You sit in the carriage next to that boy and his father on the opposite side. You're tired, not knowing exactly where they're bringing you, but after what happened today, you're happy to be gone. The boy's face is flushed from the cold. He seems like a nice boy, but you're too exhausted to care. You think of mother and father, who you left behind, but feel no sadness—they never loved you anyway. You're away now.

The carriage stops.

The man speaks: "We're here. Come, let's go inside, sweetheart."

You step out and walk behind the man. As you enter, a woman who looks like she just got out of bed—understandable, since it's midnight—greets you.

Mrs. Forester asks: "Dear god, what happened to this girl?"

The man responds: "Let's discuss that later. Bring her to the other girls, will you? And get her out of those clothes. And tell your dear husband I'm sorry for interrupting this late at night."

Mrs. Forester replies: "Of course, my lord. Come, we don't have all night."

The woman pulls you along as you glance back at the man and his son, wondering what awaits you inside.