The next morning, Ursula felt like she’d been run over by a truck. Images of executions had invaded her dreams. She left the building in the wee hours of the morning, after warning Tom once again to be absolutely silent when neither she nor Anna were at home. Thankfully, Frau Weber from next door was still asleep, and Ursula reached the street without further inquisition.
At the prison, life – or rather death – had run its course. Ursula found a vastly decreased lot of distraught prisoners trying to forget the terrible things that had happened during the night. She looked into exhausted faces filled with horror, grief, or apathy.
Even her colleagues from the night shift stood on wobbly legs and hurried to change into their civilian clothes as if this would separate them from their haunti
