“He saved you,” I whimper.
“And sacrificed everything else.” Stefan’s fingers twist in the lapel of my coat. “Because I’m the defective one in my family and I’m nothing but a risk—an ill, worthless risk. The Nazis would kill me if they knew what’s wrong with me.”
“Stop it!” I pull away from his hold, staring up at him with sternness and gritted teeth as fury laces my tears. “Your family loves you more than anything in the world. Your father looked right at me as I stood back in the woods. He made it clear thathe chose this. To protect you. Just like a father should do for his son.”
“I know,” Stefan croaks. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean what I said.” Tears carve pale tracks down his red cheeks as he collapses against me, his forehead pressing into my shoulder.
The sound of an engine rumbling from down the hill turns my blood into ice.
They must be coming for us next.
TWENTY-FIVE
STEFAN
BIRKENAU (AUSCHWITZ II)
Present Day: April 11, 1944
The straw mattress scratches through the thin fabric shirt they left me in. It reeks of musk and sweat. I want to turn onto my side but can’t. There’s no room. And the barrack walls spin around me like a never-ending carousel. My head is heavier than a boulder and my limbs don’t work, but also move without my control. I stare toward the hanging lightbulb as it dangles back and forth. There’s no wind and no reason for movement. Like my limbs. No reason.
Someone coughs, maybe nearby, or across the barrack. Could be a million columns away. But I hear it. It’s wet and rattles like a bottle of pills. It’s the same cough that came from the doctor before saying, “Tonight, you’ll stay awake. Tomorrow night too.”
“Him,” someone says. “Bring him to the exam room.”
My eyelids twitch as masculine fingers jab toward me. At least I can close them. Unlike before when they taped them wide open. As far as they could go. Pulled until lashes tore and skinsplit. Even now, with the tape gone, I feel the pluck and sting every time I blink.
A man yanks my arm out from beneath and pulls it over my head until I’m forced to flip onto my stomach. My chin hits the wood of the bunk frame, my neck cranes back. I can see the dangling lightbulb and its dirty fraying cord.
A needle prods the thin skin of my forearm. Then a slow suction of more blood, stripping drop by drop from my veins until my body drains.
The ceiling creaks. Damp wooden beams with cross hatched supports. Like a stable or barn. This was probably a stable once.
A barn. Barns were for privacy.
Love making. Passion.
I can hear her voice in that barn. “I love you,” she says, stroking her thumb along my cheek. “So much. No one can take that away from us. No matter how much they try.” Her cheeks are pink, lips pale from kissing me so hard. The sound is so close, so real. That barn. Our spot.
I clench my fist around the blanket to cover us—me.
Just me.
The thin, coarse blanket rubs against my knuckles. It burns. The man who jabbed me with a needle scoops me up as if I’m a bag of sand and drapes me over his shoulder. Must be a big shoulder. My legs and arms hang, wavering like the lightbulb until he dumps me onto a metal table. The staff or nurses, whoever keeps this place running, keep bringing me back to this cold metal table.
Last time I was on it, the doctor said,“Sit very still as we attach these electrodes on your scalp. The forced stimulus and inter cranial pressure might just give us the answers we need.” A switch clicks and my body convulses, shaking my brain around like a rattle. I can’t breathe. I can’t feel my pulse. Please stop!
No more zaps. No more. No.
“No,” the word utters from my dry throat. No sound, just air, but something. The light changes, blinding me from the memory.
A blur of a white lab coat floats toward me, the doctor’s black hair stark in contrast.
“What are you already saying no to?” A monotone chuckle titters around me—the unamused person, unfazed from my breath of a statement, is somewhere to my right. Out of sight.
“You’re still shaky I see. Well, we just have one more test to run today. Then, you’re done.” It’s the doctor again. “Sample the spinal fluid first.”
Done. The end? No more. I can’t be done. I can’t go anywhere or nowhere. I need to stay here until she comes back. She needs to know where to find me. I’m supposed to protect her. I can’t if she can’t find me.
