I stare back at him, trying to keep my fear masked. My gaze flickers to Ella. She’s watching this confrontation; her eyes wide, filled with worry. I swallow hard and return my focus to the officer breathing down my neck, wondering if he’s waiting for me to respond to his statement or expecting me to simply listen.
“It’s just a chest cold,” I say before clearing the phlegm from my throat, making a show of proving my point.
The officer leans to the side of my face, the hot air from his breath fogging over my ear. “You know what will happen if you’re no longer useful to us?” he hisses spitefully.
I nod, still unable to swallow against the back of my tongue. I need water. I might as well be swallowing sand with how dehydrated I am. “Yes, bu-but?—”
“The stupidity with you people runs strong, doesn’t it? Surely you weren’t going to question me?” The officer winds up his arm and thrashes his fist into my left eye, knocking me backward right off my feet. My stomach sinks in between my rib cage and sharp pains ache through my head. I try to open my eyes, but find only black spots floating above me, and a ringing in my ear. “You better find a way to strengthen your voice before tomorrow night, or you’ll soon run out of nights altogether.”
It isn’t the first time I’ve been beaten for singing the wrong words, whether forgotten, misread, or simply exhaustion getting the best of me. There isn’t an allowance for mistakes. A consequence always follows. I’m not sure how manyconsequences I can survive, or how many they’ll deliver before I’m sent away for good. At least tonight, I know my altered lyrics were no mistake.
THIRTY-SIX
ELLA
September 1943
My vision blurs as I walk back to the barrack from roll call, imagining Luka’s face contorting in pain after an officer blasted him with his fist. I had to bite back a cry as I watched Luka fall to the ground. The images are burnt into my mind, haunting me at night as I condemn myself for not doing something more than just watch it happen, even though I know I would have gotten us both killed if I had reacted. Luka didn’t do anything to deserve the beating. His voice was strained, hoarse, and it’s clear he’s sick or his vocal cords are injured. Before the officer stood up from his seat to charge toward him, Luka was holding his hand around his throat. He hardly sounded the way I remember, but regardless, it was still him.
The threat the officer made to him to fix his voice or “you’ll soon run out of nights,” sits inside of me like a pinched grenade—one I’m losing a grip on.
I drag myself up the flight of stairs to the second level and then hoist myself into my bunk, leaning my body to the right side of the straw mattress while unrolling my sleeve cuff to retrieve ahandful of strawberry candy suckers I managed to steal from the door-guard’s unlocked and unattended closet at noon today. If I could thank Tatiana for sharing her secret with me, I would, but I might never get that chance now. The kapos don’t even call her number out at roll call. She’s simply not here anymore and it’s killing me to be reminded of this fact every single day.
I hide the candies under the corner of my mattress, along with a third of my dinner ration to add to the others I’ve been saving for the past week and a half. The bartering with Elsie is costing me—I’m growing weaker by the day. However, if it means helping Luka in any small way, I don’t care. I’ll do it for him. The candies will soothe his throat. He needs much more than this, but it’s something at the very least. I just need to make sure I can offer Elsie enough rations to ensure she gets Luka the candies before it’s too late.
I’m thankful to still hear his voice at night, despite the weak broken notes. At least I know he’s still alive for now.
Unlike Tatiana.
Everything that has happened to everyone I care about feels as though it’s my fault. I haven’t done enough.
I drag my limp body into a narrow spot on the second-level tier and squeeze in between two others who are already lying limply on top of the thin straw-filled mattress we share.
In my thin canvas blanket, I wrap myself up tightly, hoping that it will protect me from bedbugs and lice. Yet, I know the blanket has been exposed to whatever crawls around this room all day. I can only try to convince myself it’s clean and will keep me safe.
Now settled for the night, I wait for the second gong to rattle the walls and the sound of the light switch clinking, darkness taking over. The other prisoners do the same—we’re all mindless bodies moving in the same pattern flow, doing as we’re told. We’re all just waiting for the day to end.
Outside, the wind whistles, and then the rain ends, a hum of silent static filling the air.
My heart hammers in my chest as I lie motionless, confined to this one spot for the long hours of the night. But then—a sound breaks the silence.
I pull in a breath to silence my body, straining to catch every note until the song grows clearer, the gentle melody a caress against my fractured heart.
He’s still alive. That’s what matters. We’ve made it another night here.
Despite the torture we all face, Luka’s voice still somehow defies the despair surrounding us, carrying a sense of comfort and hope, even with the growing damage in his tone. It’s as if his life depends on each word…
The sky is dark and gray
but behind the clouds, it’s blue.
Lovely days will come
soon for me and you.
Keep me in your dreams,
and I’ll co?—
