While the World Is Still Asleep (The Century Trilogy Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

matches? If they found out that he had been playing with fire again, they would blame her. She had hammered on the door with her right fist so hard that it hurt, her fury and fear growing with every passing second. “Open up!” Again, nothing happened. But she thought she heard a quiet laugh.
    “Just wait!” Gathering her skirt, she had run into the toolshed in search of something large and heavy to break down the door. She grabbed the ax, ran back to the barn, and swung it with such force at the barn door that it fell out of her hands. The door did not open, but she managed to dislodge two of its boards with the force of the blow. Heat surged out through the gap, and the fire flared up a bright yellow, fueled by the fresh air.
    Josephine’s wrists burned and splinters drove into her flesh as she tore out the boards with her bare hands.
    Dear God, watch over my brother. He is just a child. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Dear God, take what you want from me, but watch over my brother.
    She had prayed to God as she had never prayed in her life. But God was not there on that Sunday. The fire extinguished her prayers, as surely as it did Felix’s life.
    “Felix! Where are you?” Her voice sounded muffled, as if she were trying to speak through a heavy cloth rag. She squinted into the scorching sea of fire, and a stabbing pain throbbed in her ears as she groped her way forward into the inferno.
    She was too late. Her brother had already perished in the flames.

Chapter Three
    Breakfast was a scant affair that took place under the eyes of two surly guards in a cold, gloomy hall. The narrow windows were positioned in the upper third of the walls, and little light found its way through them. It’s like eating in a basement, thought Jo, as she sat down at one of the outer tables. Could it be that the rooms that made up the juvenile section of the prison were actually underground? When she’d been brought in, she had paid no attention to things like stairways, but now, after a single night, she felt as if she’d been buried alive inside a tomb. She wanted more than anything to stand up and leave.
    She felt Adele’s venomous glare on her as she chewed on a dry roll and sipped at the weak tea. The leader of the gang was whispering with the girls sitting around her and pointed repeatedly in Josephine’s direction. Once, twice, their eyes met. Jo knew she had better be on guard.
    “So? Why are you here?”
    Reluctantly, Josephine turned to the redhead who had sat beside her. She didn’t even know the girl’s name, didn’t know whether she was really pregnant or she just had a strange figure. And she didn’t want to know.
    “Theft,” Josephine replied.
    “Is that all . . . ?” asked the red-haired girl, evidently disappointed. “I was tricked!” she added, then launched into a drawn-out story in which three friends, an old couple, and money hidden under a mattress all played a role. The fact that the old couple lay dead in their narrow bed by the end of the story didn’t seem to trouble the girl much. She repeated several times that she had had nothing to do with it.
    As if Josephine cared! She chewed in silence, wishing she were able to close her ears as easily as she could close her eyes.
    “And I got tricked the same way with this.” The girl thumped her stomach with her right hand. “He said he’d be careful and that we’d both have fun. Fun my foot! But I suppose one good thing did come of it. If I wasn’t knocked up, they’d have stuck me in the prison in Moabit. They only brought me here because the women’s prison has a birthing ward.” The redhead reached out her hand. “My name’s Martha, by the way.”
    Josephine had no choice but to take the extended hand. It was moist, and a few breadcrumbs clung to it.
    “Jo.”
    “At least your name isn’t too long!” Martha laughed. “It sounds more like a man’s name. But from what I know about you, it fits. It sounds really . . .