Killers aren't always assassins. Sometimes, they don't even have blood on their hands.

The Wilhelm Gustloff was pregnant with lost souls conceived of war. They would crowd into her belly and she would give birth to their freedom.

Per aspera ad astra, Papa,' I whispered. Through hardship to the stars.

What had human beings become? Did war make us evil or just activate an evil already lurking within us?

But unlike Mama, I would not go to heaven. My secrets padlocked the gates. I'd be a torn kite stuck in the dead branches of a tree, unable to fly.

But how can they just decide that we're animals? They don't even know us," I said.
"We know us," said Mother. "They're wrong. And don't ever allow them to convince you otherwise. Do you understand?