Ilse could feel the ice in her chest now. Fear and confusion prickled across her. She swallowed, but the lump lodged in her throat. She tried to twist, but could feel Sam’s arms now wrapping tighter around her shoulders, holding her in place. Not so much a hug anymore, but a restraining embrace.

“I don’t think we should have gone through that. That was terrible, wasn’t it, Hilda? We had a terrible father. Didn’t we, sister? I wish we hadn’t. I really do. Please, no, stop struggling. I’m here. Stop it, stop it!” Samantha screamed this last phrase. Her voice was no longer trembling, no longer shaking. Her voice was no longer desperate or pitiable. It was a loud, bellowing, furious tone. A voice of command and power.

It reverberated, echoing in Ilse’s ears. The arms that had seemed soft, comforting, embracing at first were now like iron cords wrapped against Ilse’s shoulders.

“Get off me!” Ilse yelled, kicking now, but the blankets tangled her legs, wrapping around them like a constrictor and helping to hold her fast.

“He shouldn’t have done that. We shouldn’t have suffered like that. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t very fun.”

And then Ilse felt Samantha’s hand moving up her shoulder, moving up to her lips. She could smell something strong. A rag? Some strange odor. Was that chloroform?

“Get off!”

Ilse tried to knock back with her head, but she only hit a pillow. She tried to flail, but Samantha was surprisingly strong.

Samantha was giggling now, all signs of the trembling tone vanished. “There, there, baby sister. Rock-a-bye baby. Smile, smile. It’s all going to be okay. Remember, you said that. You’re the one who promised. You should be careful what you promise.”

Ilse could feel her eyes drooping, the scent of chemicals against her nose; her eyes stinging. She tried to struggle, but her hands were going limp. She felt Samantha behind her, wrapping her arms tight. The woman who claimed to be her sister leaned in. She felt soft lips against her cheek.

Samantha kissed her gently, cooing in her ear. “There, there. It’s all going to be okay, baby sister. It’s all going to be just fine. I promise. I really promise.” Her words were biting, acerbic.

All fight had fled Ilse’s limbs. She couldn’t move, couldn’t shout, couldn’t do anything but slowly, bathed in terror and chemicals, drift off into a dark embrace.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Ilse’s eyes felt weighted with lead. She couldn’t quite blink at first, as her consciousness returned in gentle pulses. It started in her chest as a prickle, then along her arms and her back. Then her cheeks itched, and finally, her eyelids, under the peculiar weight of chemical interference, began to flutter. As her eyes opened, the horror that had confronted her before falling unconscious returned to her memory.

She went stiff, even as her vision adjusted.

All around her, glass. Glass windows, glass walls. A couch, and a sofa, and a desk chair near a bookcase. They were in the patio office. Where she had tried to help Samantha.