They clung to each other, slept together, and played together. They had no mother, no father, no brothers, no religion, no surname; all they knew was that they were sisters, Ruda and Rebecca. Protected by being a pair, they fought as one.
In comparison to the other inmates, the twins were fed well. They were given not only clean clothes but toys, and their childish laughter tore into the tortured minds of the rest of the inmates. Men and women clung to the wire meshing that segregated these special children and screamed abuse at them. They hated them because they were playing. Some mothers clung on in desperation to see the faces of their children, and some crept out into the freezing night, and twisted their rags into ropes to hang themselves with.
But the twins who were old enough to understand knew it would only be a short time before the innocent laughter stopped. They knew what was to come. They had seen the twins carried back to their bunks in the dead of night from the hospital. They had seen the tiny, broken bodies lifted from the stretchers, disoriented by the drugs and chemicals that had been pumped into their young veins. Those who knew wept in silence, because they knew that one day it would be their turn.
Gradually even the new inmates, the fresh arrivals, the ones as young as Ruda and Rebecca, began to understand. When the nurse called out the numbers to go to the experiment wing, they trembled in fear.
Papa Mengele had a particular liking for the two tiny girls; he singled them out regularly, to the jealousy of the other children. They had sweets, occasionally even chocolate.
Mengele was fascinated by the way they interacted. Rebecca, slow to talk, began a sentence and Ruda completed it. They often spoke and moved in unison. Their closeness absorbed him, and for many weeks he simply watched them play together.
Ruda reached out and held Luis's hand, clenching it tightly, as the words and sentences were dragged painfully from her memory. At times her voice was so low he had to bend over to hear her.
"She was always smiling. He even let her play with his precious white gloves; she would sit on his knee and hug and kiss him, and he said she could call him 'Papa.' But his eyes, Luis, his eyes were like the Devil's, and he would stare at me...I was afraid of him, I tried to warn her, I didn't trust him, and he knew it, too. I was always afraid of him, but Rebecca had no fear, and then, one day, he said he was going to show her something pretty. I tried to stop her, and she slapped me, said to leave her alone, she was going with her papa to see something nice, and she held his hand, and left me..."
Ruda got up, went to the window and stared out, her hands hanging limply at her sides. "She didn't come back for three days. For three days my body burned, my head ached, I screamed with pain. I knew... I felt every single injection they gave her. They were hurting her. Eventually they brought her back, the nurse carried her in, pushed her onto the bunk bed. Her eyes were glazed, she was burning hot, and she just lay there. I didn't know what they had done to her. Her face was bloated, her belly distended, her cheeks were flushed. They didn't call us for a long time. I stole what food I could, slept with her in my arms, warmed her with my body... and just as she was better, able to get up, they came back for her. When they called her number, I took her place. But they knew me, and I was punished for trying to fool them."
Ruda covered her face with her hands, she couldn't tell Luis what they had done to her... but what had been worse was not being with Rebecca, and each day they had promised she would see her soon. They gave her no food, and every day they administered the interminable agonizing X rays, the electrodes attached to her head, the drugs. They burned her insides, kept on asking her questions she didn't understand, the same question over and over: "Tell us what your sister is doing, tell us... if you tell us you will be given sweets."
Ruda sobbed, wringing her hands. "I didn't know what they wanted, I didn't understand. I hurt so much, I was in such terrible, terrible pain, all I did was cry... Luis, they hurt me so much, and then... then they took me to this little room, locked me inside, all alone, nobody came to see me, nobody gave me any food... and then fresh pains began, my head, my arms, my knees were on fire. I screamed, louder and louder, begging them to stop, to stop hurting her."
Luis leaned closer. "I don't understand..."
She almost screamed it, her face purple with rage: "I felt what they were doing to her, I felt every pain. I knew what they were doing to her, because I felt it." She gave a sobbing laugh, and began pacing around the trailer.
"Papa was very pleased with me. They came to me then, and I was carried into another room. They gave me hot milk and cookies, and kept on telling me what a good girl I was."
Ruda stared from the trailer window, then pressed her head against the cold windowpane. "They bandaged my knees, put ointment on my legs and stomach, dressed me in clean clothes. Then they took me into his office, and made me sit in front of him, he had... a—" She turned back to Luis: "telephone, and he was smiling at me. They were playing music on a gramophone. He spoke to someone, told them to begin. Oh, Luis, I screamed out — my head, I said they were hurting my head, then my stomach. The more I cried out in agony, the more agitated he became, shouting into the phone, again... again, until I fell to the floor. Then he replaced the phone, picked me up and sat me on his knee, told me what a good girl I was. Then she came in..."
"Your sister?" asked Luis.
"No. Papa's assistant. She came in, and he said to her: This is the strong one. Say hello, Ruda, say hello to..."
Ruda slumped onto the bench, unable to continue. Luis reached out and drew her into his arms.
"Did you ever see her again?"
She whispered: "Through the glass window... they used to show me Rebecca through the glass. Her face was like a stranger's, she was fatter, more bloated, but she still tried to smile at me. Then they would draw the curtain, and she would be gone. The nurses told me that if I was a good girl, if I could tell them what Rebecca was thinking, they wouldn't hurt her anymore."
Luis held her close, his cheek resting against hers. She kept staring ahead, whispering. "You remember the silk scarves? The old magician? That's where I learned it, Luis, they said they wouldn't hurt her if I could name the colors, and I used to try so hard, try to tell them what they wanted to know, but they would never let me see her..."
"But why, what did any of it prove?"
"They wanted me to read her mind, they showed her all these color charts, cards, and... and I failed, I couldn't get it right. So many, they wanted so many. When I failed they would burn me, make me try again, and I did, because then they didn't hurt her; if they had, I would have known, but she wouldn't concentrate. I'd always been able to think for her, talk for her, but she didn't concentrate hard enough. And then one day I could see them clearly, one color after another. Papa applauded and shouted, and they let me see her. They told me I was a good girl, that I had saved my sister and if I continued to be a good girl she would not be hurt."
"Did they continue to torture you?"
She nodded. "Not so much — but they would not let me hold her. I was kept all by myself, but you know, I knew she was being taken care of, so it was all right. But then, I got so tired I couldn't, I couldn't do it. They took her away, it was my fault." Her voice was hardly audible. "They hurt her... but all I could feel was her terror."
Luis felt so inadequate, he held Ruda tightly. "You listen to me. From now on, when something hurts you, when you remember, you tell me. Because no ghost is going to touch you. I love you, Ruda, do you hear me? You have done no wrong, you have done nothing wrong, you can't blame yourself, you were just a child."