I don’t know how but I got through that dreadful week. Every day I was awakened at four to go milk the cow. At six I helped make breakfast. At seven I helped serve breakfast. At eight thirty I was allowed my quarter rations. At nine I helped clean the kitchen. At ten I would trudge up three flights of stairs and down the corridor to Margarete’s room. I would brush out her hair and Cristyne’s. For the first three days of this morning constitution Margarete and Cristyne remained rather quiet. It didn’t last.

“Marina,”

“Yes?”

“Oh see, that won’t do. You’re living with the servants now and I think that means you should address us, ‘yes, Miss.’ Go ahead, now, try again. Marina,”

“My stay with the servants is only temporary, Margarete,” I said through clenched teeth. She slapped me again.

“You will address me, ‘yes, Miss.’ Marina,” Fury boiled in my chest, but I knew there was nothing I could do if I wanted to get out of the servants’ quarters. Frustrated tears fell from my eyes as I said, “Yes, miss?”