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Or have they drugged me to ensure I don’t bleed, she asked herself. Or did Horst manage to get me pregnant?

She closed her eyes in pain as the full implications dawned on her. They hadn’t used protection — how could they, when contraception was almost unavailable save for older couples with more than three children? Horst could easily have gotten her pregnant, before or after the marriage. And if she was pregnant… she swallowed, hard. The SS might not harm the baby — the parents were both of good bloodlines — but they would certainly take the child away.

And I’ve been half-starved, she thought. My period might be delayed anyway.

She worked her way through the logic, slowly. If she wasn’t pregnant, she’d only been in Germanica for a week, more or less. But if she was pregnant…

A dull thump echoed through the room. She looked up, alarmed. There was a hissing sound, right above her; moments later, a tiny hatch appeared in the ceiling. Seconds later, a stream of water poured from overhead and splashed down to the floor. The puddle spread rapidly until the bitterly cold water was splashing against her bare feet. Gudrun shivered, pulling her feet up until she was sitting on the bed; the water kept rising as more and more poured down into the room. She cursed under her breath, remembering how the matrons had used to push girls into the swimming pool, then forced her legs into the cold water. There was no way to avoid taking a swim.

She started to shiver as the water rose higher. It was cold, so cold… to her horror, the water just kept rising, threatening to drown her. She found herself kicking to stay afloat, her body rising until it was pushed against the ceiling, the water bubbling at her mouth… did they mean to kill her? Panic fluttered at the back of her mind as she gasped for air, struggling to pull one last breath into her body. She was going to die in the cell…

…And then the water level dropped so rapidly that she banged her leg against the bed, then landed badly on the wet floor. A grate had opened nearby, draining the water out of her cell; Gudrun was too tired to try to open it, even though she doubted it was a way out for her. Her throat hurt badly; she hacked and coughed, spitting up droplets of water she’d swallowed onto the floor. And it was suddenly very — very — cold.

She forced herself to sit upright, wrapping her arms around her legs as cold air blew into the room. Her entire body shivered helplessly, mocking her. The gusts of air — it was hard not to think of them as wind — blasted over her body, coming from portals high overhead that opened and closed randomly. She couldn’t help a flicker of guilt, remembering how she — and most of the other girls — had teased and tormented those who’d been poor swimmers. Perhaps she deserved to suffer…

Because it was safer to tease them than stand up for them, she thought, bitterly. The matrons hadn’t done anything about the bullying. Hell, they’d been bullies themselves. And none of us wanted the matrons looking elsewhere. We were grateful when the matrons picked on the weaker girls.

She ran her hand through her wet hair, knowing there was nothing she could do to straighten it out. The entire Reich was based on bullying, on the strong tormenting the weak… why should the BDM have been any different? And she’d had more than her fair share of torments too… except that wasn’t entirely true. Gudrun’s father could have made real trouble for the matrons, if they’d stepped too far out of line. Perhaps she should have asked him to defend the other girls.

A low rumble ran through the room. The floor hatches opened, spewing water back up and into the room. Gudrun yelped in shock as the water — scalding hot this time — splashed against her bare skin, then jumped back to get out of the way as the water kept rising. But this time it was too hot, burning her as it rose higher… she scrambled back onto the bed, knowing it wouldn’t give her more than minimal protection. And then it started to wash against her feet.

She gritted her teeth, trying not to scream. It wasn’t hot enough to do real damage — she hoped — but it was hot enough to be extremely uncomfortable. And it was still rising, brushing against her knees. She stood on tiptoe, trying to keep as much of herself as she could out of the water, even though she knew it was futile. The water brushed against her thighs, then her breasts, then finally started lapping at her throat. She kicked desperately as her head bumped against the ceiling, hoping — praying — that the water would be released, again, before she drowned. Or was cooked…

…Instead, water started pouring from the ceiling.

She closed her eyes, expecting to drown at any second. But the water level seemed stable… she realised, numbly, that the hot water was being drained as cold water poured from high overhead. The temperature dropped rapidly, so rapidly that she started to shiver within seconds. She tried to remember what she’d been told about hypothermia, but she couldn’t remember anything, beyond the word having been used as a threat in swimming class. It had been enough to make her obey.

And then the water level dropped, again. She found herself sitting on the floor, her entire body shaking helplessly.

They can kill me at any moment, Gudrun thought, as the last remnants of the water drained away into the floor. That had always been true, but now she knew it. They can kill me any time they like.

She shuddered, forcing her body to stand and lean against the wall. Her skin had gone red, as if she’d spent too long in the sun. She knew the colour would fade, that her skin would return to normal, but she didn’t miss the underlying message. It wouldn’t be long before they started inflicting more permanent harm on her, if she refused to talk. Or to help them…

Another low gurgle echoed through the room. Gudrun cursed as the water — warm water, this time — began to bubble up from the floor. It was rising slowly, but surely; she knew, deep inside, that she didn’t have the energy to keep fighting. Part of her just wanted to give in, to let them drown her. It would be a victory, of sorts. The SS wouldn’t have her to parade in front of her former allies. But it would also be a defeat. She would never see Horst again…

She cursed, savagely, then rolled over and drifted on her back. It had been nearly two years since she’d done it — she hadn’t gone swimming since she’d left school — but the old skill was still there. She promised herself, if she survived long enough, that she’d hunt down her old matrons and make sure they suffered for their crimes. Shutting down the BDM wasn’t enough.

And the water level kept rising…

* * *

“She hasn’t broken yet,” Karl Holliston observed.

“No, Mein Führer,” Müller said. “But she’s definitely weakening.”

Karl shrugged. Watching a young girl being pushed to the brink of drowning, time and time again, wasn’t particularly amusing. If Gudrun had been anyone else — a girl unfortunate enough to have the wrong relatives — he would have ordered her exile to Germany East without a second thought. Müller would have bitched about losing his test subject, but Karl would have taken no notice. The camps had plenty of room for SS doctors who forgot who gave the orders.

But Gudrun wasn’t someone else.

He shook his head, feeling a blaze of helpless anger. Displaying Gudrun in front of his supporters — the upper leadership of Germany East — had been a mistake. No one had said anything overtly — not yet — but he knew that some of the Gauleiters had qualms. Gudrun was a young girl, barely old enough to bear children. They’d been raised to protect young women, to treat them as the queens and princesses they were… to issue gentle correction, rather than outright torture. Forcing Gudrun to appear before them, naked and chained, had brought out their protective instincts.