It was almost dark and she was freezing. The floor and the walls of the cell were stone, damp and slippery. She sat on the small heap of straw piled into a corner, the only light illuminating her prison filtering through a barred window high above her. She curled into a ball, her arms wrapped round her body, trying to retain some warmth, but her clothes were torn and her body was bruised and she shook with cold and fear. Then she heard it, the key scraping in the lock, and when the door opened she saw his face, lit by the candle he carried. Flickering flame showed her the black beard, the scarred cheeks, the cruel eyes, now alight with lustful anticipation.
‘On your feet!’ he ordered. ‘It’s playtime!’
She screamed then, a shrill, penetrating scream of terror, a scream that woke her and left her shivering in the dark.