The Secret She Kept: Eva Schloss, Anne Frank’s Stepsister, Breaks Her Silence After 95 Years

For 95 years, the world believed it knew the whole story of Anne Frank—the young Jewish girl whose diary gave voice to the horrors of the Holocaust and its unimaginable suffering.

But there is another name tied to Anne’s fate that history has overlooked: Eva Schloss, Anne’s posthumous stepsister, and a Holocaust survivor who has lived decades in the shadow of that silence.

It’s a truth too painful to share, a secret hidden for years that Eva, now at 95, feels she must finally reveal. What has Eva been carrying all these years?

What haunting memories still plague her dreams after surviving one of history’s darkest times? And what shocking truth has she kept from the world until now?

The Girl Who Was Anne’s Neighbor

Before Anne Frank’s name became synonymous with the war’s devastation, there was Eva Geiringer, a young girl living just doors away from Anne in the bustling Merwedeplein district of Amsterdam.

Eva and Anne, born a month apart in 1929, were childhood friends who shared laughter, dreams, and secrets in the cobblestone streets of their quiet neighborhood.

In the early 1930s, Amsterdam was a city of relative peace, untouched by the political unrest that was sweeping across Europe. The two girls spent their days playing in the streets, riding bicycles, and whispering about crushes and ambitions.

Anne, bold and outspoken, had dreams of fame, while Eva, quieter and more introspective, preferred to observe the world around her. Neither of them could have known that this ordinary friendship, this shared childhood, would soon be shattered by forces beyond their control.

As Nazi banners began to unfurl across the Netherlands, the shadows of war crept into their lives. The occupation of Amsterdam brought with it the horrifying realization that their Jewish heritage would soon make them targets.

It was a world in which friendships would be tested, loyalties broken, and families torn apart.

The Early Years of Secrecy

In 1938, as the war began to rage across Europe, Eva’s father, Erich Geiringer, fled Austria with his family, having seen the writing on the wall.

They made their way to the Netherlands, hoping to outrun the looming threat of the Nazis. Otto Frank, too, had fled Germany for Amsterdam, seeking refuge with his family.

But their attempts to outrun fate were futile. The German army invaded the Netherlands in 1940, and with it came a torrent of anti-Semitic laws that stripped Jews of their rights, their dignity, and their freedom.

Eva and Anne, once carefree children, now found their world shrinking, confined to the four walls of their homes. The girls wore the yellow Star of David, a symbol of their persecution, and though they continued to meet occasionally, their lives were increasingly shaped by fear.

Eva remembers seeing Anne across the courtyard, waving, both of them sharing a smile despite the heavy weight of the world around them. “It was strange,” Eva would later say, “to see your friend suddenly branded. But we didn’t yet understand what it really meant.”

The two families, once so close, began their journey into hiding. The Frank family vanished into the Secret Annex, while Eva’s family moved from one refuge to another, each place less safe than the last.

In these fleeting moments of escape, Eva’s memories of Anne grew stronger, as Anne poured her thoughts into her famous diary, while Eva’s life became a quiet struggle for survival, moving from attic to barn to basement, always in fear of discovery.

The Day That Shattered Innocence

Then came the fateful day: May 11, 1944. Eva, now fifteen, awoke on her birthday to the oppressive silence of their hiding place. It was a day like any other, filled with a quiet sense of dread.

As she lay in hiding, she could hear the soft whispers of her mother and the distant sounds of a world that seemed so far removed from the girl she used to be.

But that silence was abruptly shattered. A violent knock at the door, followed by the pounding boots of the German soldiers, changed everything. “It happened so quickly,” Eva would recall.

“One moment, I was fifteen. The next, I was a prisoner.” The family was betrayed by a Dutch informant, and in an instant, their world of secrecy and survival crumbled.

Eva barely had time to put on her shoes before she was dragged into the street, her mother crying out in desperation, her brother trying to protect her. But there was nothing they could do.

Eva was thrust into the back of a truck with other Jewish prisoners, and the streets she once knew so well were now just distant memories.

Westerbork, Auschwitz, and the Angel of Death

The first stop for Eva and her family was Westerbork, a transit camp in the Netherlands where they were stripped of their belongings and forced into squalid conditions.

They were told it was temporary, but rumors quickly spread about the real purpose of the camp. People spoke of smoke, of chimneys, of death—and soon, Eva would learn the horrifying truth when she was deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau.

The journey to Auschwitz was a brutal one, taking three agonizing days in sealed cattle cars. The stench, the heat, and the lack of air made the experience unbearable. Eva and her fellow prisoners were treated like animals, stacked on top of each other, with no space to breathe, let alone hope.

When they finally arrived at Auschwitz, the brutality of the Nazis hit Eva like a cold wave. Soldiers screamed orders, dogs barked, and the smell of death permeated the air.

It was a place where humanity had no place, and Eva was thrust into that nightmare, separated from her family, forced to endure the unimaginable.

The Mark That Would Define Her

In the hellish landscape of Auschwitz, Eva’s body was marked with the same number that would define her existence for years to come. A tattoo—77122—was etched into her arm, replacing her name, her identity, her humanity.

In the eyes of the Nazis, she was no longer a person; she was simply a number, a tool for forced labor, a cog in the machine of death.

But despite the daily torment and suffering, Eva found a glimmer of hope. Small acts of kindness, shared moments with fellow prisoners, and the memory of a life before Auschwitz kept her going.

She remembered her brother’s violin, the sounds of Vienna’s summer evenings, and the words of her mother urging her to stay strong. “Live,” her mother whispered before they were separated—those words became Eva’s lifeline.

The Angel of Death and the Gift of Survival

One of the darkest figures of Eva’s time in Auschwitz was Dr. Josef Mengele, the infamous “Angel of Death” known for his cruel medical experiments on prisoners.

Eva would later recall how he smiled as he selected individuals for his grotesque experiments, and how he chose pairs of twins, the youngest of them no older than eight, leading them away to their deaths. “They didn’t cry,” Eva said quietly. “They just looked back.”

Eva’s survival was a miracle. She avoided the selection line and lived to witness the final days of the Nazi regime. But when liberation came, it was far from a joyous occasion.

Eva and the other survivors were left with scars that could never be erased, not just on their bodies, but on their souls. The world outside had moved on, and in the streets of Amsterdam, there was no warmth left.

Her old home was empty, her family’s belongings gone, and the city seemed hollow, erased of everything she once knew.

Breaking the Silence: The Secret Eva Kept for Decades

For decades after the war, Eva Schloss kept her silence. She married, moved to London, and raised a family, but the memories of Auschwitz and the horrors of her past never left her.

She spoke little of her experiences, hiding the trauma deep inside. But in the 1980s, after the death of her mother, Eva discovered something that would shatter her silence forever.

While sorting through her mother’s belongings, she came across a bundle of letters tied with string, letters written by her brother Heinz during his time in hiding before their family’s capture.

Heinz’s words, filled with quiet resilience and dreams of survival, revealed a side of her brother that Eva had never fully known. In one of his letters, Heinz had written, “If you live, tell them we were more than victims. Tell them we dreamed.”

These letters were a mission passed from her brother to her, a legacy of memory and hope. And it was then that Eva realized what she had to do: speak the truth, share the memories, and reclaim the humanity of those lost in the flames of history.

A Legacy of Truth: Eva’s Final Secret

Eva Schloss’s final confession came late in life, when she was ready to share the most painful secret she had carried for years. It wasn’t about Anne Frank, or Auschwitz, but about something far more personal—something she had kept locked away to protect herself and her family.

It was a secret that would change everything, a truth about the aftermath of liberation and the sacrifices made to survive.

Eva’s story isn’t just one of survival; it’s a story of resilience, remembrance, and the unyielding power of truth.

In breaking her silence, Eva Schloss has given a voice to the millions who suffered, fought, and died in the camps. And in her final moments, she has made sure their stories will never be forgotten.

Eva Schloss’s journey reminds us that survival is not just about living—it’s about carrying forward the stories of those who didn’t make it. Through her strength, courage, and the truth she finally shared, Eva has given a gift to the world—one that we must all carry forward.