Chapter 4
When Nathalie awoke, she was back in the room where it had all started. She looked about, wondering if it all had been some kind of terrible nightmare. Jerking awake so quickly that she was still somewhat dazed, she looked about and shuddered at the dim recollection that quickly swelled into a searingly painful memory.
There was a pain in her loins-no, more an ache, but it was intense. Her skin felt peculiar, and with a start, she realized that she was entirely naked.
She scanned the room carefully but could not see her valises. Jerking off the top coverlet, she wrapped it tightly about her and scurried across to the wardrobe. As she pulled the door open, a cold chill swept over her. There was nothing there.
Ohhhhh, dear Lord, she moaned inwardly, what has happened to me?
She rushed to the chiffonier, but it too was barren. Frantically, she checked beneath the bed and behind every stick of furniture, but her clothing had absolutely disappeared. Once she was convinced of this fact, she returned to the shelter of the bed, rewrapping the top coverlet as tightly about her as she could and then pulling the covers up about her neck.
She propped her head up so that she could keep her eyes on the door, and then her brain was left to function overtime and the horror of the memories of dogs and men swelled about her until she could not breathe for the terror that convulsively gripped her body.
I cannot go through such an ordeal again, she told herself over and over. I. would rather be dead. Whoa, there girl! Get ahold of yourself. There has to be a way out of this. Think!
She began wondering about different things that had to be investigated. Yet, she could not bear the thought of getting out of bed again. She stared at the door. Was it locked? Was she a prisoner or not? And the window. Was there a way out from there? She tried to remember what she had seen that first time she had looked out of the wide pane, but all that came to her was the old man riding down the side of the mountain on the little cart.
Forcing herself out of the bed, she gripped the coverlet tightly about her and began her investigation. The door, very definitely, was locked. There was no budging it. From the window, she looked down to the outer wall some twenty below. It formed a ledge no more than two-feet wide, at most, and from there it was another forty-foot drop down the wall to the side of the mountain. The mountain itself was faced with a cliff, and although there were fissures that looked negotiable, the drop was nearly a thousand feet to where the mountain began sloping down more gradually toward the valley below. It was a hopeless vista and Nathalie felt a letdown in spite of the little hope she had before. Nothing is ever quite nothing until it becomes hopeless, and then it becomes a bottomless pit from which there is no escape.
She was climbing back beneath the comforters when she heard a loud click. Her eyes saucered and she held her breath as she pulled the comforter up tightly about her neck and stared at the door. Slowly the knob turned. Nathalie stifled a scream as her blood churned with apprehension.
okay, dear God, please-it was all she had time to pray.
The door opened and the two pleasant-looking young women stood behind a large wooden cart which they proceeded to push into the room.
"Hello!" one said cheerily as she approached the bed. "I am Astrid. This is Hedda. Please, don't look so frightened. We have only come to make you ready."
"The only thing I shall ever be ready for is to get my clothing and return to my home!" Nathalie snapped.
Astrid smiled patiently. "I know how you feel, my dear," she said. "We both do. We were once brought to this room just as you have been. You will live through it."
"I don't want to live through it!" she hissed. "I should far rather die!"
"I said that once," Hedda said, speaking for the first time. Her voice was low and filled with compassion, "I even tried it, but it is quite impossible, you know."
Nathalie pulled the coverlet tightly about her as Hedda turned to lock the door.
"I imagine there is a way," she warned ominously.
Astrid laughed, and her voice was a soft, melodious one, filled with good humor and warmth.
"Of course, there are ways," she answered cheerfully. "Many ways, for the morbid or sick at heart, but you are a normal, healthy young woman. That is the way they always pick them. You could not possibly burden the Lord with such an infamous act any more than Hedda could. Be glad for that, Nathalie. Life is very precious."
They knew all about her. They knew her name. They knew of the depth of her religious convictions -or were they only guessing at that? Nathalie was sure of nothing now.
"And what did you do?" she asked Hedda, and her tone was more curious than irate now.
Astrid pulled the comforter away with a quick jerk as Hedda pushed the girl gently but firmly back down onto the bed.
"Lie back and relax, dear," Hedda said.
"Please," Nathalie pleaded, "I must know. How much will I have to endure? How can I possibly live through-" She shuddered but could not say the words.
Hedda's eyes misted with compassion.
"I will tell you all of it as we work," she promised. "Just relax. You will find that it helps to have a friend. Astrid and I will be your friends."