By the time Emma stopped crying, her eyes and face were red, but in the dim light of the lamp beside them, the color was hidden. The officer could only see the outline of the girl's features, contorted in agony. Repulsed by her own actions but unable to move, Emma rested her head on the woman's shoulder. In the absence of thought, the officer leaned down and pressed her lips to the top of Emma's head.
In an unfeeling time, a rare act of kindness can either build or break a person with its weight. This act, like none other Emma had experienced in this world of black skies, broke her.
She began to scream and continued to sob uncontrollably. There was no consoling her. The woman tried to quiet her, but when Emma paid her no mind, she had no choice but to cover the girl's mouth firmly with her hand.
"Shh," the officer begged. "They're going to hear you."
This finally quieted Emma, and her screams fell back into lonely, heaving sobs that were silenced as they forced their way up her throat.
After a while, Regina finally said, "Come on. We have to get you back to the barracks before they see you."
Emma, who had not stopped crying, nodded her head obediently, not daring to challenge the kind officer - if she could be called 'kind' at all - and rose to her feet, her legs wobbling as she stood.
Regina supported her with her arm, walking her slowly back to where the empty cot was waiting.
"I'll check on you in the morning," the officer promised, loudly enough for only Emma to hear.
None of the other prisoners woke up as the woman gripped Emma's hand and squeezed it. In that moment, Regina felt the sudden urge to kiss the girl's soft, pale lips goodnight. Like the rest of her emotions, she swallowed this one, and it went back down into her stomach like shards of broken glass. Giving Emma a sad, helpless look of sympathy, she turned and walked away.
That night, the officer slept fitfully, but dreamed nonetheless. In her vision, the young blonde's hair had grown out and bounced over her shoulders. Her eyes lit up. Her body was strong again. Her cheeks were full of color. In her dream, the officer sat in a chair as the girl approached, and when she was close enough, she pulled Emma into her arms. In through the window, light from the white sky poured in and covered them with warmth. When their lips touched, Regina woke up.
Regina had not anticipated the consequences of her actions. Instincts had kicked in before she could stop herself. As such, by the early hours of the morning, before she had to rise, her heart was already throbbing, just waiting for the blow she would be would no doubt be dealt for her interference in the events that took place the night before. As promised, though, the officer returned to the barracks that morning, waking Emma with a hand on her shoulder. Are you alright? was what she wanted to ask, but the rest of the prisoners were awake and watching.
What she said instead was, "Can you work?"
But Emma, though caught off guard by the question, understood her meaning and weakly nodded her head as she tried not to begin crying again.
"Yes, ma'am."
Regina began to extend her hand to help the girl out of bed, but refrained, dropping it back to her side as she watched Emma struggle to her feet.
Once the girl was standing, the officer leaned in and whispered, "I'm so sorry," then turned and left again.
At roll call, when Regina spoke her prisoner number, the girl stepped forward, staring at her savior.
"You!" another officer bellowed. "Schlampe! Slut!"
Emma froze, as did Regina. The man who spoke stepped out of the line of other other Nazi soldiers. It was the officer from the previous night. Regina did not turn to look at him, and Emma said nothing, her insides melting into warm, wet slush inside her.
Then, the officer turned to the rest of the soldiers and said, "This is the Schlampe who stole from us and assaulted me last night!"
Then, he turned on Regina and pointed directly at her.
"She saw it!" he announced. "Tell them!"
Regina wanted to defend the girl, but she doubted that a lie would save her life. She tried anyway.
"It was dark," the female officer replied. "I do not know if this was her."
"Liar!" the man screamed. "You would defend this Jew?"
Inside, Emma was screaming.
"I am not defending her. I do not know if this is the girl."
"Well, I do," he said cooly. "This is her alright."
The officers exchanged glances, and one of them stepped forward. Their superior.
"Well?" the higher-ranking officer challenged. "Do something about it, you Scheisse!"
The man's mouth hung open, but he advanced on the girl quickly and grabbed her by the hair, dragging her down to her knees. As he began to beat the girl, the superior officer laughed.
"No, no, boy! You hit like a girl. I want her dead, not tenderized like a piece of meat!"
The gasp that slipped from between Regina's lips was quiet enough so as not to be noticed.
"Wait," she croaked, stepping forward towards the girl. "Let me... Let me be the one to take her life."
"Ah," the superior officer said with a smile. "So the lady would like a share in the bloodshed. Alright, then. She's yours." When the man looked dumbfounded and didn't release the girl, the officer barked, "Let her go, you little Scheisse! Let the lady have a turn!"
Regina wanted to beat both of the men, to pulverize them until they wished they were dead, but she had to focus on what was at hand. Emma's life. Though it could not be saved - Regina knew this all too well - she had to spare the girl the suffering. And had she not, the suffering would have been great, and her death would not have come swiftly. Swallowing audibly, she removed her gun from its holster on her hip and held it against the back of Emma's head. The girl was sobbing again, but this time, under the gaze of every Nazi in the camp, Regina had no chance to comfort her.
Whispering only, "I'm so sorry," Regina pulled the trigger.
The body collapsed in a heap at her feet, the girl's pale cheek resting on Regina's polished boot. When Regina looked up, there were undoubtedly tears in her eyes. As she holstered the gun, she looked up at the mob of gaping prisoners, who feared their own lives would be taken next. But it was not a prisoner who would be the next to die.
When her eyes moved slowly from the prisoners to the smiling pack of officers, she drew the gun again, this time with her left hand. She pointed it at the two officers, then bent her elbow and positioned it against her own temple. Giving the straight-armed "Heil Hitler!" salute with her right arm, she pulled the trigger again and dropped to the ground, her body crumpling beside Emma's.