There was no need to hide anymore, no sneaky visits to my sisters’ underwear drawer and make-up bag, no more squalid stolen minutes with part of me ...n the alert for the sound of keys in the latch and unexpected footsteps. I thought I had been very brave it was the one job I wasn’t happy with doing myself, I had attended a nail parlour in a town far enough away, that I didn’t care whether or not they believed story about my part that required long nails in the charity Christmas panto, in fact. The few questions she did ask him only made him more of a myth in her mind. She knew rationally he was just a man. But still he had the power of life and death. He had read her own fantasy and corrected her to the reality of the torture. And yet she still craved it…no, needed it. She had confessed to him. Told him that she wanted to prove to herself that she could withstand any level of torture for her faith, like Joan of Arc. She wanted to prove worthy of her God’s love. The problem was she. I was not sure if it was, but it fired me up and made me feel warm inside. I really enjoyed coming near these young women. We went up the hill to my parents’ house and there we separated. I followed the girls with my eyes as they walked along up the hill. Two beautiful and stunning girls had shown interest in spending time with me. What could be better? I was overwhelmed with joy. The time was minutes to seven when I climbed up the steep path that led to Eva’s and Charles’s cottage. Once up. They were pouring some kind of feed into the doggie bowls that were in each stall. The man that entered my stall didn’t even look at me. He simply poured this mud brown chunky feed into my doggie bowl, and used a hose to pour water into a second bowl. He hastily locked the stall closed and moved on to the next stall. I looked down at my bowl, which looked like it was filled with poop. I smelled the thick mixture and gagged. I looked up at the girls across from me. Each and every one of them was.