She woke later, blood crusted to the side of her face, her head throbbing. She called in the dark, but no answer came. Neither Reginald, nor the fictitious witch. She'd spent the night huddled in a corner, knees pulled to her chest, repeating every prayer she had ever learned. When morning came, and light touched the cottage, she discovered she was not so alone as she thought. Lying on the floor in various states of decomposition were three other girls, their dresses dirty and hair matted tangles of leaves and filth.
It wasn't hard for her to piece it together, though it helped that she recognized one of the girls as Natty Goode, who'd disappeared months before. Apparently Reginald had had other lovers before her, other girls his fat, ugly wife knew nothing about. Girls he had disposed of
