of their possessions. Then being forced to work, doing things for no reason other than the Germans wanting them to do so. Barely given enough food and water, living in bad conditions. They were being treated as nothing more than slaves, worse even.

He shook his head, gripping his shovel slightly tighter as he dug. He felt like laughing at his own thoughts. What was the point of thinking such things anymore? He was here, and there was no changing that. Soon enough he'd either catch some sort of disease and die, or the soldiers would kill him themselves. As much as he'd like to get away, and go back to his home, he knew that wouldn't be possible. Walking through the quiet streets, into his cozy home with everyone in his family, Amir knew that wouldn't be possible to do again. He wasn't even sure if his home was still there. He glanced around again, watching some of the other prisoners work for a moment. There were still a few people left who had hope, who had the courage to keep going, who thought that there was no way that they wouldn't go home. Amir always felt bad for those ones. When he had first arrived, after he had gotten over his defiant stage, he had ended up befriending a person or two. They always were full of hope, and filling others with hope. They didn't last long though, within a month, they simply disappeared. That was probably when Amir had figured out that not even the most hopeful, strongest people could survive.

"It's weird," he muttered so low only he could hear himself, "It seems that everyone is broken, myself included."

He had been such a happy person before, and now he was nothing. That was the main reason he still felt such hatred towards every soldier who was helping; they broke people.

Before Amir was able think anything more, his attention was caught by a someone crying out, and a thump. He brought his eyes towards the person standing beside him. The boy--someone who could be no older than fourteen, maybe even fifteen--had fallen over, seeming as though he tripped over a chunk of the dirt. He looked up at the soldiers quickly, wondering if they were the type that would get angry over something like this. There were some that didn't care, and some that would take any opportunity to get angry at the prisoners. Amir was never sure how a soldier was going to react. Nonetheless, he dropped his shovel, and grabbed the boy by the wrist, pulling him up.

"Gotta be careful kid, you know," he spoke with a stern voice, one that he used to use on his own younger brother, "You never know if they'll get angry at you for stuff like that. If it hurts, just ignore it for now, and continue on."

Amir knew that perhaps helping others wasn't always a good thing--in fact, he had seen many get in "trouble" because of their need to help--but he couldn't stand not helping. Especially when the boy reminded him of his own brother. He eyed the boy carefully, watching as he picked up the shovel and began digging again, obviously trying to fight off pain that was shooting through his ankle. He probably twisted it, something that would wear off quickly enough. Satisfied, Amir picked up his own shovel, not bothering to look over at the two soldiers standing guard. He wasn't sure if they saw or not, but in all honesty, he hoped they didn't. He'd rather they stayed where they were, rather than coming over and deciding to get "angry" at either him or the boy.