Anna's knees were scraped raw, stinging every time she bent them. She had slipped while cleaning the long stairwell, and when the bucket spilled, Nanny Elga had whipped her with a belt in front of everyone.
"You think this is a game?" Elga had screamed, her voice like a blade. "You think you get to rest?"
Anna didn't cry. Not then. She had learned not to. Crying made them hit harder.
The children had watched in silence, eyes wide and lips pressed tight. No one dared speak up. They knew better. The sharp sound of the belt cracking against her back had echoed through the narrow hall, a warning to all. When Elga finally stormed off, muttering curses under her breath, Anna picked herself up and limped to the shadows where she could catch her breath unnoticed.
Later that night, she sat on the floor of the cold dormitory, her head against the cracked wall, holding Calvin close. His body felt too light in her arms, like the warmth was draining from him. His face was pale, and he hadn't eaten all day. He had collapsed during his morning chore and had been dragged back to the dorm like a sack of laundry, tossed onto his mattress without care.
"Does it still hurt?" she whispered, brushing his damp hair away from his forehead.
He nodded slightly, his lips chapped and dry. "My chest... it feels tight."
Anna pressed her hand gently against his heart, feeling the faint flutter of it under her fingers. Too fast. Too weak. Her throat tightened.
"I'm going to get us out of here," she promised again, the words barely audible.
Calvin didn't respond. His breathing was shallow, and his eyes remained closed. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, her own breath slowing to match his, willing him to keep going, to stay with her.
Dinner that night was a slice of dry bread and half a potato. The kitchen reeked of boiled cabbage, though none had been served. The strong children elbowed their way to the front of the line, hoarding food from the weak. Anna had to push and dodge just to get something for Calvin. Her ribs ached from the beating earlier, but she gritted her teeth and shoved her way to the front.
"Back off," one of the older girls snapped, jabbing an elbow into Anna's side.
"I just need a piece—my brother—"
"Don't care," the girl hissed, grabbing an extra portion when the cook looked away.
When Anna finally reached the counter, the cook—a wiry man with a permanent scowl—slapped the bread onto a chipped plate and tossed a half-cut potato beside it.
"No seconds," he growled before she could speak.
She turned and hurried back across the crowded room, careful not to trip or let anyone see what she held. The food was barely enough for a child, but she clutched it like it was treasure.
As she neared her corner, a taller boy stepped into her path. Markus. His eyes glinted with cruel amusement.
"What's that?" he asked, reaching for the plate.
"That's for my brother!" she shouted, pulling it back.
The boy punched her in the ribs.
She crumpled to the floor, the plate slipping from her hands. The bread fell onto the dirt, the potato rolling away. Markus snatched the potato and stuffed it in his mouth before walking off, laughing.
No adult stopped him.
No one ever did.
Anna gasped for air, curling around the pain in her side. One of her arms shook as she reached for the bread, dusting it off with trembling fingers. She limped back to Calvin, who had managed to sit up halfway.
"I got you something," she whispered, placing the dirty slice in his hands.
He took it without a word, chewing slowly. Anna watched him eat, ignoring the empty pit gnawing inside her own belly. She'd stopped being hungry a long time ago. Now there was only the need to survive. For him.
When he finished, he leaned his head against her shoulder. His body was still trembling.
"Do you think… they'll ever let us go?" he murmured.
Anna stared at the cracked ceiling. A water stain had spread across it like a broken flower.
"No," she said honestly. "Not unless we run."
He didn't answer. She wasn't sure if he was awake anymore.
She stayed up most of the night, holding him, listening to the soft wheeze of his breath. She couldn't fall asleep. She was afraid he wouldn't wake up.
—
The next morning, Calvin couldn't get out of bed. His lips were blue, and his fingertips cold.
Anna panicked. She touched his face again and again, hoping it would warm beneath her hand. When she stood and ran to the door to find someone—anyone who would help—Elga blocked her path.
"He needs a doctor," Anna said, breathless. "Please."
Elga glanced at the boy, lying limp on the mattress.
"He's lazy," she said coldly. "He wants to get out of his chores."
"He can't breathe!"
Elga rolled her eyes. "If he dies, there'll be one less mouth to feed."
Anna stared at her, stunned.
"You can't mean that."
"I do," Elga snapped. "Now get back to work. If I catch you slacking again, you'll be sleeping outside."
Anna didn't move.
Elga's hand shot out, striking her across the face. Anna stumbled back.
"I said, get out!"
Anna ran. Not because she wanted to obey. She ran because the rage was too much, and if she stayed, she might scream and make it worse. She collapsed beside the water pump and let it wash over her, the cold spray numbing her skin. She wanted to cry, but she didn't.
Instead, she sat there, shivering, trying to think.
Calvin was dying. He was twelve years old, and his lungs were failing. If she didn't do something soon, he'd be gone.
That night, she sneaked into the storage shed. It was forbidden, but she knew there were supplies—old clothes, canned food, and maybe medicine. She pried open the door with a rusty spoon she had hidden under her mattress for weeks.
Inside, the shed smelled of mold and dust. She rifled through boxes, trying to be quiet. Her hands landed on a dusty first-aid kit. She opened it with trembling fingers. Most of the contents were expired, but there was a bottle of cough syrup, half-full, and a small pack of painkillers.
She grabbed it and turned to leave—only to freeze.
Elga stood in the doorway.
"What do you think you're doing, rat?"
Anna clutched the kit to her chest. "Please. He's dying. I just wanted to help him."
Elga's face twisted. "Thief!"
She lunged forward and slapped Anna so hard she fell into the crates. The bottle rolled away and shattered.
"You little brat. Ungrateful, filthy—"
Anna didn't remember much after that. Just pain. And then darkness.
When she woke, she was back in the dorm, lying beside Calvin, her face swollen, ribs screaming. Someone must've dragged her back.
But beside her, Calvin's chest still rose and fell.
She turned to him, her voice hoarse.
"I'll find a way," she whispered. "I swear."
And this time, she meant it with every broken piece of her.