“Why are you thin?” Iretorted.
“Amelia, I need for you toeat.”
“Are you starving yourself to feed me?” I askedhim.
Charlie placed his hands around my arms and squeezed gently. “I want you toeat.”
“I haven't said a word to you in two months. Why do you care about what I eat?” The sound of footsteps followed my last word, and my heart froze in place as my arms and legs became cold and numb with fear. Charlie's hand pressed against my collarbone, shoving me against the wet rock wall of the nook. His body pressed against mine, and I felt his heart beating into my heart as his arms boxed me in. Charlie’s head slid to the side of mine until it touched the wall. As his warm breaths covered my neck, I squeezed my eyes shut to hide from all othersensations.
The gravel beneath a pair of boots crunched towards us at a steady pace, and I thought if tried to ignore it, I could block out the fear I felt. However, I was so scared that I was sure our heartbeats could be heard by anyone passing through that smallspace.
I just needed to focus on something else and forget the rest. It was my onlychoice.
The warmth of Charlie's body against mine was something I hadn’t felt since arriving. It was like a wool blanket and a roaring fire enveloping me in its heat. He was comforting, but if we were to be found, it was likely we would both beexecuted.
Minutes passed by, and the sound of footsteps finally faded. The soldier was gone. It felt like a small cause for celebration that he didn’t find us, but Charlie didn’t move. “I have been alone for so long, feeling like a prisoner of this war. Though I haven't been physically tortured like you, I’m here against my will.” Charlie told me the same explanation each day, and I couldn't understand why, but I assumed it was to offer himself hope that I would eventually believe him. It wasn't that I didn't believe him, it was that we were two different types of prisoners, and at the end of the day, my life was at risk, and his wasn’t, as long as he acted appropriately. I was his prisoner, even ifhewas someoneelse's.
“Please, believe me,Amelia.”
“I believe you, Charlie.” It was the first time I admitted to any form of trust with him. “However, it doesn’t change the fact that we are not thesame.”
“You’re right,” he said. “You are a much better person than Iam.”
“You don’t know that,” I said. In truth, he didn't know much about me atall.
“It’s in your eyes,” he continued. “You can tell if a person is good or bad by peering into theireyes.”
“How?” The heat of his body was still moving through me, removing the permanent shiver and ache I had from fighting against the cold. It felt like the winter mornings when I would wake up wrapped tightly in my bed’s thick linens at home. It was always hard to climb out of bed those mornings, knowing the cold floors were waiting for me, as well as the drafts that whistled in through our old windows, but I would have done anything to touch those cold floors or hear the melodic sounds of the wind filtering through cracks at thatmoment.
“When a person can look another directly in the eyes, it shows compassion, understanding, and honesty,” he explained. Charlie had always looked me in the eyes when speaking. Considering he had done almost all the speaking for both of us in the previous months, it felt like an odd characterization. However, Mama and Papa had raised me with respectable standards. They taught me to always do the right thing and help people when I was able to. I couldn't understand how he would know that about me by just looking into my eyes. “What should I see in your eyes? Have you hurt anyone?” Iasked.
“No,” he responded without hesitance. “I'm a guard.” His eyes widened as they focused on mine. It was so dark there, but my vision adjusted enough to see the look on hisface.
“Am I going to be killed?” I asked him. It was a question that had been running through my head each moment of every day. Was everything for nothing? Was I just waiting for my number to beup?
“I can't answer that truthfully,” hesaid.
“I was afraid you would say that,” Ireplied.
“I was afraid you wouldask.”
Feeling as though my breath had been stolen from my lungs, I knew I had to return to the line so I could finish taking down the remaining patient information. I had hoped to finish a little early that day so I could tend to Papa. “I need to get back to the line waiting at the sick bay,” I told him, needing to digest the reality I had been desperately avoiding. I placed the chicken leg inside my coat pocket and then placed the roll carefully on top of it. “Thank you for thefood.”
“Thank you for listening to me,” he said. Charlie took a step or two back, allowing a cool draft of air to fill the space we were in. He locked his hand around my elbow and guided me out from under the tunnel and back toward the line. Two other soldiers were heading toward us, looking between Charlie and me, and a sick feeling gnawed at my stomach. Charlie’s hand unsurprisingly tightened as he jerked me forward forshow.
One of the Nazi’s elbowed the other as they erupted into laughter before puckering their lips with a clear innuendo. Charlie ignored them and tugged me harder, forcing me to walk up the hill faster than my legs could handle. When we reached the line, he tossed me into a few of the sick people. “Watch yourself,” he shouted at me before walkingaway.
A woman in the line grabbed my arm and righted me on my feet. “Are you okay?” she asked withconcern.
“I'm fine,” I answered, feeling guilt coursing through my veins. “Did he hurtyou?”
“No,” I replied, fearful to say anythingelse.
The woman placed her hand on my back and rubbed gently for a moment before I took the clipboard I had dropped when Charlie grabbedme.
I had to make my way up the line to find where I left off, which wasn't easy, seeing how similar everyone had begun toappear.
My mind was in a fog for the remainder of the day. I found it hard to focus on the words I was writing and the accuracy of it all. I had yet to make a mistake, and I was terrified of what would happen if Idid.
