Righteous Fury: Sequel to The Mistress of Auschwitz (Book 2 of 3) by Terrance Williamson

Author:Terrance Williamson [Williamson, Terrance]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve:

Cucina

I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat.

Winston Churchill

What a day, Eleonore thought as she returned to her room later that evening. After Mrs. Meyers’ emotional display in the morning, the mistress of the manor had resumed her propriety and remained as withdrawn as ever.

Turning on the little lamp between her bed and the window, Eleonore paused when the light came on, remembering the events of last night. Quickly, she shut the light off again and, carefully, used her finger to make the slightest opening in the curtains. Certain that she had not been spotted, Eleonore made a larger opening and pressed her face against the glass as she looked to the left and to the right and sighed her relief when she saw no one.

I’m starving, Eleonore held her stomach as it growled, but then felt conflicted for such a selfish thought. I’d probably be livid if I heard anyone else exaggerating about their hunger, Eleonore mused, recalling her time in the standing cell. I can eat in the morning, Eleonore thought as she looked longingly at the bed. I haven’t slept since I arrived here. At this point, I don’t even care all that much if Jung is, in fact, out there. I just need to rest.

Grumbling as she struggled to undress and put on her nightgown, Eleonore felt the aches and pangs of hunger. Not even a week had passed since she had left the camps, but a part of her wanted to remember what it truly was to be hungry. She didn’t want to forget the fear, the anxiety, the starvation, and, yes, even the death. These would serve as testaments and permanent reminders to refine her character. Financial stress seemed so trivial and the pressures of society appeared so flimsy in comparison to the suffering at Auschwitz. Economic status counted for nothing and, with material possessions stripped, all that mattered was character, ingenuity, and chance. She would honor those who had been murdered by living as selflessly as she was able.

She found it odd thinking about her old life and how concerned she was with the frivolous. How inconsequential it now appeared when she recalled being frustrated at a poor design for a dress, or that she didn’t have her brand of tea, or that she worried at all about money. Her horrific experience at Auschwitz had, at least, shown her what was important in life and nothing mattered more than the relationships she had with others.

Also, Eleonore was a living declaration to the atrocities. She was the warning of the evil that had swelled in the heart of her beloved country and could rise again if people weren’t careful. She hated how difficult it was for her to talk openly about the camps. While she had no difficulty attesting to the fact that they did exist, explaining the details of the hospital, or how the Hoess family lived in such luxury, or the conditions at the barracks, or the extended time she spent in the isolated cell caused her the greatest anxiety.

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