NB - this chapter contains a scene of torture, please don't read if you find this sort of thing upsetting.
Hellstrom had the guard take her to a cell. It was small; dark, damp. She sat on the bed and it heaved under her weight.
"Fräulein." He said officiously, nodded and left the cell, locking the door behind him.
Clotilde lay down on the bed. Hellstrom's words kept flashing through her mind. Intense interrogation? What did that mean? Torture? She wondered if she would ever leave this place alive.
Eventually she managed to drift off to sleep – only to be woken at around 3 am as the door was thrust open. Two soldiers marched in; Clotilde had barely sat up on the bed when they seized her arms and took her from the room. They led her through the prison to a small, badly lit room in the basement. She could hear people screaming, and shuddered.
The heavy metal door was wrenched open and Clotilde was thrown in. She stumbled and fell to her knees in front of a figure seated in a wooden chair at a table. She could see he was dressed differently to the Gestapo officers; it was only when she fell and saw the boots that her stomach sank.
"Bonsoir, Clotilde." He said, "Stand up so I can see you."
Clotilde got to her feet nervously, pulling her skirt out to straighten her dress. Landa's mouth curled into a smile. He stood up and began pacing up and down the room.
"Well, Major Hellstrom has told me he caught you lying. But we already knew that, didn't we?" He said lightly, "Now," as he said it he turned and took a fistful of the hair on the back of her head, "We're going to find out what you know."
"I don't know anything." Clotilde said quietly.
"Well, that may be so – but we won't let it get in the way of our fun, will we?"
Landa postulated that if she did know anything, she would give it up easily. She was completely spineless – though he did wonder if she would be prepared to give up her sister. But mere fear of pain had her trembling and begging – he almost wished she were a bit more arrogant, that he might have something to break. But it's difficult to break what's already broken.
Clotilde swallowed deeply as he led her to the barrel of water; she struggled futilely as he submerged her head under the water. As her oxygen began to run out she began to stamp her feet – she was drowning. Just as she was about to give up and inhale water he pulled her out.
"What do you know?"
"I don't know anything," she shrieked, as he pushed her head back under the water. He kept this pattern up, but she still would not produce any information. Eventually he threw her to the ground and watched her cough and splutter to rid her mouth and throat of water.
"Please, I don't know anything," she said desperately as he walked towards her.
Landa laughed as he reached her, and landing a brutal kick to her abdomen, said "Mlle – I believe you. However, you must understand that we have a certain process."
He beat her viciously. She cowered and screamed through the whole thing. One kick hit her chest so hard she was sure he'd broken some of her ribs. Eventually he stopped, and seized her ankle to drag her across the room, her body leaving a bloody smear in its wake.
"Please," she cried, as she saw him take a knife from his pocket. "Oh God, please, no!"
Landa was merciless as he cut her clothes from her, the knife nipping her skin intentionally. She curled up defensively as he stood over her, dreading what was to come.
"Please don't rape me." She murmured meekly.
Landa snorted, "Clotilde, I certainly won't rape you. Several of my men have contracted gonorrhoea and syphilis since our stay chez toi." Clotilde gasped, "Fortunately I seem to have missed it – But now, Clotilde - I'm afraid a dirty, diseased whore is of no use to anyone."
Clotilde closed her mouth and swallowed deeply.
"What I am interested in, Mademoiselle, is humiliation."
He walked back to the pool of blood on the other side of the room, and barked, "Come here. On your knees." Clotilde crawled towards him, keeping her head down - she could feel hot tears pouring from her eyes, stinging her bruised face.
"The floor. Lick it clean."
Landa watched her intently, admiring the bruises he had left on her body.
"Please," she said, "If I knew anything I would tell you."
Landa smiled; she was weak, as he expected. But he kicked her again, and jeered, "Don't stop until that blood is gone."
Clotilde was made to walk back to her cell naked. Some of the other guards raised eyebrows at her, others whistled. She desperately wanted cover herself, to hide her shame. She was thrown into the cell wordlessly, the guard slamming the door closed behind her. The bed had only a thin, grotty blanket, though the room was freezing cold. She got under it and curled up in the bed. She tried to block out her worries about Marie, though they came to her, keeping her awake for most of the night. Death would have been preferable to this living hell.