It had been a long, grueling day, and Calvin was barely standing. His little body had grown weaker from the constant work, his chest tight and his energy drained. He had collapsed during his task that afternoon—carrying buckets of water from the well—and the others had laughed, while Nanny Elga had stood watching silently, as if it was all part of the game. Her lips had curled in that cruel, knowing way, but she hadn't moved. No punishment. No help. Just cold indifference.
That night, as they sat on their cold, thin mattress, Anna could feel the heat radiating from Calvin's skin. He was burning with fever, and his breathing was shallow. Sweat dampened his hair, and his cheeks were flushed in a way that scared her more than any bruise or cut ever had.
"I can't do it anymore," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm so tired, Anna."
Her heart cracked. She gently brushed his damp hair from his forehead, swallowing the tears that threatened to fall. She couldn't let him suffer like this. She wouldn't let him be broken like the others. Not Calvin. Not her little brother.
That night, she didn't sleep. She sat against the wall, knees pulled to her chest, watching over him like a sentinel. The room around them was silent except for the occasional cough or whimper from another bed. Children twisted in their dreams, haunted even in sleep.
In the early gray of dawn, before the bell clanged and Elga's footsteps echoed through the halls, Anna stood. Her legs ached, but she moved with purpose. She wouldn't wait for orders. Not today.
She walked straight to Nanny Elga's office, her fists clenched at her sides. The corridors were still dim, the air heavy with the scent of mold and damp stone. The walls whispered with the memories of punishments past.
Elga was already there, sitting at her desk, counting coins from the previous day's sales—children's labor turned into silver. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration.
"I want to speak to you," Anna said, her voice shaking, but her words firm.
Elga didn't look up. "What is it now, Anna? You've caused enough trouble for one day."
"I need you to let my brother rest," Anna said, stepping forward. "He can't work today. He's too sick. Please, I'll do his part of the chores. Just... let him sleep."
For a moment, there was silence. The room felt colder than usual, the weight of Anna's request hanging between them. Then Elga finally lifted her eyes. Her stare was sharp, like a knife pressed against the skin.
"You think I'm going to let you both rest while others work?" she asked, her voice ice-cold. "I don't care if he's sick. The work still needs to be done. You are the one who needs to step up."
"I will do it," Anna said, her voice stronger now. "I'll do both our parts. But I'm not letting him go out there again. He's too weak."
Elga stood slowly, walking around the desk. Her boots clicked on the cracked tiles.
"You really think you can outsmart me, don't you?" she hissed. "You think you're special. That you get to choose who suffers and who doesn't."
Anna didn't flinch. "No. I just want to protect my brother."
Elga's lips curled into a thin, cruel smile. "You'll learn. This is the way things are. There's no rest. Not for anyone."
"I'll do whatever it takes," Anna whispered, more to herself than to Elga. "But he's not going out there today."
Elga's eyes narrowed. She stepped closer, close enough that Anna could smell the sour perfume she always wore, like wilted flowers.
"Fine," she said at last, after a long pause. "You'll take his place. But remember this, Anna. You're playing a dangerous game. You're no better than the others who've failed here."
Anna didn't reply. She just turned and walked out, her heart pounding in her chest.
She worked through the morning like a machine, numb to the pain in her arms and the cold that clung to her fingers. She carried water, scrubbed the floors, and cleaned the mess hall, all while pretending her ribs didn't ache from the punch she'd taken two nights before. Each task was a weight, but it was nothing compared to the fear that clawed at her heart.
When she returned to the dorm during the midday break, she found Calvin still lying in bed, his face pale and covered in sweat. He stirred at the sound of her footsteps, blinking groggily.
"Did she... did she say yes?" he whispered.
Anna smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "She did. You can rest today. I'll do both our work."
Calvin's eyes filled with tears, but he turned his face away. "I'm sorry, Anna. I'm always the one you have to protect."
She shook her head gently. "You're my little brother. That's what big sisters do."
As she sat beside him, gently stroking his hair, she knew she had just made herself a target. But in that moment, all that mattered was getting him through another day.
Later, as the sky darkened and the children returned to their bunks, Anna remained alert. She knew Elga. She knew the woman didn't give mercy. There would be consequences. Maybe not today, but soon. Still, the knowledge didn't shake her. She had chosen this. Chosen Calvin. And she would do it again.
In the quiet hours of the night, when the whispers had faded and the cold crept in through the windows, Anna leaned over her brother and whispered into the silence.
"We'll get out of here one day," she said. "I don't know how yet. But I swear, Calvin, we won't stay in this place forever."
His breathing was shallow, but he nodded slightly, his hand reaching for hers.
And in the stillness of that terrible place, that small act of resistance—their love, their hope—was a defiance stronger than any scream.
They were still here. Still together. And still fighting.