Because every option I had was wrong.
Take her to the Jugendamt—youth care?
They would scoop her up like lost luggage and send her to one of those giant children's homes, where three kids shared a bed, and no one remembered your name. She'd disappear into the system, swallowed whole. Maybe sent to the countryside. Maybe not sent anywhere at all. Just… stuck.
A hospital?
We couldn't pay. And even if they treated her, they'd report her immediately. No papers. No parents. Gone.
The church orphanage down the street?
Overcrowded, strict, cold. I'd seen the line of thin faces staring out the windows like ghosts. Hilde would wither there. Her spirit would crumble.
A black-market doctor?
Maybe.
But where would I find one? And how could I trust someone whose hands traded in desperation? None of the paths were safe for her. None led anywhere but to a terrible outcome. This had been my worst nightmare for Klaus, and now for Axel too. This girl was a stranger tome, but she was just a kid and already pulling on all my heartstrings and protective instincts.
And God help me… I couldn't choose any of those options for her. Not for this tiny, trembling scrap of a girl who already looked like life had eaten half of her. I held her a little closer. Her small fingers clutched my blouse as if she'd been waiting her whole life for someone to hold on to.
Axel looked up at me, waiting for a miracle I didn't have. Hopelessness hit me like a punch to the lungs. I could barely keep Klaus and Axel fed. Barely keep a roof over our heads—if it even counted as a roof. Barely keep myself sane.
How was I supposed to take on another child? How was anyone supposed to? But then Hilde whimpered softly against my neck. And suddenly the answer didn't matter. Because the world had failed her. I just couldn't be the next person to do that.
I swallowed hard. "We take care of her," I said.
My voice didn't shake, but my heart did.
Axel's eyes went wide.
"Us?" he breathed.
"Yes, us," I whispered. "Just like we take care of each other."
He nodded, a little proud, a little scared. I sat Hilde on the mattress, smoothing her hair back gently. Not for thefirst time since Gideon had vanished into the sky for three long days, I wished he were here, but this time, it had nothing to do with girlish dreams. And not because he could rescue me, either, but because I didn't know what to do. And because some foolish, dangerous part of my heart believed he would.
Klaus came skidding back through the rubble, cheeks flushed, panting hard. "Elke says she will take your shift!" he announced triumphantly. "She said she wants the extra cigarettes anyway."
Relief washed through me so fast it nearly knocked me over. Bless Elke.
Bless her shameless hustle and soft heart underneath it all.
Hilde whimpered then, a small, thin sound that made every hair on my arms stand up. I pressed my cheek to her tangled hair. "It's alright," I whispered. "I know it hurts. I know."
Klaus dug frantically through the little box where we kept our precious stash, things Gideon had brought on nights before. He pulled out crackers, half a chocolate bar, and a tiny tin of something that might have been Spam.
He opened a packet of those dry American crackers, broke one in half, and set it in Hilde's good hand as if it were sacred.
She sniffed it, unsure, like a frightened animal, then nibbled. I didn't breathe until she took the first bite and then ate like she hadn't eaten in days.
Maybe she hadn't.
I wiped her face with a damp cloth. The dirt lifted away to reveal a child underneath, and a bruise on her cheek I hadn't seen yet. My throat tightened.
"Axel," I murmured, "heat some water."
He did, with a seriousness unusual for him, feeding scraps of wood and paper into the little tin stove. I washed Hilde carefully, murmuring to her, trying to keep her calm. She flinched each time I came near her broken arm.
