The year is 1942 and Europe is at the height of World War Two. Mila Goldstein, a Dutch Jew living in occupied Holland, has signed on as an informant for the British Secret Intelligence Service (SIS). However, days before her assignment, a wounded Ge...
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I loved reading all of yall's comments and messages, so here's another new chapter for you guys! I had originally intended it to be longer than this, but I decided to split it into two chapters since it was getting a little lengthier than I thought it would! Let me know what you guys think! <3
It had been a week since her meeting with Heinrich Muller, and the interrogation sessions had grown more and more vicious with each passing day. Each morning, she was plucked out of bed and brought to the same small, cinderblock room. If S.S. Meyer was waiting there for her, she knew she would be in for a long day. Sometimes though, S.S. Wagner conducted the sessions. Those days weren't as bad. He hadn't beaten her since their first encounter, his interrogations much more tame compared to his counterpart's.
She knew it was all part of the game they were playing with her, trying to make her crack. It was the old good cop-bad cop routine. Wagner would escort her to the room, Meyer would torture her for information, and then Wagner would come get her, tending to the fresh wounds issued by Meyer once they'd returned to her cell. She knew exactly what they were doing but the harsher the beatings from Meyer got, the more she found herself longing for Wagner's deceptively comforting touch afterward.
Pulling her knees up to her chest, she rolled onto her side on the cot, facing the wall. She had no idea what time it was, but morning had to be fast approaching. Staring at the cinderblock, she traced the grooves in the cement with her eyes, trying to distract herself from the day waiting before her.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, she drew in a deep breath, her ribs aching as her lungs expanded. She had to keep her resolve ... Be strong and wait for Josef. With each day that passed though, she was beginning to wonder if he was coming back for her at all. She had had to push the urge to give up away more than once over the last week. She'd wanted, multiple times, to tell them everything she knew so that it would be over. She couldn't do that though. She trusted Josef ... She had to ... It was the only thread of hope she had left.
"Time to get up," S.S. Wagner's voice called as her cell door creaked open. Wiping one last stray tear away, Mila sat up, her knees still pulled tightly to her chest. "Let's go," He said, grabbing hold of her arm and hoisting her off the bed. She allowed him to pull her out of the room, her bare feet padding against the concrete floor, as he led her down the hallway. Passing the familiar room where the interrogations were held, they kept going, turning down a corridor Mila had never been down before.
"Where are we going?" She asked, as they made another turn.
"To the showers," Wagner answered matter-of-factly.
"Showers?" Her brow furrowed.
"You haven't washed in over a week," He said, pulling her along. "You're starting to smell."
Her cheeks flushed. If she smelled as awful as she felt, she really did need a shower. She hadn't bathed since the morning of the day she'd been captured. Despite her embarrassment though, she was glad to take a shower. Not just to get clean, but also in hopes that maybe it meant S.S. Wagner would be questioning her today and she wouldn't have to see S.S. Meyer.
