Her eyes fill with tears again "please no I'm so sorry I deserve to be punished please punish me." She begs. I walk towards two who stands and bows as I look at him; I put my hand on his chest and kiss him softly on the lips, my right hand moving past him to the little shelf behind him. Picking up a black handle dagger I pull away from him and smile as I turn back to one. I cut the rope from her wrists and watch her fall hard to the floor; her face smacks off the concrete as I bend down to cut the ropes from her feet. Taking her by the upper arm I drag her up, I notice the blood on her face caused by the fall and stop to look closely, running my finger through the blood and pushing against the broken skin pulling a whimper from her before pulling her out the back door. The ice cold winds wrap around my body making me shudder, I look at her naked body glad I'm at least clothed. We walk over to the middle of the garden and I stand her in front of me, and tell her to stand with her arms. A good sign. At least it wasn't blood or plasma or something even more exotic. Time to study the situation. Her brain seemed to be functioning okay. Good omens first -- she could see and hear and smell and read and think. She assumed she could probably taste -- all major senses accounted for. Good. She looked right: ten feet away a nurse sat in a comfortable chair, engrossed in a book. Intensive care of some sort -- obviously she, Carrie, the patient, was not to be left alone. Of course, with the nurse's nose in her book, Carrie might as well have been alone. Didn't anyone train these people? The arrangements suggested serious injury -- probably life-threatening, and not yet fully under control, perhaps? Carrie contemplated attracting Nurse's attention, decided against it. Not yet. She needed more data. She closed her eyes, let them dark-acclimate for a few seconds, then opened them one at a time, watching the light field and imagery change as each adapted -- things seemed.
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