He cut the knots tying her wrists and stepped away, as she rubbed them gratefully, the pain flooding into her fingers.

“Here, clean up,” he said, tossing a towel at her.

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes blurred with tears. She took her time washing, trying to find some sense of normality in the everyday actions. He took her chin in his hand and turned her face to his. He looked so handsome, even approving.

“Bien,” he murmured and she felt a strange gratitude. Perhaps he wouldn’t kill her after all, she thought.

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered.

“Yes, anything,” she whispered, and began to unbutton her dress with clumsy fingers. When she had stripped down to her bra and panties, she looked expectantly at him, but he just stood there. Confused, she hesitantly unhooked her bra and then, after a moment, stepped out of her panties.

“Do you want me to lay down?” she asked, motioning at the bed. If there was a bulge in his pants, she couldn’t see it.

“Just stand there,” he snapped irritably.

Then she heard the heavy steps of men coming down the wooden stairs. Four men in suits entered the room and studied her as if she were in a cage at the zoo. One looked like a fat, graying French businessman with dark, beady eyes and a moustache which he twitched like a rodent. The other three were dark-skinned. Algerians or Arabs, she guessed. One of the Arabs, a scrawny man with a scar on his cheek and long hairs growing out of his nose, came up to her and fondled her breasts. He breathed heavily in her face and she thought she was going to pass out. His breath was foul, as if he fed on carrion. A tear edged its way out of the corner of her eye. Then another Arab gestured for her to bend over. She closed her eyes and felt his harsh fingers probing. She felt their hands all over her, moving her this way and that, as though she was a giant plastic doll. She let them do what they wanted, thinking Kelly’s not here. Kelly’s far away with her Daddy and her Mommy who are still married and they still love their little girl.

Then the hands were gone and when she opened her eyes, they had gathered in a circle and were babbling furiously in French. She felt her legs were about to collapse under her and somehow made it to the edge of the bed and sat down. Every once in a while, one of the men would glance over at her. She looked pleadingly at Gerard, but his eyes were cold and calculating; they followed the conversation back and forth as though it were a tennis ball.