Chapter Eighteen
Shirley recovered physically. With the fever gone, she could rest and eat. Uli hand fed her, helping her into the bathroom until she was strong enough to make it alone. The marks on her body faded, and faint spots of yellow were all that remained of the deepest bruises.
The bedroom door was left unlocked, and Shirley began to venture timidly out. Soon she was padding about the house, naked and unbound, like a bored housecat. She would drop to her knees whenever Helga or Uli approached, but most of the time they simply ignored her. She ate what she was fed, spoke when spoken to, and rested by kneeling or lying on the floor. She never read, and the television seemed to confuse her. Without duties to perform or tortures to endure, she simply drifted.
“I shouldn’t be here,”
