wordsforhire

14 August 1944

My heart is wracked with pain.  My chest feels like there is a hole inside of it trying to suck me dry from the inside.  I can barely hold my…what is supposed to be a pen: the beloved book my father gave me for my birthday two years ago is gone.  I think I left it back at our hiding place.  I did not have time to grab it when the soldiers rushed inside.  I only hope they did not find it so that those that helped us will not be incriminated by my words.  How could I have been so careless to keep their true names?