No, but he does have trouble sleeping.

The sun is barely shedding light over the courtyard before Franziska is back. It’s the first time I’ve seen her without her features being distorted. She had golden blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and pale ivory skin. The bridge of her narrow nose and cheeks is dotted with a couple of freckles.

She smiles at me, flashing her teeth. They are white and straight, like mine, but they hide behind glossy pink lips.

“Good morning,” she hands me a loaf of bread and another glass of water.

“It’s morning,” I remarked, snatching the bread and scarfing it down in a few chomps. The water follows it. The bread is warm, tasty, and filling. I look at Franziska. Her Hitler youth uniform is ironed, cleaned, and orderly. Her miniature-length cape is pinned with a swastika pin with a white and red background.

“Yes.” She simply replies.

We share an awkward moment of silence as I drink my water. Franziska watches me as if I am her science experiment. A rat in her lab. A human test subject for her source of knowledge…

When I was done, she took my glass and the napkin that was around the bread. When she goes, I stop her. “I have questions.”

“We can talk when I come back,” she promises.

“Come back from what?”

“School,” she replies.

I blushed. “You’re still in school?”

Franziska thinks for a moment. “It’s not like… I graduated from school, but these are classes that talk about our dynasty and our mission to Europe and the rest of the world. Why we’re the master race and why we are destined to be the next greatest empire for thousands of years! It’s all a part of the Hitler Youth program. I’m going to tell you about it tonight.”

She smiles and salutes to me non-politically. “Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Schmidt!”

I had so many questions, and this brain-washed blonde was too infused with her propaganda to give me a moment to chat. From where I was tucked away, I could see her get on her bike and roll away. I sat where I was, now looking at the horse. “This is such horse shit.” Suddenly, I felt like having my surname be of German descent was a curse.

I tried at the knot keeping me in place, but whatever Kraut-magic Franziska was being taught kept me in place. I tugged and tried cutting it, but without any of my gear, I was basically doing nothing. More infuriating was the fact I could see tools in the barn that would have easily cut my bonds off but was too far away to use.

For the most part, I lay hungry and thirsty until it was dusk and Franziska returned. She peddled into the barn and visited me with bread and jam. “I’m thirsty,” I said, grabbing her rations.

“Willst du Wasser?” Her voice was kind of soft when she said this.

“Washer? Washer…? No, no… I’m— wait! Yes! Water. Water!!”

Franziska looked at the farmhouse. “OK. Stay here.”

“…” I stared at her. Of course, I would stay here. I ate the bread and fingered the jam. Nothing had tasted so good before. When she finally returned, I drank like a downed pilot in Africa.

She watched me again, amused with my habits. I wiped my mouth and glared. “You getting off of this or something?”

She shook her head with a slight blush and went to her bike. I was about to complain again, but she returned with a few books. I expected her to start reading me “Mein Kampf,” but I saw they were dictionaries. “I’m going to teach you German.”

“You’re kidding me.”

She shook her head again. She looked quite proud of herself. “I’m hoping that once you speak our language. Your true Muttersprache, you will embrace your calling!”

Franziska brushes her dress and lies on her knees. “Mädchen,” she gestures to herself. “Mädchen.”

“Maidchan.” I repeated.

“No,” she laughed softly like how my kindergarten teacher would. “Maid. Like, French maid.”

We spent about 30 minutes going over basic German, none of which I think I’ll ever use. Knowing how to say “cat” or “owl” doesn’t seem like a regularly used word in daily interactions.

Then, we heard a car pulling up. Franziska looked back and gasped. “Mutter? Jetzt?” She pushed me back and told me to stay put… not that I had any other option. Then, she proceeded to disappear until nightfall. Again, I was thirsty and hungry, but I was able to distract myself with another cloudless night with a brilliant array of twinkling stars and a prominent pale moon. It was easy to hear Franziska as she returned, though.

A white tin and another plate with a half-eaten meal were in her hands. I saw more potatoes, some shredded meat, and a variety of vegetables. “Hast du Hunger?”

“Ja,” I said, assuming she was asking me if I wanted the food. She giggled slightly and handed me the plate and the tin. She then produced a water skin from her waist and gave it to me. I followed every couple of swallows of food with a cup of water, probably sounding like a troglodyte. Nonetheless, Franziska watched me with pure amusement.

“Tomorrow is Wednesday. Meine Mutter wird Lange arbeiten,” she paused and looked at me, studying my flight suit and regarding my headgear in the corner. “Wir besorgen dir ein paar Klamotten.”

“I don’t understand you,” I said, annoyed she was teasing me like this. Franziska laughs, melting my anger slightly.

“My mom is expecting a long day at work tomorrow, so we are going to get you some clothes.”

My jumpsuit was dirty with sweat and blood, not to mention damaged. However, I knew this girl wasn’t doing this for the goodness of her heart, so I asked her why.

“So you can walk around tomorrow night.”

“What if we get caught?”

“Why worry about something that won’t happen?” She counters.

I’m about to argue that we could, but I realized I could maybe find a way to France and escape this weird hostage situation, so I agreed…