The blackness encroached around my field of vision as I pulled myself up, eighteen steps, steep as hell.
I finally crested the staircase mostly blind and nauseated, the muscles in my arms and legs screaming for oxygen.
I slumped seated against a wall, heaving watered-down coughs.
There was an empty glass case bolted to the wall above me and I stared up through it to the ceiling and tried not to pass out.
Lidewij crouched down next to me, saying, “You are at the top, that is it,” and I nodded.
I had a vague awareness of the adults all around glancing down at me worriedly;
of Lidewij speaking quietly in one language and then another and then another to various visitors;
of Augustus standing above me, his hand on the top of my head, stroking my hair along the part.
After a long time, Lidewij and Augustus pulled me to my feet and I saw what was protected by the glass case:
pencil marks on the wallpaper measuring the growth of all the children in the annex during the period they lived there,
inch after inch until they would grow no more.
From there, we left the Franks’ living area, but we were still in the museum:
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