"You can spend your inheritance to pay for your living expenses as a temporary measure." Genna's cheeks turn pink. She's a target of unwanted attention not just because she's Jewish; her family has been providing all sorts of services to the Elspeth's for generations.
"The German Republic gave power to that atrocious little creature, why aren't you on the plane to Everest?" I ask her.
Genna guffaws and smoothes down her floral dress, which roughly ends below the knee. She plasters a smile on her face. "You may want to talk to a financial adviser about your options." She adds after folding her hands in her lap.
"If you decide to rent any of your properties, you'll have to pay taxes on any profit you make from the rental income." She puts on another layer of ignorance.
I drum my fingers on the table. "War is coming, Genna."
She frowns. "Humor me with why your dear father left nothing for your sister and mother." Genna leans back in her chair and puts her hands behind her head.
One would normally consider the risk of extinction a problem, but not Genna.
"The first concentration camp was completed last month. Only a fool will believe it's for political prisoners. If you stay, you'll die Genna."
Genna cringes. Her first normal human reaction.
"The money and the properties are officially mine. Leave." I toss in the argument.
She jumps to her feet; her eyes are wet.
"Did you kill him?" Genna starts to yell and oh dear, I hate the screaming.
Her lower lip is trembling. She is scared.
"He told the Führer everything about me. If I allowed him to live, there would be more aberrations. He would never stop."
Her mouth falls open, tears running down her cheeks.
"They know he's dead, but they still want to replicate what he did."
Recognition dawns on her face.
"Jews are on the menu."
Before I can finish my sentence, she slaps me sharply across the face. My cheek stings from where she hit me and yet, I just stand there, unable to do more than stare at the empty space.
Then, we look at each other uncomfortably.
She puts her hands on her hips. "You are your father's only mistake. He should have gotten rid of you."
I grab her neck and squeeze it as hard as I can.
I stop only when her head is disconnected from the rest of her body.
And then, I smile. I can see the end as it begins.
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In memory of the girl in the blue dress.
April 3, 1933
Author's note:
A very special thank you goes to dreamy-harold for editing this chapter.
