Author's Note: As always, thanks for all your kind reviews. They really are appreciated. I am a bit afraid of what the response will be to this chapter; you'll see why when you read. Happy reading!

The Town

After hallucinating about hearing her name while entering the castle and swearing she saw a man lurking in the shadows of the balcony, Christine decided that she badly needed a shower.

Instead of hanging around the château for the evening, she decided to go see the town of Rennes. She told Mme. DesChanels of her intention. The docent promptly called a cab for Christine and gave her a brief description of the city's attractions.

The cab ride was not nearly as frightening as the first time and Christine arrived in the city with minimal queasiness. She strolled the cobblestone streets at an easy pace, tripping more than once over the uneven sidewalks. She ignored the various cat-calls and pick-up lines that were carelessly tossed her way while she was walking. One fellow was quite insistent and she had to actually tell him that she was not interested in what he had to offer her. She stopped in each boutique, making a few purchases: a cute shirt and a dainty teacup for Meg to add to her collection, a polo shirt for Raoul. For herself, Christine splurged on a cookbook of French cuisine, a French opera CD, a dark blue shirt, and fun multi-colored cocktail dress. She had the purchases delivered to the château for her convenience. She did not realize that by the time she finished shopping, it was 9 p.m.

'Time for dinner,' Christine thought as her stomach gave a mighty growl. She walked into a chic looking restaurant. She absorbed the posh atmosphere: a swanky bar that served only the finest drinks and small tables perfect for intimate conversation.

Christine weaved her way between the tables and snagged a window seat. She enjoyed being able to watch the pedestrians that passed. She observed their faces, postures, and overall air, imagining the lives they lived. It was the perfect form of amusement.

A ritzy old woman was the first character to pass the window. She was dressed in a leopard-print silk dress with gold bangles dangling from her wrists. Her lips were red, her eyes hidden by expensive-looking sunglasses. 'That old woman is a proud grandmother, but dislikes her son-in-law because of his social status,' Christine thought. 'That man is an ex-convict desperately trying to get his life back on the straight and narrow, but he is failing miserably,' she thought as a tattooed and miserable looking man passed. Two disgruntled-looking children were clutching their mother's skirt. 'And whining, by the look of their faces,' Christine thought. 'They want ice cream.'

She continued her observations through dinner .By the time Christine finished her meal, it was about 9:45.It was increasingly difficult to move through the sea of people.

'Crap, I have to get to the cab. And it's all the way across town!'

She paid her bill, but by then, it was too late. She resigned herself to walking.

'Well, since I have to walk, I might as well stay a little longer,' she thought, fighting her way to the bar. She ordered a drink and made her way to a corner to observe the Rennes nightlife. Young boys, 'Barely legal…' Christine guessed, were getting drunk and hitting on equally drunk and young girls. 'Ha, "young love"' Christine silently scoffed.

She finished her drink and decided it was time to leave.

'Hm, leaving at 10:30 at night in a strange citywithout a flashlight may not have been the best idea,' thought Christine. She walked from the cobblestone street to the gravel road that would take her to the château.

'At least the moon is out. The darkness is a bit more tolerable with the moon.'

When Christine was about 10 minutes from the château, the moon went behind a thick and ominous cloud. The gentle moonlight was all but extinguished. She was enveloped in almost total darkness now. Her only guides were the faint pinpricks of light from the château.

Christine suddenly had the feeling that she was not the only one to wander that lonely gravel road. She swore she heard a whisper.

'No, it's just the trees. The wind has picked up, that's all.' She looked at a tree to confirm her idea. It was still.

Christine heard the crunch of gravel beneath feet behind her.

"Just an animal, just an animal, just an animal," she whispered to herself, her voice cracking with fear.

Her fear was quickly mounting. The crunches, which she was certain now were footfalls, picked up pace. Christine broke into a run, but the being behind her had anticipated this move. He caught up to her easily. Full on sprinting now, Christine screamed in fright and pain as she felt fingers twine into her hair, pulling her backwards in an attempt to stop her. It worked. She instinctively turned around to lessen the pain.

It was then that Christine came face to face with her attacker. She had seen him before.

"You. You were the man on the street."

"Bingo," he growled, still holding fast to her hair.

Not knowing what else to do, Christine started to fight back. She reached her hands up and attacked his fist in her hair. She pinched, scratched, and clawed at his hands, feeling her nails dig deeper into his flesh with each raking, drawing his blood. Despite her abuse, he held fast, chuckling at her useless attempts. He had total control of her head, drawing her face close to his. His breath stung her nose. The astringent smell of alcohol made her gorge rise. He gave a cruel smile and Christine knew what was to come. His lips came crashing down onto her own, hurting and bruising. She whipped her head back and forth, hoping to throw off his disgusting mouth, but to no avail. He kept hold, now trying to force his tongue beyond her lips.

While his one hand was holding her head still, his other hand roamed over her body, harshly fondling her breasts and traveling up her skirt and trying to rip off her thin underwear. She thrashed her limbs, hitting and scratching him, trying to escape. She finally got an opening and brought her knee to his groin. This was the trigger. His hands came loose at once and he groaned in pain.

She started running again, putting distance between them. Christine thought she had successfully escaped, but her attacker recovered more quickly than she expected. He ran at her and tackled her to the ground. She fell face first onto the unforgiving gravel path, scarping her arms and chin. The man turned her over and was now straddling her. He slapped her in the face once, twice. Blood trickled from her nose and the corner of her mouth.

Christine was desperate. But no matter how much she struggled, she could not move him. Still, she fought. Tears were streaming down her face. She suffered another dazing blow to the face and blacked out a little bit.

It was as if she was lifted from her physical body, floating above it, watching what was happening with the horrified curiosity of a passerby. She watched herself put up only the smallest bit of resistance as the man pulled her skirt up around her waist and undid his zipper, unleashing the horror that Christine was inevitably going to experience.

All of a sudden, she was out of the air and back into her body. She braced herself for the pain she knew was coming. But the degradation never came. Instead, the weight of her assaulter was lifted from her. Christine could barely see through her tears. She curled up on the gravel, scared and embarrassed. She retreated into herself.

A mist was edging into the corner of her eyes.

Two indistinct figures were grappling close to her.

Darker now, the mist left only a small circle of vision.

Muffled grunts of a man who was now immobile on the ground.

Her world faded into blackness.

Christine felt herself being gently lifted by a pair of strong arms. The body that carried her was warm; Christine felt safe. She wanted to open her eyes, but knew she could not. Instead, she stopped struggling against her body and slipped into the comforting darkness of the unconscious.