We settled down for the night, but I couldn’t sleep. I lay in the darkness, thinking of the failed rebellion, listening as Irena’s words reverberated across my mind.

We sure as hell can’t escape.

Chapter 28

Birkenau, 5 January 1945

THE WINTER THAT followed the Sonderkommando uprising was the coldest I could remember since coming to Auschwitz. The snow and ice were as relentless as the sorrow, guilt, and frustration that had plagued me since the seventh of October. The revolt had been crushed, the Home Army wasn’t coming, and the Red Army hadn’t arrived. Everything I wanted was gone, reduced to ashes like so many other dreams in this dreadful place.

One January morning, I was awake long before dawn, staring at the frost on the windowpane. Hania wasn’t next to me. Since the uprising, she’d been increasingly worried about Izaak, making sleeping difficult, so she often went outside to wrestle her nerves alone. I pulled my blanket more tightly around myself, shivering from the merciless cold, and clung to one of the small pebbles we used as a pawn. Hania and I hadn’t played chess in a while.

How had I believed rebellion and escape were possible in a place like this? Despite the strength of the resistance’s numbers, we were a pathetic force against countless armed guards and electrified barbed wire. We wouldn’t have stood a chance even if we’d gotten help from outside the camp. Auschwitz was built for death, not life. I’d been a fool for thinking life would emerge the victor.

The fourteen-year-old girl with too much confidence and blind faith was still deep inside me, and sometimes I let her influence me more than I should. Now even she knew to stop wishing for rebellion. It might have been a possibility once, but not anymore.

The game was nearing its end. It had been a long, hard battle, but my opponent had placed my king in check. And I wasn’t certain that this was a game I could win.

It was still too early for anyone to be awake when the door to our block swung open, letting in a burst of wind. The slumbering women stirred, gasping and groaning as the frigid air tore across their skin.

“Prisoner 16671, come with me.”

Irena’s voice. Slowly I climbed down from my bunk and followed her from the block. We walked in silence through the dark, freezing morning, and the snow gave way under each new footstep. Once smooth and clean and white, now crushed and marred.

A lone guard passed and reached for his gun when he saw me, but when he noticed I was with Irena, he continued on his way. Word of Frieda Lichtenberg’s claim over Prisoner 16671 had spread, so if Irena was around, most guards didn’t touch me for fear of incurring her wrath. She’d made it clear I belonged to her and her alone.