My Theater of Pain

Nocturnal vacations of the mind help bring an infamous actress needed relief.

A shaft of silver moonlight pierced the dark cell and split the room in two. Under it, a red headed murderess sat on her stainless steel throne, her favorite book in her lap. This was Eva’s favorite time of day. Death row, at Lights Out, took on a kind of peace not found anywhere else. It was a time for introspection, reminiscence, prayer and, for some, a time for dealing with the gravity of their situation. But they all enjoyed the intimacy and privacy night provided on the block.

Eva closed her eyes and left her cold post war cell. She drifted back in time to a place hidden from daylight. A place sound could not escape. It was just a fancy hole in the ground, really, but it afforded her a chance to do what no one else could do. It was her last act, on her last stage. She was the greatest actress of her generation and at only thirty three years old. A smile began forming on her pale face as the sights, sounds and smell came rushing into her thoughts again. They caused her cheeks to blush and her scalp to tingle. ‘Oh!’ she thought, as she remembered the lights bursting on, flooding the last set she would ever walk on, when the handle of the breaker box was shoved into the ON position. Eva’s eyes moved rapidly behind her lids. She was really there. Next came the butterflies in her stomach as she watched the expression on his ugly face at the moment he realized not all was right.

In August of 1932 Eva was approached by a famous Director while still in the hospital for a self inflicted gunshot wound to the chest. This Director pitched a part to her. He said that it would take the greatest actress in the world to pull off successfully and that it would have to be the last role she ever played. He told her that she could change the world. But a lot of time had past since then and the old Jew Director was now dead. She sometimes worried she had missed her cue at some point, thereby ruining the final act.

She had not.

Eva’s body reclined a bit. Her back now resting against the block wall behind her. The young lady’s head tilted back. She seemed to be smiling into the small shaft of light above her head. Eva’s eyes still moved rapidly behind her lids.

She was standing between him and the embalming table that was now warming under the bright overhead lamp. She stood there smiling at him. He only noticed the Luger in her right hand.

“What is this outrage, Eva?” the ugly man asked.

“Streifen.” she said quietly.

“Are you insa…” he didn’t finish because she shot him in his left shoulder.

The man clutched his arm and screamed. Eva watched in amusement and then said

“Take your clothes off, please.”

He disrobed slowly, sniveling and cursing her, accusing her of working for the Jews the whole time, but not once meeting her eyes. She only shrugged at this. The ugly man was on his knees covering his crotch with one hand in modesty and fear and holding his bleeding shoulder with the other.

“Now, get on the table.” she said evenly.

“Nein!” he screamed into the cold cement floor.

Eva walked over and grabbed a hand full of greasy dyed hair with her left hand. She forced his head back to look at her. As soon as their eyes met she brought her right hand down, hammering his forehead twice with the butt of her Luger. Blood exploded from the gash created above his brow.

Eva could barely feel her legs now. They were going numb from sitting there so long, but the performance that played out in the young woman’s head made her dismiss any discomfort she might have. Her star was about to get brighter and she wouldn’t miss out on that rush for anything. She saw his face again.

The blood was now drying on his ruined forehead but the heat from the lights cause sweat to form and mix with the blood. It beaded up and ran down into the corner of his eyes and then down the side of his head, via his crows feet. The high wattage bulbs that lit her current stage also served nicely as a space heater on a cold Spring morning in the underground bunker. She watched his face as he regained consciousness. His expression was at first, one of pain but then confusion as he took in his surroundings. He then realized his hands, feet and head were secured with leather straps to the embalming table in the middle of the room. Eva had been in the shadows just out of his limited view.

“Eva!” he yelled.

“Eva, warum tust du das?!” he cried out. (Eva, why are you doing this?)

It was at this point Eva had gone off script. Actually, there was no table in the script either, embalming type or otherwise. She felt that this is what separated her from the other actresses. Why the Director chose her. Eva was good at improvisation. She took the part to a new and invigorating place. She knew the old Jew would approve. Her star was getting brighter.

Eva pushed a surgical cart into his view, still keeping herself hidden for the moment. She wanted this to last. The man looked over at the cart. It was covered with a turquoise surgical cloth and topped with chromium tools that looked like they had come from Dr. Mengele’s personal bag. After awhile she heard him cry, softly at first but then gaining in volume as he gained in terror. It was time she stepped into the light.

The ugly man saw his bride, nude, except for the long black rubber apron. Her hair was tucked under a black rubber cap and her face was covered with a white surgical mask.

"Willkommen," she said "Herr Hitler, zu meinem Schauplatz des Schmerzes. (“Welcome” she said, “Herr Hitler, to my theater of pain.”)

His screams echoed off the grey cement walls of his private bunker for an hour until his vocal cords split and his lungs ruptured. He was mostly in pieces by the time the Russians broke the door down the next day and dragged an exhausted Eva out into a cool Berlin April.

With her nocturnal trip into the past complete, she felt a great release. Eva Braun ripped another page out of her signed First Edition copy of Mein Kampf, wiped herself clean and then went to bed.