Reyna Feldman, a twenty year old Jewish girl from the tiniest of villages in France, is on the run. Captured by German soldiers while trying to escape over the border, she's taken to an internment camp in Freiburg, Germany, where she meets SS Philli...
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***TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains violence and (PG-14) depictions of assault. There are no graphic scenes but it still might be triggering to some readers! Proceed with caution!***
Snow crunched underneath Reyna's feet, the officer's hand who'd come to escort her, wrapped tightly around her arm as he tugged her forward, towards the officer barracks.
Her skin prickled from the iciness that seemed to hang in the air, the cotton dress Liza had put on her not doing much to conceal her from the elements.
Pushing open a heavy iron door, the officer pulled her inside, the gust of warm air that whooshed over her flushing her cheeks as he led her up a flight of stairs. He knocked lightly again a wooden door at the top of the staircase, before opening it.
"Leutnant Muller," The officer greeted one of the men seated on the sofa in German. "The girl you asked for," He said, gesturing to Reyna before pushing her lightly into the room. With that, the officer closed the door, leaving her alone with the two men.
"What's your name?" The man the officer had called Lieutenant Muller asked, his eyes trailing down her frame in a way that sent a shiver down her spine.
She stole a glance at him. She recognized him from earlier that day. He was the soldier who'd taken her to the group of girls.
"He asked your name," The other man said when she gave no reply. She drew in a shaky breath, trying to ignore the thudding of her heart pounding in her ears. "Poor thing," The man chuckled, glancing from Reyna to Lieutenant Muller. "She's as frightened as a little mouse."
"Reyna," She spoke in the steadiest voice she could muster. Lieutenant Muller's lips twisted into an amused smirk.
"Well Reyna ... Why don't you make us some drinks," He said, nodding towards the bar cart stationed beside the sofa. She hesitated for a moment before approaching it. Grabbing the glass bottle, she pulled out the cork, pouring the dark liquid into two glasses. Grabbing the glasses with shaky hands, she handed one to Lieutenant Muller, then to the man seated across from him.
"Come sit down," Lieutenant Muller smiled, patting the seat beside him. She stepped back reflexively, wishing there was something, anything, she could do to escape the situation she found herself in. "I said sit down," He said more forcefully this time. His pleasant demeanor faltered for a moment, returning when she took an apprehensive step towards the sofa.
Biting her lip, she sat down beside him, training her eyes on the threadbare rug that sat beneath the sofas and coffee table. He placed a hand against her knee, her whole body tensing at the unsolicited touch.
"Why don't you let your hair down for me," Lieutenant Muller said, his hand inching up her leg slightly. Swallowing hard, she reached up and unpinned her hair, the loose waves cascading around her face and down her back. "Much better," Lieutenant Muller smirked. Twisting one of the curls around his finger, he lifted it up to examine it. Releasing her hair, he brushed the backs of his fingertips against her cheek.
