Not much," she says, then looks at me timidly, like a beaten animal."I understand," I say. She deserves that. Let her suffer. Such as her ... I just ..... hate her, that's it.She is crying. Her chin trembles pitifully. But I'm not impressed at all. Without much haste I sit behind the desk and write the document with which she should go to the X-ray department.The orderly rolls her out without bothering to be as careful as not to crash the stretcher in the doorframe. I sit and wait. There are no. She woke up in strange surroundings. Her legs hurt like hell and when she rubbed her hand on them, she could feel the stitches. Then she remembered the bear and the old man. She looked around the small cabin but he was nowhere in sight. She tried to get up but she was too tired and too hurt to move very much. She looked at the dried blood splattered on her legs. Her pants were gone! How had they gotten off? She saw them draped over the arm rest on the settee by the fire. Well, if he didn’t rape. More

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