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Description
Die Puppe
( the doll )

In his hands, Himmler held a doll.

One of Fegelein's men had found it during a raid. They had broken down the door and ran inside, only to find that the people they had been looking for had hurried out, leaving everything in a state of chaos and disarray. It had annoyed Himmler that they had figured out that they were coming after them and he had tried to hide his frustration from Fegelein... but, as always, he wore his emotions on his sleeve. Fegelein had merely smirked at him and thrown him the doll, which he caught with ease that surprised even himself. Now here he was, sitting in his office and holding the thing.

It was a simple wooden doll, meant for playing with during the day. Not the type of doll a young girl would use as a security blanket at all. Much too hard to curl up with at night, and far too many hard angles and rough edges to get hurt with if one wasn't careful. It certainly wasn't craftsman's work; the father must've made it himself out of a block of wood. Himmler had to smirk at the father thinking that he had any talent. The neck was far too thin, and Himmler wondered why it hadn't already broken yet.

No clothing made out of actual cloth, either. Just simply painted on. If a father really and truly loved his daughter, Himmler figured, he'd at least try and make her doll some clothes rather than just paint them on. He'd have gladly cut up parts of his trench coat for his own daughter if that's what she wanted for her dolls... but then again, her dolls were far more expensive and artfully crafted.

Its features were painted on, too. Two unevenly sized eyes and a thin swoop of a smile made out of black paint. He shook his head as he turned it around in his hands, examining its painted-on hair that should have been made out of actual hair. Maybe not hair from a person, but at the very least, horse's hair. Whoever had played God to this pathetic little thing deserved to die, Himmler thought. Only those who could create proper dolls should be allowed to do so – proper German doll makers.

His hand tightened around the doll until he heard the distinct crack of splintering wood.

His hand relaxed, and the doll's head fell off and onto the carpeted floor. He stared at it for a little before turning his attention back to the doll's body. It had cracked as well, straight down the middle, and he wondered if he really had put that much force on the doll. Ah well, Himmler thought, shoddy workmanship anyways. It was going to break no matter what I did with it.

With that, Himmler calmly picked up the doll's head off the floor and walked over to the lit fireplace. He tossed the doll in and watched as it smouldered and turned into ash.