I stood, not daring to breathe. Sounds trickled through — a chair set upright, tea splashed into the sink, the squeak of the kitchen door, the rustling of a paper bag.A man’s voice said, “Mutti, Vati, it’s so good to see you. This is for you.”That voice. It sounded so familiar. Where …? No, it couldn’t be …!I knew I was taking a risk, but I opened the pantry door just a crack to see if I was right.My heart stopped. Standing there with a paper bag in one hand, hugging Margarete and Helmut, was Officer Schmidt from my labour camp! Strutting, power-hungry Officer Schmidt. This man was their son Martin?I sneaked the door closed. If Officer Schmidt saw me here he’d shoot me on the spot. I was plunged once more into darkness.My knees felt weak and I grabbed a shelf. All these days that I had been fattening myself up and letting my wounds heal, I had been sleeping in the bed of a monster. This same man had selected young children in our camp to be killed, others to be worked to death.
