Hali? I glance around making sure no one else is around before limping toward Flora’s bedroom and poking my head inside.
She’s still here. Or am I imagining this?
“Hali?” I call out in a whisper.
I watch her playing with a stuffed bear, moving it from side to side as Flora rocks back and forth between her knees and hands. But she doesn’t turn toward the door—toward me. I don’t know if my voice came out at all…
FORTY
HALINA
It’s been two weeks since I heard Gavriel’s voice, but it drifts through my mind like a feather dancing along a breeze. I hear him when I’m falling asleep at night and sometimes right when I wake up, and I’m with him in my dreams most nights too. Except, I always wake up to the painful reminder that a dream is just an illusion devised by the hungers of my heart and mind. I’ve never thought about anyone so much, so distractingly, so frantically in my life. I’ve known nothing other than learning to live without love, but that was before I knew what it felt like.
Flora’s resting on her tummy in the center of her room, reaching toward me with a groan. “Come on, sweet girl, come get the teddy bear,” I coo at her, bouncing the bear next to me, encouraging her to push herself up on her knees to crawl again. But she’s staring at the doorway, a small droplet of drool forming on her bottom lip, her eyes wide, and a gleeful sound of what sounds like a “hi” from her sudden interest in trying out words.
I sling my focus toward the bedroom door, and an icy chill trickles down my spine. Are my eyes deceiving me? I push myself up from my twisted posture, needing to move in closer, to see if this is real. Ifhe’sreal.
I’ve been hearing his voice. I could be seeing things now too.
But this sight, it’s too hard to imagine. It’s heartbreaking.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from reacting.
“Gav…” I utter, his name a question in my throat.
What did they do to him? It’s as if they just wanted to keep him alive but with only a few last ragged breaths to sustain him. The sight of him holds me hostage. Every fiber of muscle and fat has depleted, leaving his skin draping over his bones. He clenches his hands by his side, a tremble quaking through both fists. A dirt covered bandage is still wrapped around his hand, almost as if it’s part of his skin now. His shirt clings to his hollowed chest, his cheeks cave inward, and he’s covered in dirt, only the mere whites of his eyes being the source of light coming from his body. He tries to stand up straight but grabs a hold of the wall.
I don’t want him to see what I’m thinking, the shred of my heart tearing deeper into my core. He needs strength from me, not sorrow. I can hardly take in a full breath as my lungs constrict. The last time I saw him, he was tired and hungry, but he was whole—he was all right. His hand was wounded, but he was fighting through this battle like a warrior. This isn’t the same man.
I push myself up, my legs unsteady, numb as I move toward him. “My God,” I utter, gently pulling him into the room—to me, feeling the heaviness of his frail body. I wrap my arms around him, holding him so tightly, I’m not sure either of us can breathe. “I thought—I was sure you—” I gasp for air, the relief and pain swelling into one overwhelming sensation.
“I know,” he replies. “I’m still alive, somehow, and—” he takes a few short breaths. “I didn’t think you’d still be here. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“What happened?” It’s a short question with an answer I might not be prepared to handle.
His eyelids blink so slowly, I’m not sure he has the energy to explain. “They—uh—they put me in a cell, underground, with nothing, not a place to move, or sit. It happened after Adam was shot, after we arrived back at the camp.”
“Adam,” I say, realizing it was him. He was shot. I heard his death.
My stomach aches and my knees strain against my weight, trying to offer support. For Adam. For him.
He closes his eyes and keeps them closed for a long moment as if he’s trying to recall memories. “I was interrogated about Adam and the other prisoners who work in the Schäfer house, then forced to agree to things that didn’t actually happen. They told me I was a traitor, but I wasn’t. I don’t think. I don’t understand what that means. I’m a Jew. How can I be a traitor?”
His words are slurring and I’m not sure he’s going to be able to stay on his feet much longer. I’m not sure how he even made it here like this. “All right, hush,” I tell him, brushing my fingers across his stubbled cheek. “You’ve been through too much. It’s too much.”
It’s too much. I feel sick. I might get sick.
I reach for breaths that have escaped me, trying to anchor myself in this moment, remember what I’m doing, who I am, and why I’m here.
Flora.
I check on her, finding she’s sitting upright, holding the teddy bear, staring at us. “Can I help you up the stairs?”
“No. I—I’ll get up there,” he says, his words saying one thing and his body saying another.
“Well, I’ll—I’m going to find food and wet rags.”
Gavriel nods his head weakly. “You can’t steal anything from the house. They’ll kill us like they did Adam, and I don’t think he even took anything.”
