Schatzi

40

The barracks were completely empty when Peter finally returned. The remainder of the healthy prisoners had been taken away and there was no one left. It had taken a few days, but he'd managed to get Jens out of there amongst the chaos. The guards were as trigger happy as ever but two half dead inmates moving from one block to another were hardly their biggest priority anymore.

He'd had to support Jens the whole way back, and with him weak from disease and hunger, it had taken over two hours to walk less than a kilometre. It was slow going but when they finally made it they were able to collapse from exhaustion onto empty bunks.

When he'd caught his breath, Peter sat up to look at Jens. It was hard, hard to look at him and know what they'd done to him. The prisoners in the camp were all half starved to death, especially with the lack of routine brought about by the slow destruction of the camp which meant less regular measly meals. He was weak from hunger, but Jens was a living skeleton, pale dull skin stretched over jutting bones, muscle wasted away after years of being strapped down to that table practically 24/7. His body was covered in deep dark bruises and little pinprick needle marks that hadn't healed properly. The tight leather straps had rubbed his skin raw.

Peter knew there was nothing he could say to express how sorry he felt. Nothing he or anyone else in the world could say that would make Jens feel better.

In the days since he'd found him in that dark room he hadn't asked him exactly what had happened. He didn't think he wanted to know. He doubted Jens would tell him even if he could work up the courage to ask. Jens hadn't spoken since he'd found him other than to say Peter's name a couple of times as he gripped his arm tightly, as if trying to prove to himself that Peter was really there. The look in his eyes scared Peter more than any physical injuries on his body. He just stared, expression blank. Nothing Peter said seemed to have any effect on him anymore. He wasn't really there anymore. Not really.

"I don't know where they're taking them," Peter said, gesturing around the barrack to the empty beds. "But you wouldn't know any of them anyway even if they were here. No one else made it as long as we did, Jens." He tried to make his tone happier, force a smile, like they were winning the game. "We're still alive. And things are changing now. Everything's become different in the past month. People say it's ending." Jens said nothing. "Maybe we'll actually get out of here."

Brigitte's youngest daughter had come upstairs to talk to Eli and Rachel on that sunny afternoon in April. Heidi was Peter's youngest sister, although she had a different father to him even though no one ever said it out loud. Brigitte never married that man and she didn't want Heidi growing up knowing of the shameful circumstances of her birth. The girl obviously knew by now. She was definitely not the smartest but she wasn't a complete idiot.

She was a vapid and boring girl, dissimilar to the rest of the Printz children in that her hair was a dark brown rather than light blonde, and her eyes were a dull grey. She always had a dreamy like look about her, like she was elsewhere. Maybe she was thinking about something troubling. Maybe not. Eli didn't think she had a single thought in her head to be perfectly honest.

Just the sight of her annoyed him. That dazed look rubbed him the wrong way and he just wanted to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to wake up and live in the real world. She had a whole life she could go out and live and instead she stayed inside, hollowed up with whatever toy she'd discovered that month.

For April it was tarot cards. Her friend had introduced her to 'fortune telling' and now she thought she was some kind of witch. She'd sit with Eli and talk to him for hours on end about her new hobby. She didn't really understand them at all. She'd just warble on about some nonsensical situation or another that was apparently going to happen to him 'Soon, my boy. The cards never lie.'