Anna stood in front of the mirror, applying mascara to her eyelashes. As she glanced up to appraise her work, the gaunt skull of a woman stared back at her, the sunken black eyes full of accusation. Anna blinked. Once, twice. But the images of emaciated prisoners kept haunting her. Murderer, one of the ghosts called out. Betrayer of humanity, another one chimed in. Scum.
MurdererBetrayer of humanityScumAnna stepped back from the mirror and slipped on the simple but elegant black two-piece suit Doctor Tretter’s ration cards had bought her. The pencil skirt ended mid-calf and showed off her beautiful calves in the new pumps with a sturdy two-inch heel. The jacket was tailored, with shoulder pads and peplums, making her waist look impossibly tiny.
She did a turn, and was satisfied with the
