Now Renia saw the results of the beatings. There was no white flesh left on her body, only yellow, blue, and red skin, with bruises black as soot. The bath attendant sobbed, speaking in Polish, caressing and kissing her, full of pity. Her concern brought Renia to tears. Could someone still care about me? Are there Germans left who are capable of compassion? Who is this woman?
“I’ve been imprisoned for two and a half years,” the woman told her. “I’ve spent the last twelve months here. This is an interrogation camp, where they hold people until they’re done with questioning. There are two thousand prisoners at Mys?owice.”
She went on. “Before the war I was a teacher,” “But when the war began, all those suspected of political activity in my town of Cieszyn were arrested. My friends were all imprisoned. I hid for a while but was caught. I too suffered.” She showed Renia the marks on her body, scars from being beaten with chains and having red-hot metal pins shoved under her fingernails. “My two brothers are also here. They’re half dead. They’ve been chained to their beds for six months, constantly guarded, beaten for any little movement. They are suspected of belonging to a covert organization. Terrible things are happening here, unimaginable. Not a day goes by that fewer than ten people are whipped to death. There’s no distinction here between men and women. This camp is for political prisoners. Most will be executed.”
Renia soaked in her bath, all this new information sinking in.
The woman offered to be Renia’s friend. She would get her whatever she needed. “Up to now, I was locked up in a cell, but now I manage the bath,” she told Renia. “I’m still treated like a prisoner, but at least I can walk around the grounds freely.”
Renia was brought into a long room with two metal-mesh-covered windows. Bunk beds lined one wall. Next to the door stood a table for the room monitor, one of the nicer prisoners, who was responsible for cleaning the room. In the corner, a pile of slop bowls, the type used to feed piglets.
The prisoners—including many teachers and society people—surrounded Renia, examined her carefully, and peppered her with questions. Where was she from? Why had she been arrested? How long was she in for? Hearing that she was caught only two weeks ago, they asked about the outside world. Renia felt like a stranger among these women, a mixed group: nice and evil, young and old, accused of both severe and petty crimes. One of them, probably insane, started dancing for her and sang nonsense.
Mean women taunted her. “You just arrived from freedom and already look awful. How will you manage? The hunger is so bad it whistles in your gut. Do you have a slice of bread? Give it to me.”
Renia was taken by one young girl, maybe ten or fifteen, who had a pleasant face. Before they even spoke, she’d developed a fondness for her. This girl stood on the side and stared at Renia. Only later, she found the courage to approach and ask questions. “Are there any Jews left in B?dzin and Sosnowiec?” Mirka was Jewish. She’d been deported from Sosnowiec but, with her sister, jumped off the train. Her sister was badly wounded but lived. Mirka, not knowing what to do, went to the nearby police station. They handed her over to the Gestapo. Her sister was apparently transported to a hospital, but she’d had no word from her; she was probably shot on the spot. Mirka was brought to Mys?owice and had been there for three weeks.
“I have such a passion for life,” said little Mirka, even though she walked around like a zombie. “Maybe the war will end soon. Every night I dream about the prison gate opening and becoming free again.”
Renia comforted her: “The war will end soon. You’ll see, you’ll be free one day.”
“When you’re released, madam, please send me help, anything, even a little food package.”
Mirka eased Renia into prison life, teaching her how to behave, making sure Renia always got a bowl of food and a straw pillow at night.
Then Renia started to leave her soup on the table and whisper to Mirka to take it. “What about you?” Mirka was concerned, but Renia told her not to worry. How she longed to tell her the truth, to prove her own existence.