Page 483 - The Book Thief

When she ignored him completely, the soldier used his arm to separate the
stickiness of people. He shoved them aside and made his way through. He
loomed above her as Liesel struggled on and noticed the strangled expression on
Max Vandenburgs face. She had seen him afraid, but never like this.

The soldier took her.

His hands manhandled her clothes.

She could feel the bones in his fingers and the ball of each knuckle. They tore at
her skin. I said get out! he ordered her, and now he dragged the girl to the side
and flung her into the wall of onlooking Germans. It was getting warmer. The
sun burned her face. The girl had landed sprawling with pain, but now she stood
again. She recovered and waited. She reentered.

This time, Liesel made her way through from the back.

Ahead, she could just see the distinct twigs of hair and walked again toward
them.

This time, she did not reach outshe stopped. Somewhere inside her were the
souls of words. They climbed out and stood beside her.

Max, she said. He turned and briefly closed his eyes as the girl continued. There
was once a strange, small man, she said. Her arms were loose but her hands were
fists at her side. But there was a word shaker, too.

One of the Jews on his way to Dachau had stopped walking now.

He stood absolutely still as the others swerved morosely around him, leaving
him completely alone. His eyes staggered, and it was so simple. The words were
given across from the girl to the Jew. They climbed on to him.

The next time she spoke, the questions stumbled from her mouth. Hot tears
fought for room in her eyes as she would not let them out. Better to stand
resolute and proud. Let the words do all of it. Is it really you? the young man
asked, she said. Is it from your cheek that I took the seed?