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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YAY FOR CHAPTER 16!! We have been so busy moving into our new house and adopting a puppy that I haven't had time to actually sit down and write part two to this scene! I hope you guys love it! Don't forget to vote and comment! :)
Bang!
Mila gasped, sitting straight up in bed. Wiping away the beads of sweat peppered across her forehead, she tried to push away the images that had jarred her from her sleep.
It had been the same nightmare that had been plaguing her dreams every night for over a month - the bloody soldier from the alley grasping her throat - a gun pointed at her temple - she had grown accustomed to it now, knowing a variation of the same nightmare was sure to come when she closed her eyes to sleep. Flipping on the lamp on the bedside table, she looked around Josef's bedroom, trying to slow her racing heartbeat.
Soon after the explosion that had caused the mandatory curfew, Josef had shown her to his bedroom, insisting she take his bed while he slept on the sofa for the night. Laying out a t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, he had given her a peck on the forehead before retiring to the living room for the night.
Sighing, she threw back the covers, and stood to her feet. Looking around, she took in the room around her. Josef's bedroom was much the same as the rest of his house, void of nearly any personal affects. Walking to the dresser, she picked up the single picture frame that sat atop it. Examining the black and white image, her eyes fell on a man and woman with three small children. The man stood tall, with broad shoulders and a chiseled jaw. The woman was thin, with fare hair and eyes just like Josef's. The three small children, Mila guessed, were Josef and his siblings. She smiled at the eldest of the children. Josef couldn't have been older than eleven or twelve when the photograph had been taken.
Glancing up from the photo, she looked towards the door, a soft muffled voice coming from down the hall. Placing the frame back down on the dresser, she approached the door, turning the knob softly as another muffled voice came from the living room. Making her way down the hallway, her eyes fell on Josef, who was lying on the sofa, his brow furrowed in distress.
"Michael," He called, tossing his head to the side. "No ... Michael," He called again, this time louder.
"Josef," Mila whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Josef," She repeated shaking him lightly when he continued to toss and turn. Suddenly a hand grasped her arm, yanking her forward roughly. Her eyes met Josef's blue ones, which were glaring up at her, his grip around her arm tightening as whatever nightmare he was having continued. "Josef, its me! Its Mila!" She said, willing him to see her.
As if snapping out of the trance holding him captive, his eyes widened as they focused in on her, his harsh grip on her arm releasing immediately.
"Mila," He breathed, sitting up, eyeing the red ring around her forearm his hand had created.
"Are you okay?" He asked, reaching out to touch her. "I didn't mean-,"
