"It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt."
― Abraham Lincoln
Crossing the Line
Chapter Eleven
After months of enduring soldiers barging into her flat for searches, imagine Seras confusion when someone knocked. She knew it wouldn't be Hans (he wouldn't come until she approached him first). With the utmost caution, she eased back her bolts and peaked out. A tall, lean woman grinned from the shadows of the afternoon light. "Seras Victoria, I presume?" The swastika burned brightly on her sleeve. "My name is Rip Van Wrinkle." Her German accent was thick as the gloom in the hallway.
"H-how do you do," Seras stuttered and bobbed her head.
"Very well, thank you, but I could do with something to drink." It wasn't a subtle self-invite into her home.
"I'm sorry, but I don't have any tea or coffee."
The woman frowned, sighed, and said, "I thought English women were suppose to be good hostesses. But water will do." She shouldered her way into Seras' flat. Taking time to gaze out the window, Miss. Wrinkle cackled, "I think we have helped increase your property value!"
"Excuse me?" Seras fidgeted by the table.
The woman didn't deign to answer. Instead she sat at the table and questioned Seras about all sorts of inconsequential, albeit private matters. As the sky darkened, Miss. Wrinkle left without any sort of pleasantries. Only then did Seras realize her guest never took a sip of water. Gazing across the horizon as the sun bled red into sky, her eyes settled on the empty ghetto which could be easily discerned due to its barbed wired walls. The memories of the day when she realized the true horrors of the Nazis' plan simmered at the surface of her thoughts. She couldn't dwell. Such a thing wouldn't help those who are dead. Forming a resolve to investigate those who were separated from the other people Seras didn't expect to have another visit from Miss. Winkle, but she did and with the most audacious question on the tip of her tongue: "Are you a virgin, Frau Victoria?" Miss. Winkle purred.
Seras blinked. This couldn't be happening—this isn't happening, she tried to convince herself. Several seconds of awkward silence passed before the question was repeated, with obvious impatience. Flushed and shaking, Seras replied, "I hardly think such a question is approp—"
"Yet it is a question I asked!" Miss. Winkle gnashed her teeth together like a hungry dog waiting for its meal.
Wanting the woman out of her house, Seras straightened and snapped, "Yes. I am. Now show yourself to the door." She sounded much braver than she felt before this strange woman, but most of the anxiety having to do with the gleaming, mysterious riffle propped up on the table.
Miss Winkle's ugly, rage induced face folded into a grin which did nothing to comfort Seras. "Very good, Frau Victoria, very good." With that, the woman departed.
Author: No excuses. Only chapters. (and reviews, please?)