I ducked under Hartigan’s outstretched arm and pushed open the door, with some foolish hope of pretending I’d gotten turned around and ended up in the room by mistake. Wenzel was on the other side of the door. He seized my arms. I slid my legs around his ankles and with the fury that had been boiling in me for a month, took his feet out from under him. He fell backward, still holding me, but his grip loosened as he fell, and I pulled away, rolling on my side and coming up in a crouch.

Hartigan was facing me, pulling a gun. I twisted away, then suddenly lost control of my limbs. I was shot through the air as from a cannon and careened headfirst onto the pile of jackets. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. The skin on my chest stung. My legs were wet, and I smelled urine and burning cloth. My arms and legs jerked spastically.

Hartigan stood over me, a smile of exultant sadism on his face, and lifted one large booted foot. I managed to wrench myself sideways just before he kicked me. His boot sank savagely into my ribs, and then into my skull.

When I woke I was in a dark room. My head pounded violently. I tried to lift a hand to feel my head but I couldn’t move my arms. My ribs ached and my stomach heaved. I shut my eyes and passed out again.

I felt a hand on my arm and someone saying, Is she alive? I wanted to pull my arm away but I still couldn’t move it. I was alive, someone else confirmed, but I wasn’t going anywhere, they could take off the manacles.

“Someone like her will fool you, Hartigan,” the first voice said. It belonged to CO Polsen. “Wenzel has a concussion from the blow she gave him. Leave her chained up, that way you’ll be sure.”

It was the fall, I wanted to say. I took his legs out from under him and he fell. But my jaw hurt and I couldn’t speak. Later someone brought me water. I was so grateful tears spurted out the sides of my eyes.

My cousin Boom–Boom had dared me to climb the crane, I tried to tell my mother. And why had I done it, she demanded in Italian. Do you need to do everything that crazy boy does? What are you trying to prove, that you’re a cat who has nine lives? My father told her to let me be, I had a concussion and two broken ribs and that was punishment enough. And my punishment, my mother shouted in English, if she’s taken from me in one of these crazy exploits you and your brother laugh at, I will never survive it.