by Sarah Jio
I hardly notice what he does to my body, for I am not in it. I am somewhere else, somewhere safe, where he cannot find me. And when he is finished, I lie there, in a frozen state, until he rolls over and begins to snore, at first lightly, then so loudly I imagine the sound must rattle the windows.
Slowly, I creep out of his bed and onto my feet, doing my best to collect my clothing without making a sound. I take a step toward the door, and the floorboard beneath my feet lets out a menacing creak. I make a note of it and take another step, timed to the rhythm of Reinhardt’s snoring, which muffles another creaky spot in the floor. Just three more steps. Two more. But then his snoring stops altogether, and he gasps for breath. I stand naked in the darkness until he rolls over and begins snoring again.
I manage to open and close the door without waking him, then go to the bathroom. I can barely look at my reflection in the mirror. My body aches. There are angry welts on my stomach and thighs, which will surely become bruises tomorrow. I wipe away the blood between my legs then slip into my dress. It’s badly torn and will need to be mended, as I have nothing else to wear. Perhaps Madame Huet has a needle and thread?
I want to take a bath, to wash Reinhardt’s filth off my body, but the noise from the pipes might wake up Madame Huet, or worse, him, so I tiptoe back to my bedroom, to Cosi. I pray she didn’t hear my cries three doors down. I pray that she slept through the assault I endured.
My legs ache as I kneel down beside the bed, lifting back the dust ruffle to check on her, but to my horror, she’s…gone.
“Cosi?” I whisper, terrified, into the darkness. I check the bed, then look around me. “Cosi!” I whisper again.
I sit down on the bed, sinking my head in my hands. It was a mistake to bring her here. A selfish mistake. I wanted so desperately to keep her with me, to protect her. But that’s not what I’ve done. I’ve brought her into the lion’s den with me. How could I have been so foolish? She would have been better off out there. She might have found some nice family to take her in. She’d be safe now, instead of held captive in this prison.
Where could she have gone? I told her to stay under the bed. It isn’t like her to disobey me. I consider the fact that her hunger might have gotten the better of her, and she might have snuck to the kitchen to find something to eat. I’ll check there.
I stand and walk to the door but stop suddenly when I hear a strange sound, almost like an animal scratching the inside of a wall. Probably just a rat. I ignore it and reach for the door handle, and then another sound. This time it’s different: a very quiet knock. One, then another, and another. I listen carefully and trace the sounds, which appear to be coming from…under the bed.
“Cosi?” I whisper, falling to my knees again, but she is not under the bed. The knocking sound persists, however. I crouch at the foot of the bed and pat the floorboards. One gives a little, and I’m able to wedge my fingers into a gap and pry the edge up, pulling a large, square section from the floor. A secret door. I gasp when I see that there’s a little room beneath the floor, and my heart bursts to find Cosi sitting in it.
“Cosi!” I cry. “Are you all right, honey?” She’s been scared of the dark her whole life, but if she is frightened now, she chooses not to let on.
“Yes,” she whispers. “Mama, look what I found! A hiding place!”
I don’t know what to make of the dark space beneath the bed. I am too tired, and too grateful that Cosi hasn’t gotten herself into trouble, to consider it further.
“This will be my room,” she says cheerfully, “until the war’s over and Papa and Luc come home.”
I suppose it’s not a bad idea. She’ll be undetectable here, as long as Reinhardt or Madame Huet don’t already know about it, though that’s unlikely. I can’t hide her under the dust ruffle forever.
“All right,” I say. “Is it cold in there?”
“A little,” she says, “but I’ll be fine.”
“Here,” I continue, pulling the cover off my bed. “Take this blanket.” I lower it into the dark space below the floor, and she wraps it around her small body. “Knock if you need anything, and I’ll help you open the hatch.”
“I will,” she says. “Good night, Mama.”
“Good night, sweet one. Ne t’envole pas, mon petit oiseau.”
Don’t fly away, my little birdie. I secure the floorboards back in place and climb into bed. We’ve survived our first day in our castle on the rue Cler.
* * *
—
SUN STREAMS THROUGH the window the next morning. I open my eyes briefly, then close them again. For a luscious moment, in that strange place between sleep and waking, I have no idea where I am. But then reality creeps in like a cancer, and I remember everything, every terrifying detail. I sit straight up in bed. Everything aches, especially my legs.
“Cosi,” I whisper. Is she okay?
I kneel down and pry the hatch open, and there is my little girl looking up at me. The morning light pierces through the dark space below, and she squints a little until her eyes adjust. “How long have you been awake?” I ask. “Did you knock?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve been up for a while. I don’t know how long. I wanted to let you sleep.”
I extend my arm and help her up into the room. “How is it possible that my daughter is an actual angel, sent from heaven?” I say, smiling.
But she doesn’t return my smile. She looks horrified. “Mama, what…happened to you?” She runs to me and points to my face. “There’s blood on your cheek.”
I look down at my dress and see the torn bodice, which I’d forgotten about. “It’s nothing, nothing at all, honey,” I say, placing my hand over my chest. “Don’t you worry. I’m just fine.”
“Did the bad man do that to you?” she asks, touching my arm lightly.
“Don’t you worry, love,” I say quickly. “Now, I suppose I ought to find something to wear and some breakfast for us.”
She smiles. “Princesses get hungry.”
“Yes, they do.”
* * *
—
AFTER COSI IS safe in her little room beneath the floor, I venture out to the hallway. The door to Reinhardt’s bedroom is open, and I’m relieved to see that he isn’t there. Madame Huet has obviously already made the bed. The pillows are fluffed, and the coverlet pulled tight. Did she see my blood on the sheets?
Cautiously, I walk into the living area. I’m grateful not to see his shoes by the door. Just then, I notice something I didn’t see before: an interior lock bolted to the door. For some reason, it isn’t latched, so I jiggle the handle on the chance that it might open, but it doesn’t. I sigh. Obviously locked from the outside.
“Don’t bother,” Madame Huet says behind me.
Startled, I turn around to find her standing a few feet away.
“I…I was only…” I begin to say, attempting a response.
“Only trying to escape?” The older woman rolls her eyes at me. “Pointless. When he leaves, he locks the door from the outside. When he’s home, he locks it from the inside. And only the two of us have the key.” I search her face, looking for any fragment of kindness, but am unsuccessful.
“Now,” she continues, turning toward the kitchen. “I suppose you must be hungry.”
I nod.
She notices my torn dress and frowns. “In the closet in the second bedroom, you will find a change of clothes, and any undergarments you’ll need are in the dresser. They belonged to the others. But surely you’ll find something that will fit. Reinhardt likes his women looking smart.”
I turn to see about finding a new dress, as the housekeeper clears her throat. “Take a bath first, for heaven’s sake. Towels are in the cabinet beneath the sink. Don’t dawdle. Breakfast will be ready in a half hour.”
I make my way to the other bedroom and open the closet, which smel
ls of a nauseating mix of assorted perfumes. I run my hand along the dozens of dresses and various shawls and nightgowns inside. Whose were these? What did Madame Huet mean by “the others”? Where are they now? I lift the hanger of a striking red dress and hold it up to my body. It’s about my size, and very fashionable. Just the sort of thing I might have worn on a date with Luc. It feels as if a decade has passed since that night together, or maybe a century, and yet the thought of it still makes my heart swell.
I examine the red dress more carefully and see that the neckline is far too low-cut, so I put it back. I consider others until I finally settle on a simple blue dress, belted at the waist.
Inside the dresser drawers I find an assortment of neatly folded lingerie and an array of panties, some silk, which I’d never been able to afford. I try not to think about the other bodies who wore these things. I quickly select a few items and shudder as I close the drawer on the dark secrets it keeps.
I draw a bath as Madame Huet instructed and plunge into the tub. No amount of soap can take away the horror of last night, but it feels good to be clean again. I dry off, put on the new dress, and head to the dining room, where the housekeeper is waiting.
“Much better,” she says with approval, pointing to my chair, but I don’t sit down.
“I’m sorry, Madame Huet,” I say as sweetly as I can. “It’s just that…I’m not feeling well today. I’m sure you can understand. I’d prefer to take my breakfast in my room this morning.”
An obvious creature of habit, she is displeased by my request.
“You see,” I say, “I have a…sensitive stomach, and I’d hate, ever so much, to soil this beautiful rug.”
“I understand,” she says quickly. “I’ll be back with a tray.”
Five minutes later, I return to Cosi, who enjoys her first proper meal in our castle.
* * *
—
REINHARDT DOESN’T COME home that night, or the next. I am told by Madame Huet that he has been called to the south for an urgent matter. I hope he never comes back, but he does, and I endure more of his terror. He is sometimes rough and brutal, and sometimes emotional, asking me to hold him like a mother would a little boy. I do as he says, always while transporting myself elsewhere in my mind. When I am with Reinhardt, I am not there. Sometimes I even feel as if my spirit is detached from my body in such a real way that in certain moments, it’s as if I’m actually standing above the bed watching him as he rapes me.
I hate it with every bone in my body. But as the months pass, I come to anticipate his patterns and do what I need to do to please him. This is how we will survive, Cosi and me.
We have a certain rhythm to our days. I almost always manage to bring her something for breakfast and smuggle her to the bathroom. Lunch is more difficult, but there is a window during Madame Huet’s afternoon nap to sneak something from the pantry. Cosi’s little room is fairly well stocked with dry goods like oats and nuts. She was particularly happy with the bag of raisins I found in the back of the pantry. I also cautiously collected other items of comfort for her from around the house: A pillow and an extra blanket from one of the spare bedrooms that would never be missed. A flashlight from Reinhardt’s drawer for dark nights, and a stack of books and magazines. When I found a ball of yarn, then paired it with two skewers from the kitchen for knitting needles, she immediately set out to knit Monsieur Dubois a scarf. It’s almost done.
We figured out some of the more practical problems, too. I repurposed a lone bucket on the balcony for more water storage, just in case. And, while she hasn’t needed to use it yet, a bowl for a toilet—and some paper, should there be an emergency in the night or when I wasn’t in the room.
Yes, we are managing in this prison of ours. Cosi busies herself drawing and writing in her journal or making believe in her imaginary world, but I know she is growing weary of living this way. I am, too.
Isolated from the world outside our windows, I have no idea of the state of France, or of the world. Hitler might have taken up residence in Versailles for all I know. But I don’t think so. Reinhardt seems more anxious than ever. The phone rings at all hours of the night, and he wants less of me, which is the greatest relief, and also my greatest concern.
I think about the others before me that Madame Huet has alluded to more than a few times. Where did they go when he lost interest in them?
I need to hold on a bit longer, keep his interest, until the war’s over. France will be liberated, and with it, Cosi and me. If soldiers can fight in the battlefield, I can fight here.
When I lie awake at night, I think of ways we might escape, but Reinhardt’s prison is impenetrable, except, say, by suicide. After his assaults, I limp back to my room, then open the window and gaze longingly at the cobblestone streets below. I could just…jump, and end this pain forever. But then I always think of my sweet Cosi, cuddled up with Monsieur Dubois in her little room under the floorboards, and I know I must keep on.
Some days are harder than others. Like when Madame Huet finds a raisin on the floor of my bedroom.
“What’s this?” she asks, reaching down and picking it up for inspection. “Is this a…raisin?”
“I don’t know.”
“It is,” she says. “How did it get here?”
“I have no idea.”
“I only use raisins for Monsieur Kurt’s muesli, but he hasn’t requested that in months.” She looks at me suspiciously. “Have you been stealing from my kitchen?”
“No,” I say. “Of course not.”
Just the same, she reports the raisin incident to Reinhardt later that night. Afterward, he pulls off his belt and whips me with it. “Little thief,” he shouts. “A lashing for every raisin. How many did you take? How many?”
I beg him to stop, but he doesn’t relent until I slump over on the floor. Afterward, my back is left bloodied and bruised. Madame Huet doesn’t apologize, but she does bring an ice pack to my bedroom that night. And after that, I have the feeling that things have shifted between us. While I will never trust her, I like to believe that some of the ice in her heart has begun to melt.
Christmas comes and goes like any other day. It doesn’t snow, but frozen rain pelts the bedroom window. There will be no presents for Cosi, nor Papa’s challah, warm from the oven. Reinhardt departs in the early hours of the morning to the south, which is, perhaps, the greatest present of all.
January bleeds into February, and Cosi and I forge on as best we can. By March, with news from Reinhardt that the Allies are losing their handle on Europe, our spirits plummet. While the human spirit may be capable of enduring most anything, it cannot carry on without hope—and our stores are rapidly depleting.
I see it in Cosi’s eyes. Life has gone from a joyful adventure to a dark disappointment, an exhausting labyrinth with no end. Just as I, on late nights after suffering Reinhardt’s assaults, stare longingly out the window to the cobblestone streets below contemplating a swift end to my pain, Cosi considers her own exit strategies. One day, minutes before Reinhardt, always punctual for dinner, is due home, Cosi wanders into the hallway and stands, staring at me defiantly. Fortunately, Madame Huet is busy in the kitchen, and I am able to whisk Cosi back into the bedroom before Reinhardt’s return.
“What if they’d seen you?” I scold, blinking back tears.
Her cheeks, once rosy, have grown ashen over the months. “What if they did?” she cries. “Maybe they’ll send me away! Anything would be better than being trapped in this room.”
Tears sting my eyes for my daughter’s pain. I notice the way she watches the birds fly by outside the window—creatures with more freedom than she has.
“My sweet girl,” I say, kneeling down beside her. “I know you are suffering, and I hate it so. But believe me when I say that what lies beyond this is far, far worse than you can imagine.”
She nods, staring off in
to a corner of the room despondently, before I tilt her chin back to me. “Don’t fly away yet, little birdie,” I say through tears. “I know it’s hard, but you’ll fly again, someday. I promise.”
Her small smile is enough to fortify me with hope as I tuck her into the dark space beneath the floor, even if my heart is already heavy with a terrifying secret I’ve kept to myself for months now. I am pregnant, and I won’t be able to hide it much longer.
* * *
—
WHEN I FINALLY tell Reinhardt, he laughs at first, which frightens me, but then a stillness comes over him. He walks to me and places his hand on my belly. I tremble, as I always do, at his touch. But he instructs me not to be scared. “My heir,” he says as I shudder inwardly.
The baby growing inside of me is as much mine as it is his, and yet I am torn with worry. How will I ever be able to explain to him or her who their father really is?
In some ways, the pregnancy is a blessing. After learning the news, Reinhardt leaves me alone, for the most part. But if I’d expected any warmth from Madame Huet, I was mistaken. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she had said with repugnance. “You’re not the first one he’s impregnated.”
Cosi has noticed my growing belly, of course, so I have no choice but to tell her, and she’s delighted. Each morning, she nestles her head on my belly and talks to the baby in whispers. “Do you think he’ll like me?” she asks one morning after breakfast, nibbling scraps of food I’ve smuggled back.
“Him?”
She nods. “I’ve always wanted a little brother.”
I pause to consider who this child could be, studying Cosi’s big eyes, so filled with love and kindness, just like her father’s. Could the son of an evil man be born…good?
I turn to the door, suddenly, when I hear the doorbell ring. “Stay put,” I whisper to Cosi as I peer into the hallway to have a look.
