It’s precisely what he wants.
A thin smile unfurls across his lips, cutting beneath the dark slash of his narrow mustache. The cunning sight cracks something within me. My heart thunders as sweat forms along the nape of my neck.
A wretched sound—a screaming caw of an enraged crow—the hymn of murder.
It came from me.
I lunge toward Weyman, thrashing my fists into his chest and chin, his medals slicing my knuckles, buttons clattering against bone.
“I didn’t kill him. I haven’t hurt a soul.” I’ve saved as many people here as I could, sparing them death during selections. I had to save thembecauseof him, and all the other members of the Reich.
Weyman wraps his arms around me tightly, keeping me from moving a muscle. “I understand everything you’re feeling. You’ve had no choice—like me. We see life the same—just two lost souls, forced to follow orders. The war will end soon, and wecan go on to live a decent life together. I’ll provide for you like…he…couldn’t. This is for the best and you’ll thank me someday. I promise you that.” His grip shifts to my arms, shoving me back just enough for him to lower his head—his mouth a blink from mine.
I wrench free, his nails dragging across my hands. “You…you tried to kill him. You’ve killed countless innocent people trapped in this death pit you call Auschwitz. And you did so without a single muscle twitch.”
“Oh, Rosalie, you’re making me sound like the villain here. But you see…I’m not,” he says, his voice calm, agile, and utterly crazed.
“No. You won’t convince me or anyone of your sainthood. You’ve put a claim on me as if I belong to you—as if I agreed to be by your side. I should be mad enough to believe the words you speak? Never. All you’ve ever done is make me your prey—someone you torment to match the pain you carry because Lotte betrayed you. I’m not yours and never will be.”
“I can give you whatever you wish for in life. You’d be foolish to deny such an offer.”
He’s foolish to believe he has a future at all.
“You’re nothing but a coward hiding behind a uniform—one that labels you a murderer. A torturer. A man who laughs at the weak and savors every moment good people suffer. Anyone can kill another being. It doesn’t make you strong, fit, or better than the rest. It makes you worthless—it makes everything you’ve ever accomplished in your sad, pathetic life, simply…worthless.”
Weyman clasps his hands, thumbs twirling. “Like I said, you held the pencil. You changed his fate. You chose death.” His smile twists, astute and wry.
I shake my head. “I love him.Itried to save him.”
“There’s no such thing as love in Auschwitz. All it did was get him killed.”
I steady my shivering hands at my side, fighting to compose myself. “No. It was you.” I swallow the acidic burn in my throat. “You must think you hold all the power because it looked like I followed your every command.” I shake my head, jaw locked. “Just like your wife. You thought she’d stay loyal to you simply because she made you a promise. But you never had her loyalty. And you never had power over me. Every thought you feed yourself is more delusional than the last.”
“Delusion,” he says with abrupt laughter. “You should be familiar with that frame of mind. If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead too. Ash like all the others. But I kept you alive…therefore, you should be in debt to me.”
“Who will thank you once you can’t hide behind your uniform? Who will stand with you when this is over? Who will tell you you’re going to be all right when you wake up from a vivid dream of people crying out for help, reaching for you with their bare hands, pleading for mercy as gas slowly suffocates them. They’ll be staring at you long after they’ve died, wondering how someone could be so inhumane. A child who hasn’t had a chance to live. A little girl, Hilde’s age, coughing from the gas as it steals her last breath. That’s all you’ll see whenever you close your eyes. And God will make sure you endure many, many more nights of sleep before he takes you out of your misery.”
Silence. A cold stare. A nail to his head. Bile brews in my stomach ready to burst through, but I can’t falter. I can’t stand down. There’s nothing left to do but stare evil in the eye and wait.
Wait for him to retaliate.
Kill me.
Spit on me.
Throw more work at me.
I won’t do another thing.
“Get out of my office. Remove yourself from this region. Don’t let me ever catch sight of you again.” He’s not liberating me. He’s disposing of me. Still, something within his expression comes apart. His eyes soften, just slightly. Just enough to fray a thread. I shake my head. “Not until you tell me where Block Twenty-One was sent.”
“They’re all dead. Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?” There’s no bite to his response, just an air of defeat.
I clutch my winding key necklace, pressing my fist to my chest. “Where were they sent?” I repeat, ignoring his words, telling myself they’re lies.
Nothing he’s said is true.
He swats at his desk, yanks open a drawer, and pulls out a folded map. A sinister laugh escapes him as he throws it at my chest. “Fine. Go. Find his remains, half-buried in the snow somewhere between here and Gliwice.” He drops down into his leather chair and throws his weight back.
