Holland 1943. Mieke de Jong is tasked to lure German officers to their deaths. She changes her identity. Infiltrates the enemy. She must lie to live. Fight for her freedom. Be ready to kill. Be ready to die. But love and lust in times of war, is not...
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Trigger Warning: Death & Violence!
I did not sleep that night. I waited by the tiny window, waiting for the first rays of daylight.
By dawn's early light, the guard had arrived, 'It's time.'
My hands are tied behind my back. He leads me through the maze of dark tunnels. We reach a tall staircase, and he gestures for me to walk in front of him, 'Faster!'
He pushes the wooden door open with a thud and I am greeted with the sun's rays of light. I shut my eyes tightly, it feels as though they are unaccustomed to any light at all. With time it becomes easier, I slowly open my eyes, the light now comforting. Today the light is oddly bright, making me feel as though I am in some sort of daydream. It is as though my soul has taken on a lightness, a will to float.
Fehmer stood casually on the balcony overlooking the yard.
'Move!' I am shoved so hard that I almost lose my balance.
Several figures come into view.
Elek.
Ellis.
Dekker.
Eva.
Vera.
Lotte.
There was sadness in everyone's eyes, a heaviness and yet we still managed to smile at one another.
A sad smile – it is as though we are all saying, I'm glad to see you again, but I wish it was under different circumstances. No words need to be exchanged.
No one has been left untouched, but Jorgen Dekker looked the worst of all – a bloody mess, his left eye was swollen over and his dirty ragged shirt covered in crimson splotches.
Elek's face still bears the long-jagged scar across his right cheek, congealed blood and his clothes are an utter mess. Then he tries to say my name, his cracked lips failing at the first syllable, but he doesn't need to, I nod and smile for him.
My sister Ellis' – God – her nose is smashed, lobsided, dried blood caked all over her face. She is dressed in odd fitting piece of material which barley covers her pass her legs. Her skin is ghostly – purple bruises cover her body.
Lotte's skin burns with purple patches. Vera and Eva – I don't want to look any further. They were beautiful women... I couldn't imagine seeing them any other way. That's how I wanted to remember them.
A soldier approaches us with a piece of paper clutched in his hands. As he begins to read the charges, Eva's bottom lip begins to tremble, she bites down hard, trying to stiffen the cries which beg to escape.
'It will all be over soon,' Lotte encourages.
Once the charges have been read, the troops are mobilised to stand in a row.
