Wednesday, March 24, 1941
8:13 a.m.
"My stomach churns.
Hunger.
It must be, or at least I imagine that's what it is. I've learned to tune it out for the most part, as with the many other frivolities that have plagued me for the past few months.
But I'm free now, free of all of it. At one time, I would cry myself to sleep in hunger as Ima tried to soothe me with old lullabies. Now, I instead stare blankly at the scattered crumbs of burnt bread that lay in front of me. Everything's changed. No longer do I feel the bitter cold of the basement floor creeping through my tattered pink jumper, nor do I hear the constant pleading from Ezra that we need to go out looking for Aba again.
How long has he been gone now? . . . That's right, it's been three days. I fear the worst has happened. Aba, if you're still out there, please come home. We need you.
God, the world's turned upside down. I'm not even phased by the cries of my own baby sister. I hand her her favorite toy, now the only one left, just to stop the whimpering; she clutches it tightly. A stuffed bear, with my sister's name etched into the left foot: Leah."
8:24 a.m.
The moaning's finally stopped, thank God. I've become hollow--hollow to emotion, hollow to empathy, but most importantly, hollow to pain.
That's right, I've done what is necessary. Necessary to survive in this wretched place. But still, I can't seem to get them out of my head. The sirens . . . So loud and discordant, like a drilling in my brain. Impossible, this would be the third time in six days. I know by now that I can't trust myself with these things, but there they are again.
There's something else . . . It's my name. Nessa.
Nessa. Nessa.
NESSA!"
9:07 a.m.
"Ezra and I continue to search the rubble. Still nothing.
As we lift up yet another section of the fallen roof, I immediately freeze. Sticking out from underneath all the debris, I can just barely make out the image of what's in front of me. Still, it's more than enough. A single appendage from a stuffed animal, and it reads: Leah."