I promised my brother we would always be connected. No matter what. But the day we were separated, I couldn’t keep my promise. I screamed, begging the guards to keep us together. They didn’t listen to my pleas, though; they didn’t even seem to notice. They weren’t the slightest bit concerned, I realized, horrified. They were gleeful. The thrill of separating siblings, of tearing lives apart, was making them happy. And not one person was going to stop this. Because in this country—in this world—it was seen as good to kill Jews.