Header: film ‘Terror at the Opera’

In-text 1: film, ‘Brenda Starr Reporter’

In-text 2: bondage Magazine, Jay Edwards #1, 1989, p. 10

In-text 3: soap, ‘The Bold and the Beautiful,’ Barbara Crampton, Grumpy’s site

In-text 4: film ‘Cauldron of Blood,’ Steve’s Didcaps

Footer: film, Angelica Rivera, La Duena, Malasfan’s site

Three men had entered the cellar. One, a big beefy guy Melody recognized as Hudson, stood uncertainly by the door at the head of the steps where he had obviously been posted. The other two were Montague and Karl, the man who used to call himself Snedley. What was his real name? she wondered. Melody could still feel the imprint of Montague’s fingers on her arms, where he had bound them back in the car. Karl stepped forward and leered at the two hostages. Montague, standing a couple of paces behind, cast a worried frown at Karl’s back.

‘Whee-hoo.’ It was Karl who spoke first. He closed his utterance with a low whistle.

Melody’s vision was beginning to blur with the strain of keeping head and shoulders raised off the floor, and she collapsed weakly at their feet. Her cheek rested on a cold stone slab but she was almost beyond caring. Montague stepped past Karl and poked Melody’s arm tentatively with his foot, then he knelt quickly and cut the length of cord that held the almost unconscious woman in the hog tie.

Melody felt herself rolled roughly onto her back. The uneven stone slabs of the cellar floor pressed into several spots on her arms, but they were numb already from having been trussed so tightly behind her for the last two hours. Kneeling at her back, Montague took Melody under her shoulders and hauled her into a sitting position. Melody was virtually a dead weight, so exhausted had she become, and the man was sweating by the time he had half carried, half dragged her to the side of the cellar and propped her up with her back against a wall.

Karl stood silently by the steps, his arms folded across his bony chest, a rictus of triumph splitting his face. Or was it some other emotion? There was a glint of spittle on one of his teeth. He did not interfere. He did nothing except to watch in obvious glee. Melody was beginning to appreciate the depth of Mia’s contempt and fear for the man.

Montague seized a hank of Melody’s hair at the back and pulled her head up so that her face was raised and looking into his. ‘Time to make a start,’ he said. ‘We’ve got a few questions to ask and we won’t worry ourselves about the niceties. You can nod or shake your head yes or no. We’ll take the gag out of your mouth if we think you’re going to cooperate.’

‘No. No please!’ It was a cry of anguish from Mia. She had been shrinking back into the shadows as well as she could, tethered as she was to the wall, hoping that Karl would forget her for awhile at least. But her loyalty to her fellow captive now came to the fore. Karl stepped towards Mia threateningly, but the helpless girl continued doggedly in spite of her terror.

‘Can’t you see the poor woman’s almost choked to death on that gag?’ Mia exclaimed quickly. ‘You’ll be killing the goose that laid the golden egg if you let her life slip away!’

‘Goose that … ? What do you know about this business?’ asked Montague suspiciously.

‘Wh … what business?’ Mia countered, suddenly terrified that she had given the game away. ‘It’s just a figure of speech. I don’t have any idea what you people want from her. Or from me for that matter.’

‘You know full well what I want,’ Karl grated. ‘I’se gonna deal with you. Right now.’

And in an apparent reversal of logic the lanky fellow turned on his heels and headed up the steps and out the door, brushing roughly past Hudson, who with his bulk was scarcely able to step aside. Melody saw a noticeable relaxation in Montague’s manner now that Karl was gone.

‘That’s a point,’ grunted Montague. The reality of Melody’s limp body and blood-suffused, strained face, was impacting on him.

He crouched closer to Melody and began to cut the tape wrapped liberally around the young woman’s face. He did it carefully, using a pair of medical safety scissors that he took from his pocket, cutting along the line of the woman’s jaw. Melody was so out of it that the pain of the tape being stripped from the back of her neck and then from her cheeks and lips scarcely registered. Montague had to extract the tightly packed wadding from Melody’s mouth himself, delicately using thumb and forefinger. And when the packing came away, all Melody could do was slump back against the wall in total relief. She took deep shuddering breaths. It was wonderful not to be continually fighting the gagging reflex.

Montague rose, walked to a darkened corner of the cellar, and returned with a small wooden stool in his hand. He planted in on the floor, adjusted it so that the chair legs rested as firmly as possible on the uneven surface, and sat down. With his hands on his knees, he stared intently at Melody.

Melody was beginning to come to a clearer recognition of her surroundings. She wished it was all a dream, but it was brutal reality. She was bound, sitting in a cold cellar, but no longer gagged. Mia, her new ally and fellow sufferer, hung by her wrists from a thick rope in the shadows at the far side of the cellar. They were in the hands of desperate and ruthless robbers. And the only thing that protected them from certain death, she guessed, was how good a yarn she could spin about the duck’s egg diamond. She had no idea where it was. But the thieves believed she knew about it, thanks to that little liar Jasmine Morris. Melody knew that what she said in the next few minutes would have an irrevocable effect on their lives. It was quite literally a question of life or death. Melody prayed to her tutelary deity that she would be capable of meeting this responsibility.

Montague cleared his throat. He was about to speak when the door of the cellar burst open and Karl reappeared. He had to stop abruptly because Hudson, suddenly alerted, had leapt into his path. But the big man stepped aside when he saw it was his fellow gang member.

Karl clomped down the steps and stood, flushed and triumphant, in front of Mia. He held a large shiny cloth parcel under his arm. The dark haired beauty cringed back against the wall, a stifled cry of fright on her lips.

‘Hoo hoo, we’ll see how chirpy a li’l bird you are now, Mam’sel Mia Chantal,’ Karl crowed.

With a flourish, Karl/Snedley placed the parcel on the floor and began to unwrap it. Melody saw that the cloth was a large satin sheet. Within its folds lay coils of thin rope, rolls of white cloth, and leathery objects she could not identify.

From his pocket Karl produced a large clasp knife. When he opened it, a wicked looking blade was revealed. A shiver went up Melody’s back. Her heart went to her mouth as Karl reached up to the rope at Mia’s bound wrists and began sawing at it. In a moment the heavy rope fell away. Mia’s arms dropped to her lap and she sat there, weary and beautiful in her diaphanous silk slip.

The rope was next unravelled from the girl’s wrists, but there was little respite for her. Karl turned her around firmly and pulled her arms behind her back. With one hand he reached for a coil of the thin cord and Melody watched in fascinated horror as her fellow captive was tied again. She had witnessed other tie-ups before, when she and Jasmine were bound by the robbers in the gem store and again when Brentford and Orly had tied them both to chairs. But this was the first time she had a grandstand view of a full trussing up. She felt sick to her stomach as Mia’s arms were next bound at the elbows and drawn tightly into the small of her back. The girl’s fingers hung limply. There was no resistance in her. She made no sound. It was almost as though she was asleep or in a swoon.

As Karl swung his prisoner around and began tying her ankles, Melody could stand it no longer. ‘Please don’t hurt her,’ she croaked, surprised that she was able to speak, let alone make any sound after being gagged for so long.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn,’ the man replied menacingly. Aside from that brief acknowledgment, he ignored Melody’s intrusion.

Melody looked appealingly to Montague, but the fellow avoided her gaze. He continued to sit on the stool in front of her, watching Karl with a bemused expression.

‘How long’re you gonna take with her?’ Montague asked. Mia’s legs were now bound at her ankles and above her knees and Karl was busy looping more cord around her body above and below her breasts. He intentionally hooked a finger in Mia’s slip near her shoulder and pulled it down to reveal a small but perfectly formed left breast. Her nipple was unusually prominent in the cold air of the cellar.

‘Jus’ a li’l mo,’ Karl grunted, ‘then I’ll get to work on our Mizz Melody Goldmine.’

‘Okay.’ Montague rose to his feet and pushed the stool aside. ‘You carry on. I’ll bring down our other guest to join the party.’ What was that? wondered Melody. What was going on? Montague paused at the foot of the steps and watched Karl’s preparations for the helpless Mia another moment, then continued up the steps shaking his head and muttering something under his breath.

Melody had no time to wonder about Montague’s parting remark. She found herself fighting uselessly against her bonds in a near panic. She knew that Karl would start on her as soon as he was finished with Mia. And what he was doing to Mia plunged Melody into greater terror for both their lives. Mia was being wrapped up tightly in the large satin bed sheet. Karl had spread the sheet on the floor, laid the bound girl on it at one edge, and was methodically and slowly rolling her over and over in it. Each time Mia’s body made a complete roll, Karl pulled the sheet tight before completing another roll. Aside from a faint whimper, Mia made no sound, nor did she struggle.

In a short time, Mia was completely cocooned in the satin from head to foot. The material was so tightly wrapped about her that the feminine shape of her body was clearly definable. Her thighs and buttocks, the rise of her breasts though flattened in the slick bands, and the outline of her shoulders and head brought a lump to Melody’s throat. To know that in those suffocating wraps lay the lovely young woman who had tried to cheer her up only fifteen minutes earlier! That was not the worst of it, thought Melody. Mia’s head was tightly bandaged, like a mummy, and Melody wondered whether the poor woman could breathe at all.

Karl now bound Mia in a tight network of rope from ankles to shoulders. He seemed to have a never-ending supply of the cords. At last he squatted back and surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction. The parcelled girl was now lying on her back. Melody saw the slow rise and fall of Mia’s chest and felt a brief wave of relief. She was still alive. And she seemed not to be struggling or in a panic.

Melody realised that was how she must behave as well, if this was going to be her fate also. But there were no other bed sheets. Maybe Karl had different plans for her. Would there be anything to gain by speaking to him reasonably? Melody felt that for both her sake and for Mia she had to try.

‘D-Don’t you think that’s a little rough on her? If you people want to know about that diamond you’d better treat us more decently. Being bound and gagged for hours in a cold cellar is bad enough.’

Karl turned menacingly towards her. Melody spoke quickly, rightly fearing that she had very little time left before she was silenced. ‘Look, I’ll tell you all I know about the diamond, but only if you don’t torture either of us. And that you set us free.’ Karl drew a large white handkerchief from his breast pocket and began to shake it out of its folds. ‘And the first thing you must do,’ Melody added with even more haste, ‘is to at least unwrap Mia’s face and let her breathe.’ Karl now held the handkerchief by two of its diagonal ends and began twirling it into a layered band. ‘She must be suffocating in … mmmph.’ Melody’s voice trailed off as the handkerchief was stuffed into her mouth and tied tightly at the back of her neck below her hair. It was only to be expected, she sighed. At least she had given what she hoped was timely common sense. She wondered whether she would ever grow accustomed to the taste of cotton!

With Melody silenced, Karl returned to his brutal work. At first it seemed to Melody that the man had taken her plea to heart because he began unwrapping Mia’s face and head from the clinging satin. The dark haired beauty took a deep breath and looked Karl full in the face. She forced a grateful smile. ‘Thank you.’

‘Don’ thang me too soon, darlin’,’ Karl sniggered.

He reached across to the impedimenta on the floor and selected one of the leather things. Melody now witnessed a demonstration of the object’s use, but she still did not recognise what it was. It appeared to be a broad strap of soft leather. Karl raised it over Mia’s head and brought it down against her mouth. Melody saw with a shock that a pear shaped ball of leather was attached to the centre of the strap. This was now stuffed into Mia’s mouth. The girl did not resist. Bound and almost unconscious from the cold, she had no choice. Her protest was a faint whimper as she took the leather wedge fully into her mouth. Karl buckled it at the back of her neck over her hair, but pulled it so tight that the cushioning effect of Mia’s hair could have little influence on the secureness of the gag. Karl sat back and grinned. Mia shook her head wearily from side to side in a futile attempt to dislodge it.

‘That must be one of the gags they use in BDSM,’ thought Melody. She had heard about them but this was the first time she had seen one, let alone observed its application.

But Mia’s ordeal was just beginning, as Melody saw next with such revulsion that she screamed through the cloth impeding her mouth in empathy with hernew friend. Karl reached out and took another of the leather objects from the floor. But he replaced it when Melody screamed. He turned to her and with an impatient gesture tightened the cloth gag in Melody’s mouth. Her cry trailed off and she slumped back, defeated, knowing there was nothing she could do to assist Mia. They were completely at the mercy of this horrible man.

Karl picked up the object again and turned to Mia. What he held in his hands was a discipline helmet. Melody had heard of them too but she had never seen one in actuality. Mia raised her head wearily and submitted to the additional monstrosity, this time without a murmur. Once the soft leather had been worked firmly in place, it was sealed by a zip at the back. Then the helmet was laced up, much in the same way that a shoe is laced. Karl pulled the laces tight at each eye-hole so that the helmet clung immoveably over the girl’s head. The faint outline of the gag over Mia’s lower face was visible under the soft leather.

A zip, already closed, covered where the mouth would be. There were additional slits, with zip fasteners, over the eyes. These were open. Karl bent forward, face to face with his captive, and glared through into the slits into the eyes of the terrified woman on the other side. Then those zips were drawn shut, and a broad strap hanging loose from the helmet was now passed around Mia’s head so that it covered the sealed slits in the helmet. The band was strapped up tightly. But Karl did not wrap the foldings of sheet over the girl’s head. Melody saw Mia drawing deep shuddering breathes through her nostrils. At least she could breathe, though not easily.

Leaving Mia slumped on the floor, Karl turned his attention to Melody. With a jolt of fear. Melody saw that he had another of those leather helmets in his hand, and she screamed through her gag.

‘That won’t do at all, Miz Moneybags,’ Karl hissed. ‘Ah think this’ll soften you up for our li’l talk. We’ll have that later of course. For now ah think we’ll keep you good an’ quiet.’

But it was not the helmet that he put on her at first. It was another broad leather strap with a built-in mouthpiece. As he stuffed the soft leather tongue past Melody’s lips into her mouth, Karl loosened the handkerchief to allow the pear to penetrate. The handkerchief was left there as well, so that Melody’s mouth was even more muffled, the heavy cotton entangling her tongue. Her next attempt to scream ended in a choking grunt as the leather strap was buckled in place behind her head, over her honey-auburn hair as it was for Mia, and pulled very tight. The leather was soft and clung almost silkily around her face, holding her jaw rigidly.

Melody now realised why Mia had made very little sound when the dreadful helmet was laced around her head. The custom designed gag that had at first been applied did its job with heart-sinking efficiency. There could be virtually no sound, no possible means of communicating with the outside world. They were complete, utter prisoners. In the hotel, even in the room of the broken down house with the useful garden scythe, Melody would have been able to make herself heard through those cloth gags if someone had been standing just outside the window or the door. But now, as she felt the helmet tighten inexorably around her face, Melody knew that when she tried to call for help no one within a few feet of her, on the other side of even a flimsy partition, would hear anything of her faint murmurings.

The helmet was now tightly in place, more stifling that the silk hood had been. She found that she could only breathe through slits under her nostrils. Scarcely any air could be drawn in through her mouth. The gag and the soft leather hood made a tight seal. She had been lowered to the floor onto her face, and she lifted her head in order to breathe better. The zippered slits over her eyes had not been closed and she could still see. Looking through them was like looking into the room through a heavy curtain or from the keyhole of a closet. Worse still, the helmet had padding over the ears that muffled all but the loudest sounds.

Melody did not hear the cellar swing open, and when it crashed shut there was only the faintest of sounds, as though at a great distance. A flash of movement was caught by her peripheral vision however, though partly obscured by the helmet. Melody raised her head and looked more closely.

Montague was descending the steps with a very unwilling prisoner in tow. It was Jasmine Morris. Her hands were bound in front of her with heavy rope, and she was being led like a captive slave girl from a Hollywood sword and sandal epic. That image, coming suddenly into Melody’s mind, seemed perfectly appropriate. In keeping with that quirky thought, Jasmine’s golden hair was in disarray and she was wearing only a diaphanous slip, reminding Melody of the old film Quo Vadis. Where are we going? Melody wondered apprehensively. As Montague led his prisoner closer, Melody saw that Jasmine’s face had a smudge on it. Perhaps it was a bruise. She had been roughed up, judging by her dishevelled state. A strip of white cloth was bound so tightly over Jasmine’s mouth that her cheeks bulged above it and her face was strained and flushed. A sheen of sweat glistened on her face, neck and bear arms.

As Montague led his captive past her to the far end of the cellar, Melody rolled awkwardly onto her side and followed their movements. By the light of the torch Montague carried, she could see an old bed against the cellar wall and a post set in the floor not far from the bed. Jasmine was forced to her knees and her arms were bound above her to the post. It was how Mia had been tied, and Melody wondered whether Mia’s securing had in fact been done by Montague, going on the story Mia had told her earlier. That might explain why Mia, still unconscious, had not been gagged. Montague was a tad more thoughtful than Karl, if that was the right word.

Then Melody was sharply wrenched back to a full awareness of her own helpless plight. Karl’s rough hands seized her by the shoulders and turned her over so that she was facing the opposite way. Melody had a fleeting glimpse of Mia’s swathed form still lying on the cold cellar floor before the eye slits in her helmet were zipped shut. She then felt a broad strap fastened over her eyes and tightened around her head. The helmet was the same type that occluded Mia.

Being scarcely able to move, unable to see or speak, virtually unable to hear, threw Melody to the verge of hysteria. She screamed against her gag and bucked and struggled frantically. All thoughts about what might be going on ‘outside’ fled her mind. She wanted only to be out of the tight smothering confinement. But all she succeeded in doing was to hurt her wrists and arms. During the next ten minutes she struggled to exhaustion, not knowing that she was being watched superciliously by Montague squatting on the lower steps and by Karl sitting on the three-legged stool. Eventually Melody became quiet and lay still, swooning from her exertions and through lack of oxygen.

Melody was vaguely aware of being propped up, freed from her hogtie, and lifted and slung over someone’s shoulder. The movement of her captor mounting the steps lay at the bottom of her consciousness. When she was thrown roughly onto a mattress she was only dimly aware that a heavy blanket was being wrapped about her body from neck to foot. She passed out as ropes were being tied around her from ankles to shoulders.

*

The derelict house stood silent in the empty, rain-glistening street. Three robbers sat planning their next moves in comfortable chairs, taking the luxuries of beer, wine, fish and chips, or pizzas and hamburgers, according to taste. In the growing alcoholic haze they became oblivious of their three terrified captives who languished bound and gagged in other parts of the building. Each had separate rooms. Each was alone. They lay cocooned in worlds of their own, incapable of moving, speaking, seeing or hearing, scarcely able to breathe in the occluding covers that encased their heads and faces.

‘Whish one will we shtart on firsht?’ asked Montague as he took a large bite from a pizza slice.

‘Le’s do the li’l dark-hair,’ Karl slurred. ‘She’s gotta know sumpin, comin like she did to thiz place.’

‘Yeah, but that Melodish Hazzad, she’s the one what really knowsh where the dimon’ got to,’ Montague countered.

‘Duhh hmmmph,’ grunted Hudson from somewhere in the back of the room where he lay on a sofa. Heavy snoring soon followed his contribution to the debate. Montague shrugged impatiently and continued.

‘Look here, Karl. You might got a score to settle wi’ that woman, but it ain’t helpin our job any. Lez get Mish Hazzad t’talk first. Then yoush c’n do wh’ you like wi’ that other one. Okay?’

Karl nodded but there was a dangerously obstinate set to his jaw.

‘An we gotta look aroun for another place,’ Montague went on. ‘That "li’l dark-hair" as you call her might have told her friens where she was goin.’

‘Don’ worry ‘bout that,’ said Karl belligerently, ‘I got ways a makin her talk.’

I gotta watch this one, thought Montague more soberly. He’s likely to blow our job sky-high. God what a caper! Stuck with a moron and a sicko! Montague took another pull from the wine bottle in his hand.

*

Melody could not stop herself from shaking and crying. Tears pooled under the soft leather stretched tightly across her eyes and ran slickly down her cheeks. She could taste their saltiness as they penetrated slowly to her sealed lips. Try as she might, she could not shake the panic that had sent her over the edge less than an hour before when the helmet was strapped on. It was only exhaustion that had quieted her struggles. That, and the impossibility of fighting hard when the effort only resulted in breathlessness. The continual feeling of being smothered and the claustrophobic darkness in which she was plunged were unbearable. In a brief return to common sense she admonished herself to get a grip on her fear. But it was useless. In another moment she was screaming through the gag and fighting the bonds again, until exhaustion set in once more. Would this torture go on all night? She lay on the mattress shivering and whimpering inconsolably.

She was unable to hear all but the loudest sounds, and in the quiet dockside suburb of broken down tenements it meant that her enclosed world was silent. So, when it came, the touch of another person’s hands made Melody start up with a shock of sudden terror. What more was to be done to her now?

Melody let out a thin throaty wail. But a hand patted her shoulder reassuringly. At the same time, she felt the strap being loosened from around her head where it covered her eyes. The heavy pressure over her face eased a little as the strap came away. Next the zippered covers over her eyes were undone. By the time Melody’s eyes had become accustomed to the glimmer of light in the room, her benefactor was gone.

Being able to see again was such a relief that Melody burst out crying, and it was some time before her eyes cleared sufficiently for her to take stock of her surroundings. It was night, and raining in the street outside. But a faint flicker of light entered the window fitfully from a distant street lamp, while every so often the clouds scudded free from the moon which was almost full. Melody was able to distinguish the outlines of the window frame and the broken chair near it, and the edge of the mattress on which she lay. And sometimes the moon. She turned her head to one side and made herself as comfortable as possible to wait out the night. The ropes hurt. Her arms had almost no feeling in them. But the faint shapes in the room were her lifeline to reality. Melody’s breathing eased up. She could get enough air in two thin streams through her nostrils and she relaxed consciously in her bonds.

Who had granted her this tender mercy? Melody recalled the exasperated look on Montague’s face when Karl was tying Mia. But was that fellow really likely to do such a thing? Then she remembered something else. Back in the jewellery store where it had all begun, the big man Hudson had doubled back from the other gang members and freed her wrists. I’ll put my money on you, Hudson, thought Melody. You dear man. Whoever it is, I owe you a debt of gratitude I won’t forget.

*

Mia Chantal lay in another room on a thick bundle of blankets that served as a makeshift bed insulating her from the wooden floor. Her mouth was tightly plugged, her eyes and ears sealed within the helmet just like Melody. But no one came to relieve her misery. She could not move her arms and there was very little she could do to raise or twist her body in any direction because she was trussed up in two layers of rope, one inside the tight satin wrappings and the other a lace-work outside.

But, unlike Melody, she did not succumb to panic. For one thing, she was almost unconscious from the cold, the pain of being suspended for so long from the cellar beam, and the smothering effect of the helmet. But, most importantly, she was warm for the first time since her chloroforming and captivity earlier that afternoon, hours ago. The layers of satin that enveloped her saw to that.

Mia closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift. She did not fight her bonds. I’ve been tied like this before by that awful man, she thought. I can take it. I’m warm. I can breathe okay. I don’t think he’ll hurt me badly right away. He wants to gloat over me. He wants to show his power over me, and stretch out his revenge for as long as possible.

Mia remembered that during her earlier captivity at Snedley’s hands the man had done things that worked in her favour. He made mistakes. I guess it’s a delicate balance between being claustrophobic and warm, she thought. And for now I’ll take the warmth thank you. Mia tried to think of everything she had ever read or heard about occlusion and sensory deprivation. All the stories about submersion tanks and the deep satisfying relaxation that floating in them can bring. In her present plight, she was in an analogous situation, except that her sensory deprivation was imposed on her and was inescapable. She wondered whether she might have an out of body experience. She had read about that somewhere.

*

Jasmine Morris was possibly the most comfortable of the three prisoners, but she was also cocooned, and terrified out of her wits.

While Melody and Mia were carried out each in turn and taken somewhere, Jasmine was left sitting against the post alone in the cellar with her arms raised above her head. Later she was revisited by Montague. He smelled strongly of alcohol. Her arms were freed briefly, then bound behind her back at wrists and elbows. Her legs were tied at ankles and knees and she was laid on her side on the bed in a corner of the cellar.

The thick cloth tied between her jaws was tightened so that it would be impossible to work out of her mouth over her chin. Another cloth was bound very tightly around her head so that it covered her eyes. It held a pad of silk in place over her eyelids, doubly sealing her sight. Next her knees were bent and her ankles tied to her wrists in the same sort of hogtie that Melody had suffered.

Jasmine raised her head and shook it, emitting feeble whimpering sounds. Her fingers stretched and quivered, not really searching for a knot. It was more a reflex action. Montague paused above her. Then he spread a blanket over Jasmine and topped that with a large sheet of heavy canvas, covering the girl completely from head to foot. He tied it down to each corner of the bed. Jasmine lay pinned on her side unable to move, fighting for every breath through the two layers of blanket and tarp.

Although she was terrified, Jasmine’s thoughts were more optimistic than those of Mia or Melody. She knew that others had knowledge of her whereabouts.

Chapter 9

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