As she peeled off her skirt, Dorotha wanted to scream. It felt as if something was biting her outer thigh, the pain sharp and tearing.
‘I-It’s fine,’ she stammered. ‘It’s just a graze. Hand me that jacket.’
Bundling it into a ball, she pressed it down hard into the wound, and nearly passed out from the pain. Slumping down against the wall, she tried to breathe.
‘Once the bleeding stops, I’ll be fine.’
‘Are you sure?’ Gabriele asked, ‘you’re so pale.’
‘I am fine,bubbeleh,’ she replied, through gritted teeth. ‘He must be a lousy aim.’
As her eyes adjusted to the light, Dorotha realised there was a box in the corner that hadn’t been there when she had last visited the room to hide her diary and the ring. On the top was a piece of paper.
‘It’s a letter,’ Gabriele said, picking it up and handing it to her.
With a knot in her throat, Dorotha read.
I think deep down I always knew you would stay to the bitter end to protect Gabriele. You are a woman of courage and strength. Knowing that I can have a future that includes you as my wife gives me every reason to stay alive. I hope my love gives you the same will to survive. Wherever I am sent, I’m there in body only. My heart remains with you.
Always and forever, Oscar
Underneath the letter was a flask of water, some dried crackers, a single potato and a small bottle filled with clear liquid. She pulled out the cork and sniffed. Vodka.
Quickly, she pulled out the blood-soaked rag and doused her wound liberally with the vodka. She had no idea if it would work,but if it stopped bacteria infecting the wound, it would be worth the searing pain.
She bundled the jacket up and pressed it firmly to stem the blood.
‘And now, I think we should rest, little one.’
Gabriele leaned her head against her arm and curled up next to her like a comma. Dorotha squeezed back tears, so overwhelmed with protective love for the girl.
Please God let me remain alive, if only to see this child safe and sound.
The minutes felt like hours and the hours, months, as dawn bled into day and back to night. Dorotha rationed use of the candles for what she guessed was about ten minutes in a day, and allowed them just a few sips of water from the flask every several hours. She cut the bread and raw potato into tiny pieces and split the crackers into a handkerchief, careful not to drop so much as a precious crumb. A bucket on the other side of the bookcase was on hand for their toilet needs.
She had no idea of the severity of her gunshot wound, for the entire area was numb. In fact, there was a creeping numbness sluicing through her limbs like iced water, and she was cold. So, so cold.
The muffled thump of artilleries sounded so often they got used to it. Every thump and explosion brought them much relief, because surely it brought them closer to their liberation. Gabriele did what she could to keep their spirits up. To begin with, she told her stories, and as much as Dorotha loved hearing her voice, she heard fatigue drag itself through the girl’s breath.
‘Did I tell you about Hansel and Gretel? You know the house was never made of cake and sugar but bread and butter. You could go and cut yourself a big slice of bread whenever you wanted...’ She broke off to cough.
‘I adore your stories,bubbeleh, but maybe it’s best to save your energy,’ Dorotha rasped.
Soon the air inside the tiny room was stuffy.
‘It’s so hot,’ Gabriele complained, unwinding the scarf from her head.
‘Is it?’ Dorotha whispered. In which case, why was she so cold and numb? She looked down to see a cockroach scuttling over her leg and yet, she could barely feel it.
Dorotha had thought the starvation and indignity bad enough, but then the last candle finally burnt out and they were plunged into an inky coffin, so black she couldn’t see a hand in front of her. Panic gripped her, wave after wave, and she fought back. If she gave into it, they were both done for. Finally, she fell into a fitful sleep. Distantly she was aware of Gabriele stroking her hair and, despite Dorotha instructing her to save her energy, she was still whispering stories in her ear.
‘Emil says there is always a way out, even in the darkest of situations,’ Gabriele murmured. Dorotha tried to smile but her lips were so dry and cracked she could only nod. Instead, she imagined Gabriele’s voice, so sweet and pure, was like a little light. She just had to focus on the light. Pins and needles filled her head. She passed out.
One, two hours later, who knew, Dorotha woke up with a gasp. Total silence.
‘What happened to the guns?’ Gabriele mumbled.
Had the Soviets invaded the ghetto or been driven back? Or maybe everyone was dead. Just then, she heard a sudden gunshot and footsteps.
