The year is 1942 and Europe is at the height of World War Two. Mila Goldstein, a Dutch Jew living in occupied Holland, has signed on as an informant for the British Secret Intelligence Service (SIS). However, days before her assignment, a wounded Ge...
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Mila awoke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. Wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead, she glanced at the clock on the wall... 12 AM. The sheets that had surrounded her moments before fell to the floor in a damp, sweaty heap as she stood to her feet. She made her way to the bathroom, flipping on the light, examining herself in the mirror for a moment. Dark circles hung below her blood shot eyes, and her face was pale from exhaustion. Turning on the faucet, she splashed cold water on her face. Wiping her face with the sleeve of her nightgown, she examined her appearance once again. Sighing, she flipped the light off, walking back into the bedroom. Picking up the sheets from the floor, she laid down once again.
The same dream which had awoken Mila countless times before, had visited her tonight. It had been the same summer day ... the same warm, July air that had hit her face four months ago... She had watched, unable to move, as her father and brother were dragged from their home. And had awoken to the sound of gunshots, just as she had each and every time before.
She would never forget that day. The day her father and brother had been murdered at the hands of the Gestapo. She and her sister had watched as their father Amos, and their brother Abel, had been dragged into the street and shot. Almost every night since that day, Mila had awoken to the sound of that very same gunshot, and after her sister had left, the nightmares had only gotten worse.
It had almost been a month since Gwen had left for England. And although her departure had been Mila's decision, not Gwen's, she longed for the company she had lost the moment her sister had stepped on the train. Especially nights like this one when she was left alone with the very thoughts and memories that tormented her.
Mila rolled over in bed, fixing her eyes on the starry night sky that shone dimly through the window. It had been four months. The green leaves that had adorned the trees four months ago had transformed into vibrant yellows and oranges, and had fallen to the ground, leaving bare branches in their absence. The warm air that had engulfed her that July night had been replaced with the bitter cold of November. Time had passed so effortlessly. It had moved on as if her world hadn't been shattered. As if she hadn't lost almost everything she held dear.
She had known something like this could happen. They all had. Almost two years before, her father had offered his services to the British Secret Intelligence Service. When he had, he had agreed to the danger that entailed.
Mila had been only 19 when word of the German invasion in Poland had reached them. Her father had known it wouldn't be long before Holland was invaded as well. He had struck a deal with the British SIS. In return for his espionage, Mila and Gwen would be awarded new identities, and would be given safe passage to London. She and her sister had taken their mother's maiden name: Vanderwall ... Their father and brother hadn't been as lucky. When the Dutch people were forced to register under the new German regime, her father and brother had registered under the name Goldstein, earning them the yellow star that all Jewish men, women, and children would soon be forced to wear.
