No, I couldn’t fall for Ebner’s lies. He was never going to send us home. My family was a tactic in this vicious game. His best one.

Once we returned to Pawiak, the guards took me inside. In an odd way, I was grateful for their firm grips. The pain had subsided into a dull ache, but I didn’t have the strength to drag my battered body down the hall. I had to compose myself before we reached the cell.

I was questioned, that’s all. Just questioned.

While I concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other, I offered a silent prayer of thanks that Ebner hadn’t broken any bones and the signs of my interrogation were beneath my clothing.

Before the war, I thanked God for things like my family, friends, and sunshine, but if something affected those blessings, I lamented my misfortune. I had the audacity to ask God why He let rain chase away my sunshine, as if a thunderstorm were the worst thing that could happen to a girl. But far worse things could happen to a girl: getting her entire family arrested, being interrogated by the Gestapo, having no power to prevent whatever lay ahead. All I had was rain, and I didn’t know if the sunshine would ever return. So I’d find blessings amid the thunder and lightning.

When our cell came into view, I saw my family waiting in tense silence while Mama paced back and forth. She’d probably been pacing since I’d left. The sour stench of sweat, urine, and vomit surrounded me and mingled with the tang of blood and smoke. The smells of Szucha. I couldn’t mask them, but I wouldn’t give away anything else.

Karol was the first to notice me, and his face lit up. “Maria is back.”

The guards shoved me inside. When I landed on the floor, Mama was beside me in a heartbeat before she lunged at the guards with a bloodcurdling shriek. “Bastards!”

It was wishful thinking, believing I could convince my parents that I’d been merely questioned.

Once we went to the Warsaw Zoo and watched the zookeeper feed the lions. As the man approached the enclosure, one lion sprang at him through the bars. If not for those bars, I was certain the zookeeper would have been dead.

Mama’s blond hair had been pinned into its usual elegant updo, but that had been destroyed in the scuffle accompanying our arrest. Her hair now cascaded in unruly waves around her face, framing wild eyes and lips curled into a snarl, and she reminded me of that lion. She reached for the guards’ throats and probably would have torn them out, but they slammed the door. She grabbed the bars, demanding the cowards come back and face her, but their footsteps faded as they disappeared down the hall.