Clotilde had begun to become concerned that Marie still hadn't come back from her walk. Worries flashed through her head, she's gone to O-, hasn't she? What's happened to her?

Clotilde decided that she had to go and look for her. Walking along the open road, she began to feel a terror, a vulnerability she had never felt before. If someone were to attack her, she would be completely helpless. A realization that she couldn't defend herself, couldn't protect herself dropped on her like a ton of bricks.

She'd been around O- a few times when she was younger, but now it was largely speaking unfamiliar. She could see German soldiers standing together at the corners, smoking and talking. She balled her hands into fists and tried to focus on looking for Marie. She noticed a café in the centre of town, and balked when she saw it was full of German soldiers. Taking a deep breath she opened the door.

She looked around and sighed disappointedly when she saw that Marie wasn't there. She had barely turned to leave when a familiar voice cut through her like a blade.

"Bonjour, Clotilde." Clotilde turned and saw him, and immediately backed up defensively.

"B-bonjour."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled, "Following me, are we?" he asked jocularly, "would you like a coffee."

Clotilde tried to force herself to smile, but her mouth wavered, and said quietly, "No, Mons- Colonel, I need to get on,"

"I see," he replied amicably, before lowering his voice and asking darkly, "Looking for Marie?"

Clotilde's heart seemed to stop, and her eyes widened. "No." She lied weakly,

Landa smirked, "You're a terrible liar, Clotilde."

Clotilde frowned, and began to feel angry, "I need to go home." She replied quietly, and turned to leave.

Landa pursed his lips and hissed, "Au revoir."

Marie knelt in front of the body. She was shaking slightly, but with exhilaration rather than fear; there was something immensely satisfying about watching German blood finally being spilt rather than French. Watching him being beaten to death had made her queasy, yet she couldn't pull her eyes away.

Marie looked up at the group of men standing around her, and she murmured, "Thank you."

Aldo and Donny were standing apart from the group, occasionally looking up from their discussion.

"We can't leave her here."

"Why not?"

"She's implicated in this. The Gestapo-"

"And what's she gonna do? Be a fuckin' camp follower? Fuckin' being the operative word, of course."

Aldo grimaced, "Ya pervert, enough of that. I'm sure we could find something useful."

He turned away from his comrade and walked towards Marie.

"Can you cook?

Marie nodded nervously.

"Clean? Sew?"

"Y-yes." She mumbled, as Aldo turned back to Donowitz and shouted,

"See? We'll leave her off with the resistance once we get to Paris."

Clotilde got home at about six; she went to her room almost immediately, and found the dress she had worn the first time Landa had raped her. She lifted it gingerly from the floor where it had been left (she had been sleeping in the library since they had left). It smelt of stale urine and was badly discoloured.

She carried it between her fingertips to the library, and got on her knees to light a fire in the fireplace. When it was finally blazing she tossed the dress into the flames.

She sat down on her chair and sighed. She would clear her old bedroom tomorrow. Maybe then her life would be almost normal again.