Marta was enjoying so much hearing about little Ezra. It made her heart warm when she learned he was just as sweet and loving as a child as he was now, but it didn't surprise her. Marta was standing behind the couch, her hand subconsciously running through his hair, listening to Atalia speak about the difference between a bar and bat mitzvah. It was a celebration for Jewish kids when they were 12 and 13. They were now adults, meaning they had to take responsibility for their actions. Marta internally frowned, knowing she would never be able to have her own, but maybe one day she would have a children and could celebrate theirs. 

Marta was feeling wonderful. She felt a new friendship forming with Atalia, and after last night, she felt even closer to Ezra. Little did she know, things were about to make a drastic change. When Marta heard the door slam open, she jumped out of her skin. She knew right away it could not be Ezra's parents because they weren't due back yet, and also they would not be so violent in their entrance. Fear sweeping her, Marta quickly circled the couch, and stood next to Ezra who had stood up. She clutched onto his hand and arm and felt her heart stop when the three officers appeared before them. Her heart was racing, what were they doing here? Did something happen to Ezra's parents? Were they here to take him too? She held onto the boy even tighter, listening to him try in vain to get the men to leave.

And then they spoke, and when she heard her name, Marta's eyes widened. It was like time froze for a moment, her brain unable to fully register what happened. And before she could decide what to do, she heard Atalia confessing that she was Marta. Marta shook her head, but before she could do anything, Ezra's hands was over her mouth. She tried to fight him, but despite his injuries, he was still stronger than her. Tears were streaming down her face, her chest heaving as she watched Atalia dragged out of the apartment. This couldn't happen, not another person hurt, or worse killed, because of her. 

When Ezra dropped his hand, Marta didn't move a muscle. She was hyperventilating, staring at the entrance Atalia was just taken through. She had to make this right, she had to fix this. Fuck those men. Fuck Hitler. Anger was boiling up in Marta, she was feeling something she has never felt before in her life: rage. She felt her teeth clenching and her fist tightening. She barely registered what Ezra was talking about. 

Suddenly without warning, Marta let out a scream. Letting all the rage escape through her mouth. She felt momentarily better, but she was still seeing red. Looking at Ezra, her heart clenched, she felt bad, but she was also so mad. Mad at him, mad at the officers, mad at the world.

"You fool!" she said, her voice louder, but she tried not to sound too harsh, "You should have let them take me! They are going to discover very quickly Atalia is not me, and then they will kill her! And then they will come back for me, and kill you too for trying to hide me! My life is not worth that much!"

She let out another scream, and began pacing around the small room. She had to make this right. Marta would have to turn herself in. She knew that Atalia was doomed, she couldn't save her at this point. But if she turned herself in, at least Ezra could be spared. Marta began to think where they would have taken Atalia. Possibly the police station, but knowing her father was involved, they could be holding her at the government offices. Thinking of her father, she felt anger rise again. What happened? Did he confess to having a sympathizer as a daughter? She truly wished that wasn't the case; she knew she disappointed her father, but deep down Marta felt that he still loved and cared for her. No he must have been betrayed. 

Deciding the best path was to turn herself in, Marta ran into the bedroom and slipped on her shoes and grabbed her coat. When she came back out, she looked at Ezra. He hadn't moved from the couch, his body shaking, and he looked like he just saw a ghost. Marta suddenly felt her resolve melt, and she dropped her coat. She walked over, carefully she climbed onto Ezra's lap, straddling his waist. Unlike last time, the movement was not sexual at all. She reached up, her hands on both sides of his face, and made him look at her.

"Ezra..." she said softly, her fingers playing with his loose curls around his neck, "I need you to tell me who to call to come watch you after I leave."

Marta didn't think she would ever be returning, so she was going to take a few minutes to be with Ezra and make him understand what was happening, and to say her goodbyes.