Winfred

96

Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

Freidrich did not reprimand Schwab for the man’s treatment of his office. He didn't scold him for the way he ran the prison. He simply walked Schwab to the door, and Schwab left. He did not even respond to Schwab’s jabs at his character.

However, when Schwab, on the tail end of an insult, slapped him on the back, he flinched, his eyes filling with pain and his teeth clenching.

Schwab, realizing this, made a personal effort to knock into Friedrich, or clasp his shoulder, or slap him on the back, as much as he could before he left.

Finally, he was gone, and Freidrich was returning to his office as quickly as he could, his posture stiff and his hands clenched at his sides.

I followed, having a sinking feeling that I knew what Freidrich’s superiors had done to him.

I reached the outer office, and his door was closed.

I knocked, only to receive no response.

But I knew he was there, so I only continued to knock.

Finally, he spoke, his teeth gritted. “Go away, Ilsa,” he said. “Please. Leave. Take the day off.”

I only knocked again.

“Please!” he said, his voice sounding desperate.

I sighed, sadly, but left then. However, I only went to the prison’s medic and retrieved bandages and a wet washcloth. I had a feeling that Freidrich could use them.

I returned to the office and knocked once more.

“Ilsa…” he said, his voice sounding like more of a moan. “I really don’t…”

“I’m not leaving, Freidrich!” I said, putting as much force into my voice as possible.

Silence.

He seemed to have realized that his efforts at an argument were futile and I heard him sigh.

“Alright then,” he said. “But you’ll have to find your key and unlock the door. I…I’d rather not get up again for a while.”

I already had my key in hand and the door was unlocked in no time.

Freidrich was sitting at his desk, but he was leaning forward, avoiding the back of the chair as if it were the plague. His elbows were resting on the desk, and his face was in his hands, his fingers tangled in his hair, white from the tightness of his grip.

“Freidrich…” I said, quietly.

He shook his head slightly.

I came to stand next to him and hesitantly touched his shoulder. He flinched, slightly, but didn’t pull away completely.

“Punishment?” I whispered.

He hesitated a moment before nodding once.

“Tell me,” I said.

He turned to study me, frowning. Finally, he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You don’t need to know. You shouldn’t concern yourself with this.”

I was tired, however, of his avoiding telling me what was wrong. I knew he hadn’t told anyone else either, because that was Freidrich. He wouldn’t tell anyone, not even when the pain grew too great to bear alone.

“You can’t just hide everything from everyone!” I said, my voice a bit louder than I had intended it to be.

Freidrich looked angry. “Can’t I?!” he said, the anger evident in his voice.