Josef Mengele-Personal Narrative

Sunlight seeped through the window onto my old worn out chair. I had fallen asleep there from the night before, drifting away in my thoughts about all I had done when I was young. I was so proud and satisfied with what I had accomplished, and even though most of the world looked at me as a monster, I couldn't be more proud about who I was. I had escaped from my worst nightmare, and ended up in an old dilapidated apartment in southern Argentina. My name, Josef Mengele, was on countless kill lists, and my head was worth thousands if it was brought back, but in my opinion I had made that task impossible.
Steam slowly rose from my cup of coffee when there was a knock on the door. I was not expecting anyone to come over, my rent was paid, and there …show more content…
My heart felt as if it were going to beat out of my chest, I could hear the officer's voice yelling two behind my door. My hands trembled as I ripped open the window and kicked out the screen. The officer's voice yelled three as I slipped out the window down into the fire escape. The old rusty metal creaked as if I was going to collapse under my weight, and as I ran the sound of breaking wood filled my ears. It was only a matter of seconds until an agent was racing down the fire escape right after me. As soon as I hit the ground I was running, I knew this city like the back of my hand, and I was going to use that to my advantage to get out alive. My shoulder brushed passed a crumbling brick building, into a secret alleyway. When I completed the turn, there was multiple police officers all standing at gunpoint. I stopped in my tracks, I was like a dog with my tail in between my …show more content…
It took countless years of hard work and dedication to my schoolwork to fulfill my expectation. But I knew that it was all worth it when I began my medical studies about twins and their genetics. Twins consumed my mind, everything about their physical appearance down to their genetic makeup always had me thinking. I was always trying to change their outcome, and was always trying to learn if sociologically they could feel the same thing. If I cut one twin's arm off would the other one feel the pain? The possibilities seemed to be endless, and when I stepped foot into Auschwitz there was no limit to what I could