Z screams and curses herself into sleep once more, the pain is more than her broken body can bear.
She hates everything.
Hates the walls, hates the sky, hates his face.
Smiling down at her with gleaming, empty eyes, a dead man's eyes.
Z looks up into the blinding, eerie beauty of the Angel Of Death, Dr Josef shines down at her, lit from behind by the white lights like some ungodly halo: it is like trying to stare into the sun, as little children do.
Herr Doktor likes to play games with children, games that end with death.
Fear crawls into the pit of her stomach and settles there: burning like a candle in the darkness.
Within the hour her sight will be gone, and she will be glad enough of him then.
His tone is cold, harsh, now, he has other patients he must see to, some silly young thing has got herself with child, and her poor, good Catholic parents are most anxious that he should help her with the matter: discreetly of course.
If she is very good, he will read her a story later…ah, see now if she'd been good as he asked, he could have told her earlier that he had bought it and told her all about her other surprise as well, but now she will have to wait.
Never mind, it is not too late to redeem herself, and he is a forgiving man.
Now just lie still and rest and she shall have her storybook as soon as he is finished for the day.
He leaves with a bright, smile that she could almost think kind, were it not so snake-like.
A visceral, animalistic satisfaction.
The smirk of the predator when it has its prey in its claws.
Little Z lies on the brutal cold of the gleaming table, and glances around with fading sight.
Home at last…
A stark white room, the eyeballs glitter back at her from the far wall, and it is only now after all these years that she realises…they are nothing but glass…
She recalls sitting on Herr Doktor's knee whilst he worked, with a specimen in a jar, filled with something that smelt sharp and burning.
Formaldehyde.
A chemical that can be used to preserve "biological material".
In layman's terms, it stops the natural processes of decomposition…he looked into her little uncomprehending face.
It will stop body parts from rotting.
It sounds so foul when he says it like that, all the art and science is lost from the sentiment.
Z giggles: Engel klug.
Angel clever.
He smiles and Z remembers how the glow of his flattered self-satisfaction felt like lying in the Spanish sun.
She lies spread out like a butterfly, as her world grows darker.
Z almost cries out in fear and then bites her tongue.
If she is good and quiet, he will come back…
But the eyes at Auschwitz…black and blue and purple and green as her poor face used to be after one of his beatings, they were as real as the noonday sun, she has sorted them with her own little hands.
What has become of them?
Real eyes cannot live on the white walls…they must have been sent somewhere else…to the Institute with the fair man.
The pain is crowding out all thought, she digs her nails into her palms and bites her tongue bloody, swallowing her screams.
The poor girl in the next room does not, she can hear her howling through the wall.
Lucky bitch.
She is free, to run wild and disappoint her good Catholic parents…she has her parents still!
Little Z would trade places with her in a heartbeat: that strange girl will be allowed to leave here when her procedure is finished.
Z is trapped, like a firefly beneath glass, beating gossamer wings worthlessly, and smouldering away to nothing.
She is not his friend, his companion or his lover.
That was a lie, she is: what were the words he used: "biological material".
She is his research subject. Nothing more…she doesn't even have…
A familiar scent fills her nose, sharp and acrid, expensive French perfume that she last smelt in 1945 and a tap, tap tapping like an insect…
Hallo Dearie.
Nurse!
Z is babbling with excitement, waving her hands like a hummingbird even in her sorry state, and Nurse laughs, well when Herr Doktor called and offered her old job back, but in a new tropical place how could she say no?
The pay is certainly better than what the Reich was offering, and with the Fatherland in the state it's in, it's the sort of hope any family could wish for.
Her children do well, how sweet of Z to remember and ask! Her daughters will be nurses here, like herself, her son survived Stalingrad, and poor Hans came home without one of his eyes and missing his left leg.
No dearie, he is not going to allow Her Doktor to experiment to see if he can give him a new one.
But her daughters and herself earn enough to keep him, and Dr Josef has been most kind, in offering care for the boy, and when he is better, a desk job at his factory so that he can still feel some sense of manhood and provide for his family.
Nineteen is too young for such serious injuries, whatever Herr Doktor has to say about treating boys younger still: who received much worse on the Eastern Front.
Hans has even met a lovely young lady friend, and Nurse promises to tell Z all about it tomorrow.
Now how is her pain?
A six? Excellent, brave girl, that is low enough to eat lunch.
Soft hands, unbuckle her straps and the older lady helps Z to sit, gently feeds her one spoonful at a time, and tells her all about the horrors of the Soviet advance to Berlin, and the dreadful crimes that were committed, but not to lose hope!
There is still the network after all, of good, loyal men, like Dr Josef, men committed to the cause of National Socialism.
The Reich will rise from the ashes of its own destruction, and before long they will all be home once more.
Now, the sunshine here will be even better for her treatments. Such sun Nurse never imagined in all her days, come and sit out in the fresh air.
Here is Pink Bunny.
Clutching her toy, Z is led out into the warmth and sits on a low bench behind the clinic, the air is heavy with bright jungle flowers and the song of birds, it feels almost like home.
Nurse tells her all about how things have been, and Z shares a little of their own adventures.
At last, Herr Doktor comes out to her, she delights in the heady scent of mint, bright and sharp and familiar.
She feels his soft hands upon her face, as he asks how she is feeling now?
Z smiles, better, her eyes are still sore, but she knows that soon they will be better,
Engel will look after her.
Dr Josef assures her that he will, now, should she like to join him for dinner?
Z nods, and she fumbles for his arm, he leads her carefully in, and Nurse feeds poor Z, as she catches up with Herr Doktor.
Herr Doktor puts Z into the car with Pink Bunny, and with Nurse seated in the back drives them home.
Z is confined to the house and bright garden for the next month, helped at all times by Nurse, who is glad to have her little charge back, Z is less difficult now than she was.
The dose Dr Josef gave her was higher than ever, a week later and poor Zee's eyes are still burning: her world is still black, and Nurse is beginning to worry.
She sits quietly in the garden and tries not to cry from the pain.
After another week Nurse is asking Dr Josef if there is any way to reverse it, and he is getting angry.
Z chokes down her food and says nothing, merely clutching Pink Bunny tighter as the other two argue.
She gets up late and retires as early as Nurse will allow, she no longer takes interest in her toys, and her music box has a fine layer of silver dust on it.
Dr Mengele realises it has been weeks since he last read her a story.
When she no longer asks for Pink Bunny, Dr Josef, at last, agrees that something must be done.
He is concerned that Z may be falling into melancholia, and she was always such a bright, happy child.
The nightmares are concerning, her family all but haunt her, she wakes him in the midnight with her screaming.
He returns after an exhausting day, Z is out in the garden on her usual bench, so that the sunlight may help her eyes lighten.
A bird pecks at her shoe, she is sitting so still, and Z hisses like a savage and kicks out at him with one tiny foot.
Dr Josef is appalled: cruelty to animals is a mark of psychopathy.
And Z was always such a good, kind little girl.
Especially where animals and small children were concerned….
He thinks back over all that she has seen, the journey from Romania in a cramped cattle car, surrounded by the stench of the prisoners, the wailing of infants, the desperate cries for water, for mercy, for death…
And then she had come to the camp, selected and worked and beaten to the point of swallowing the poison vial, the silly little creature hadn't even broken the glass properly, just left the wicked elixir eating away at her insides until she was dragged into his hospital block.
He smiles at the memory.
At last, he had discovered what he had had, right there all these months, just beyond his window: digging mass graves.
He remembers how he had shown her around his office, once before: when he caught her snooping about for food.
She had eaten the bread he offered and he had explained to her about his work.
Then he had to send her back to hell…he should have kept her for himself from the beginning.
She doesn't turn her head when he moves to sit beside her, and a shadow falls upon his cold heart.
This is the first time in years she hasn't smiled to see him…
He recalls her joyous shout: Engel! And the way her tiny arms would wrap around his neck so he could lift her up: and she would kick her tiny feet in delight.
Now she sits like a woman grown, bitter and tired with the pain of living.
Dr Josef Mengele wants his little Z back.
He dislikes this dark, cold, angry creature that has replaced her like a changeling: without his even noticing, it simply crept into his life and stole his favourite toy away from him.
He offers her candy and she simply shakes her head, no.
Shall they play with the cat?
No.
Should he read to her?
No.
Todesengel go away.
The world turns…he knew that was what the prisoners called him, the least flattering of all his names: but to hear little Z use it: or this miserable creature wearing her sweet face is horrifying.
She has almost never, never called him that!
She knows the lies they tell! How could she even think…
Perhaps he should beat the devil out of her.
He pauses, there is something so utterly hideous about beating a blind child that he finds it is beyond even him.
He reaches out and gently lays her head against his shoulder, is little Z in pain still?
She nods.
He hushes her, tell Engel where it hurts and he will make it better, as he always has.
That is what Doctors do.
No. He will only hurt her again.
Z doesn't like it here, she wants to go home! She wants her mother and her father! She wants the forest and the desert and her old eyes back!
She doesn't want him near her!
She pushes out in her anger, trying to fend him off.
She is hurting and all alone, and has no home and everything, everything is his fault!
Z hates him!
She hates his chemicals and his science and his monstrous, foul experiments!
He is not a Doctor!
Her eyes blaze: blind and an eerie purple-blue: as though the fires of hell were stoked with violets.
He is a murderer!
She looks like a demoniac.
He resists the superstitious urge to cross himself at the sight.
He ought to order Nurse to bathe her in holy water.
Herr Doktor sighs, he is going in to have his dinner. She may just be cross and offensive by herself.
He leaves her out there all night, when the sobbing and screaming grow too loud he turns up the radio and works on his notes.
Nurse simply gives him unpleasant, meaningful looks as she bustles about: he kindly reasons that it is a warm night, and Z is in no danger.
Let her shout it out and hopefully, she will be herself again by morning.
Nurse goes to her own bed with a reproachful glance.
It is four in the morning when a neighbour knocks to enquire if everything is all right, Dr Mengele assures her that one of his mental patients is sadly having one of her episodes, she means no harm by the noise, she does not have the emotional control of a normal, healthy individual.
The woman offers her sympathies and returns to her own house.
Dr Mengele breathes a sign of relief, at last, the howling has stopped.
He returns to the letter he has received, his dear Mother is deathly ill, he should be at her side.
He could cure her…Germany has rid itself of most of its good German doctors: replaced by the choices of their Allied overlords.
He should go home to her….
And they will be waiting for him still.
Surely his darling Mutter is worth such a risk?
A risk she would order him not to take.
He could bring Z, the change of air would do her a power of good.
They could leave in a few minutes…he goes to the door and looks bitterly out: at Z curled in on herself and sobbing over Pink Bunny, lit by the moon's glow.
How did his life go so very, terribly wrong?
He wishes more than anything that he was at home, with his family.
Z is screaming again.
Dr Josef sighs and hurries out into the garden, she is shouting that she can see him!
At last!
He smiles down at her, did he not assure her that everything would be well?
Now, is she going to apologise for being such a little monster? And when his poor Mother is so terribly ill, she has no thoughts or sympathy for anyone but herself.
Dr Mengele regrets that he has spoiled her so.
Z's little face is heartbreaking, he did not tell her his Mother is sick.
Well no, he has been kept far too busy with her tantrums and complaining. He has had to bear the burden alone because his little princess is such a spoiled creature, if she cared for him, instead of what he does to and for her, she might have thought to ask.
Never mind now, she can make it up to him by going and packing their bags for travel, they are returning to Germany, and they will take the first ship.
He must be there to care for his Mother, and Z is going to help him do it.
He smirks as Z turns at once, and vanishes into the house to obey his wishes.
Helmut and Mrs Gregor are aboard within three hours, and drifting across the ocean glittering with stars from above.
Z leans against the rail and counts diamonds in the blackness with Pink Bunny, who has forgiven her for ignoring him: as Dr Mengele tries to sleep.
It is a pointless endeavour for both, he rises and dressing quickly joins her out on the deck.
Dawn breaks in her midnight eyes like hellfire, when Dr Mengele turns to her his soul shudders, his little gypsy looks up at him with a devil's eyes and a sprite's smile.
Her words haunt him, he is not a doctor, he is a murderer!
The faces of the dead look up from the blackness of the water, with stars glittering in the hollows where their eyes should be, he can almost feel their ghostly hands reaching out for him…
Murderer…
The word echoes in his ears, he closes his eyes against the accusing voices.
He never meant to harm anyone! They could never understand, the lives he could save! The cures he had learned…at the cost of a few lives yes, but they were condemned men! And women…and children.
Engel is alright?
Z's little face looks up, bright with concern.
Herr Doktor shakes his head, ja, he will be fine. Come, it is time for bed.
He leads her back into the cabin and he lies beneath the cold covers, Z no longer cuddles put him as she used to.
He thinks she is crying in her sleep again.