Page 34 of Hearts of Resistance
They’re in German uniforms.They were German soldiers. Or if they weren’t, well, they were doing a damn fine job of acting.
‘What is your name?’ the German demanded, his face so close to hers that she felt the spittle from his mouth land on her skin.
‘Hazel. What is this about?’ she asked in perfect French.
‘Get up!’ he yelled. ‘Get up now!’
He was speaking in French now and she did as he said, reaching for her shoes and getting a kick in the side for her efforts. The room spun as she clutched her side, doubled over and trying her best to straighten even though the breath had been stolen from her body.
‘Move!’
She stumbled, barefoot, leaving her shoes behind and fumbling her way forward. The soldier grabbed her shoulder violently and pushed her against the wall in the hallway.
‘Why are you here?’
Hazel knew that this had to be a drill. Surely this was only a drill? Even if it wasn’t, she knew she had to stick to her story anyway, for the safety of everyone involved. And if it was a drill and she didn’t? Then she’d be sent to the cooler.
‘My family sent me here to stay with friends. They wanted me to be safe.’
‘You are a spy. We know that you aren’t French.’
‘A spy? I’m a Parisian as surely as you’re a German.’ She wiped at her eyes, moist from being woken so abruptly, full of sleep still. She was so tired, her legs ready to buckle beneath her.
‘We’ve searched your apartment and found evidence. Tell us everything or you’ll be shot through the head with the other traitors.’
‘I don’t know what you want from me, or who you’re truly looking for, but I am not a spy. I don’t even know what a spy would do.’ She smiled. ‘Please, sir, I think you have the wrong person.’
He laughed, a cruel sneer that made her fearful of what a real Nazi would be like. ‘Maybe we could use you then, no? You have beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes, just what we’re looking for.’
Hazel looked down, trying to appear embarrassed, thinking maybe she should be flirting with him to get him to be more gentle with her.
‘I am a believer in this Aryan race you Germans talk about. It would be nice to live in a more pure world.’ Just saying the words made her feel sick, but she forced herself to get them out.
‘You expect me to believe that?’ He laughed. ‘Teach that to your fellow French and we might all get along.’
‘May I go now? Or is there anything else I can do to help you with whomever you’re supposed to be looking for?’
There went the cruel laugh again, and she watched as he reached into his pocket. He drew a lighter out and flicked it open and shut, his thumb brushing back and forth against the metal as he smiled at her.
She sucked back a breath, too terrified to take her eyes off him now.
‘This might make you drop the story and tell me the truth.’
Hazel froze as he flicked the top back again, this time igniting it, the orange flame needing more coaxing as he rolled his thumb across the mechanism. His other hand shot up, grabbing her by the throat and shoving her backwards as he held the flame to her face. It was so close to her cheek, so close to burning her skin, to searing into her and leaving a mark that would for ever remind her of this night.
The lick of fire so close made her push her head back into the wall, a futile action as she couldn’t get any further away and he knew it.
‘Tell me. Why are you here? What is your name?’
‘Hazel,’ she whispered as tears clung to her lashes then slowly dropped down her cheeks, streaking across her skin. ‘Please, let me go.’
He held the lighter steady, his breath too close, his body too close, everything about the awful man in front of hertoo damn close.
‘Please stop,’ she begged.
‘What do you know about the Resistance?’ he asked in a low, menacing tone.
‘I don’t know anything. Please, tell me what you want from me, but I can’t answer your question because I don’t know the answer.’
