This man was putting me, a girl, through Gestapo interrogation. Did he really think I’d believe he was sentimental?

“My wife, Brigitte, is a housewife. Hans is near your age, and he wants to become a lawyer. Anneliese is younger and says she’ll get married and have beautiful Aryan babies, but first, she’ll own a store which sells dolls, dresses, and chocolates.” He flashed an amused smile.

Discovering he had children left me with a small ray of hope; in the next instant it faded. I knew better than to trust him. The tactic was a good one, I gave him that. But not good enough.

“If you answer my questions, I will arrange for your release. And your family’s. Now, surely you can tell me who gave you your orders.”

The bribe sounded so genuine. If I hadn’t suspected that it was a bluff, he would have convinced me. Naturally I wanted my family released, but, even if I betrayed the resistance and confessed, somehow I didn’t think Ebner would let us go.

When I didn’t comply, he jerked his head in a nod, issuing a silent order. Before I could guess what it was, the guards lifted me as if I weighed nothing, and my chair clattered against the floor. They disregarded my struggles and tore off my skirt. Why were they taking off my clothing? It was happening too fast, much too fast. So fast that I had no time to resist.

Irena was right. They aren’t taking pity on me because I’m young.

The guards stripped me of everything except undergarments—a small, unexpected blessing—and slammed my back against the wall. They searched my clothing first, then tossed it aside and discovered the small seams in my brassiere, betraying hidden pockets.

The pockets are empty. I wanted to scream the words, but I could scream them only inside my mind. Don’t search them, please don’t search them.

But I knew they would, and they did. They searched my entire body and probed the pockets thoroughly, relishing my flinches and struggles while Ebner watched in silence. After they groped me, I was too breathless to struggle. I glanced at the woman in the corner, praying she’d come to my aid, but she placed a fresh sheet of paper in the typewriter and paid me no mind. I shrank back, acutely aware of my near nakedness among these wicked people.

It’s an intimidation tactic. Don’t let them know it’s working.