“Please! I beg you! Do not take her! She is my only, my first child! She does not deserve to die! She has done nothing! Leave her be! Please!! I’m Begging y-“ The young Jewish woman’s words are cut short as the slug rips through her skull, followed by the surge of blood gushing down her dirty wool sweater. I shove her limp body off my feet and back away in disgust.

“What shall I do with the infant sir?” The guard stands in front of me awaiting his orders. His arms cradle the newborn Jew. She stares at me with shiny brown eyes and has yet to cry. I look into her face. A pause.

“Itzhak.”

“Yes sir.”

“As of this moment you are relieved of duty. Go home to your wife.”

“s-sir?” he stutters.

“Give the Infant to me. I will dispose of it personally.” I take my eyes off her to raise my eyebrow toward the man in front of me. “Have I confused you?” His mouth parts slightly, before looking up from the floor.

“No sir.” He roughly thrusts her into my hands, and stalks away through the opening in the wall.

I turn towards the gas chamber, no longer tuned out from the shrieks coming from within. I watch vacantly as the Zyklon B sprays through the ceiling onto the Jews inside. There would be none containing life within the minute. The shrieks die down almost instantly. I twist uncomfortably and head for the exit.

The babe begins wailing in my arms, tears streaming down her pudgy face, sniffing, sputtering, and choking violently. I stare down in shock. “shh...you must silence yourself.” She squints and looks up to me. I gently rock her, humming an old lullaby as she quiets and closes her eyes. I need a nursing mother. One I can trust.

Walking quickly I take the long, but usually empty, route to my furnished quarters, dismissing anyone who crosses my path. I close the door quickly and lock it, the baby still in my arms. I swiftly scan the room for any immediate threat, and let out a deep breath.

From under the desk in the middle of the room, I pull out a basket that once held many different varieties of sausage and cheese given to me by my lost wife. From the couch, bed, and bathroom, I salvage pillows, blankets, and towels, arranging them into a makeshift crib, and gently set the child down, supporting her head on a folded soft towel.

The phone is next. I dial the number and listen to it ring.

“Yes.”

“This is Commander Ivan. Transport the Jewish woman in cellblock b-8 to my quarters immediately. The one who recently bore a child.”

“..Yes.”

I hang up and wait patiently, watching the small human sleep. She is hidden behind the couch where I can only see a portion of her. I don’t have to wait long before the door is knocked and I answer. The timid Jewish woman is hollow eyed and vacant. She is pushed in mercilessly before being snapped at by her escort to follow orders or be shot.

“Thank you. You may leave us now.” I tell the guard with a smile. He flinches and shuts the door quickly. I walk behind the still female and lock the door with a loud click. She jumps. “What is your name?” I ask calmly, circling around her.

“…I-Ida…Ida.” She is shaking uncontrollably.

“Ida. That’s a very pretty name Ida.” She cringes. “Sit.” I order and gesture to the couch in front of us. She does, and I follow her, sitting beside her and hunching over. “ I am not going to hurt you Ida. I give you my word as a Commander.” I take her quivering hand. “look at me.” she does. The fear screaming from her eyes. “Ida, you are to answer a simple question with a simple answer.” She furrows her brow and nods. I take a breath.“Are you still nursing?”

She nods slowly. “y-yes..”

“From this day onward, you are my personal servant. You will sleep here, eat here, and never leave here unless under my specific orders. You will say nothing of our conversations or any action that takes place within these walls. Do you understand?”

Her eyes widen. “Ye-Yes sir.”

My shoulders lower in relief. I reach around the sofa and gently bring the basket over my head and onto my lap. Only her Face is Exposed, sleeping. Ida’s Hands Fly to her Gaping mouth as she inhales. Tears begin to leak from her eyes.

“This.” I begin, “is a newborn Jewish girl. You are to look after her while I am away. I don’t believe I need to go into detail about why this must be kept secret.” She shakes her head, eyes watering. “This is between you and I ." I stand.

“what-“ She starts, holding the basket in her lap. “what is her name?” She is smiling, wet stains running into her mouth.

I stop. “Name her.” I turn around and head for the door. Before closing it, I hear in a quite whisper: “ You are the luckiest one of us all, Elisheva.”