It was... almost disappointing to see Victor headed immediately for the courtesans. Alice didn't know why she felt like that. It was none of her business, after all. She headed to bed after that, one of the younger girls hurrying forward to make sure that she found her way She undressed that night, feeling relatively safe for the first time since the time in the garden. This wasn’t Victor’s bed; it was her bed for the night. This was a house of women, not men – and the furnishings showed it. She was clean, and satisfied, and in fact slightly happy. She fingered the pendant on her neck between thumb and fingers, and headed to open the window for some fresh air. That had been an unexpected gift, a good turn of events. She was glad of it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she sighed contentedly and swung her legs up. The linen was clean and smelled faintly of soap. The mattress was soft, far superior to that of Victor’s. Relishing the feeling, she huddled beneath the duvet and slipped off into sleep. And it was far better than that of last night, or the night before. Dreamless.

~~~

She woke up.

Darkness. 

Heat.

Sweat. 

Beer.

Man.

A hand clapped over her mouth and her scream was muffled. It was the man from earlier, the one who had shouted at her gleefully.  He had been drinking, but not so much so that he wasn’t in control. He was larger than her, and heavier, and he loomed above her like some evil creature. He wasn’t particularly ugly or particularly large. Ordinary, but terrifying. Alice was panicked. It was obvious what he wanted to do. She pleaded from behind his dirty hand, his sweat salty on her lips and tongue as she struggled. Rape was seldom talked about in polite conversation, but she knew about it. She'd once found one of her handmaids sobbing behind one of the statues in their garden. Her story had been heart wrenching. 

There was a bite of cold metal against her throat as the man growled for her to stay quiet. Her green eyes widened with terror as he started to tug at her undergarments. She struggled more, and whipped her head to the side to let out a strangled scream. In this house, it could be mistaken for a scream of pleasure. He slapped her head so hard it made her ears ring, and the knife pushed further against her neck. It split the delicate skin, blood running down the side of her neck. She was hyperventilating now as he fumbled with her clothes, sobbing behind his hand again. “Shut up, you stupid bitch,” he growled. “Some kind of prissy princess type, eh? I had to have you,” he said, words slurring. Oh, how she wished she was back on the boat. How she wished for anything other than this, pain like she’d never known coursing from her neck and her heart. This wasn’t only physical. This was pure trauma. "Please," she sobbed, although her words were muffled. "Please, no..."