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✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲
"So that's all you can do?" he asked, clearly trying to provoke me. "Slap someone across the face?"
I hadn't thought it possible to frown any deeper, yet somehow I managed.
I looked at him with utter disgust, hoping to find at least a trace of humanity or respect for a woman somewhere behind his eyes.
There was none.
His expression was empty.
"I suppose that's all," he continued mockingly. "Considering that, a moment ago, you couldn't even bring yourself to fire the gun you were holding. Did they even train you for combat?"
"They did," I replied, forcing myself to remain calm and not inflame his aggression any further.
Every hostile move I made could end badly for me.
I had no desire to die so young.
I wanted to survive this war.
To return to Boston.
To work in a hospital and earn an honest living.
To meet a man I loved, marry him, and have children together.
I dreamed of raising those children side by side with my husband, watching them walk into their first classroom, then later into college.
One day, I hoped to watch them marry and hold my grandchildren in my arms.
I wanted to grow old peacefully and die with dignity, surrounded by the people I loved.
"Then why don't you show me those skills?" the German taunted again.
He was trying to offend me, but without much success.
If he truly wanted to provoke me, he would have to try much harder.
"Why don't you just kill me?" I asked instead, changing the subject.
"You have the perfect opportunity."
"Believe me, I'd gladly do it," he replied.
"But I wasn't sent here merely to guard that idiot partisan while he carried out his mission."
He finally released his grip on me, wiped his mouth and beard with the palm of his hand, and raised an eyebrow.
"I was also ordered to bring you back to our camp."
"Me?"
I pointed at my chest, genuinely stunned.
The soldier said nothing.
He simply watched me with an unreadable expression.
"What could you possibly want with me?"
"You don't have the right to ask questions," he snapped.
