Lying in his bed, Stan cursed himself and the world. He’d been at the Charité for weeks, but his progress was much slower than anticipated. Anna visited him every day to keep him company for a few minutes, but he still felt lonely and had too much time to think.
Every time he thought about Piotr and their last minutes, a deep sadness consumed him and he struggled with guilt. It was his fault Piotr remained behind at the camp. His brother had sacrificed his own freedom to give him a chance to heal. And what did he do to repay his generosity? Not heal! At least not fast enough.
That damn leg was still rife with infection. He wasn’t dumb. Despite the fact that nobody told him the truth about his condition, he could see the concern etched into the faces of the doctors and nurse. Anna rarely
