Clotilde, standing in the middle of a forest, as she did now, was completely aloof. She had almost stopped caring; rationalizing her thoughts – there was nothing worse she could experience, was there? What reason was there to be afraid? Repeated brutalisation had given Clotilde a contempt for her own life. Being treated like shit had made her unable to see herself as anything better.

Landa was right when he called her a coward, of course she was. An image of her parents' bodies lying there, covered in blood…because she had taken the coward's way out. She should have shouted fuck you at Landa and spat in his face like Sophie did, facing death at the barrel of a gun unafraid and untainted by moral doubt.

But the question of Marie still bothered her; she was the only reason that Clotilde didn't put the capsule in her mouth and be done with it.

Clotilde swallowed when she heard movement; men talking – they were coming nearer. She lay on the ground and tried to make herself seem as conspicuous as possible, covering her face with her hair. She bitterly suppressed the urge to get up and run.

She could hear them coming and squeezed her eyes shut. She wondered if Landa depended too much on the noble intentions of these men. The horrific prospect of a repeat of what happened in B- flashed through her mind when-

"Hey!" a gruff voice shouted, "what are you doing?"

Clotilde could feel soft hands touching her face, and reluctantly opened her eyes to see Marie staring down at her. She was already crying.

Clotilde wanted to immediately reach out and grab her, to hold her close, to tell her how sorry she was…

Clotilde's palms were sweating. Sitting opposite these men terrified her as much as being opposite the Gestapo. And she had never been a good liar.

"Now I want you to tell me," their leader said, leaning forward, "what the hell is going on."

Clotilde swallowed, desperately trying to remember her story.

"Marie is my sister." She choked out, her English heavily accented.

"That much I gathered."

"My parents were in the resistance. The Germans came to our house. My parents were shot. After they left Marie ran away, and I was arrested."

"Why?"

"They told me she killed a German."

He narrowed his eyes and leaned back. "How did you get here?"

A series of events flashed through Clotilde's mind and her eyes filled with tears. She struggled to remember the story.

"They brought me in a truck, they told me they were taking me to a camp in Germany. I managed to get out and run. I fell here." Clotilde's voice was wavering; its tone was unmistakeably false.

"How was a little girl like you able to get away from those bastards?"

Clotilde could see the suspicion in his face; her heart was racing.

"Some of them went for a cigarette. The one who was left fell asleep."

The man leant back and stared at her intensely. He shook his head, "No. No – I don't believe it. You're lying."

Clotilde cursed under her breath. This was it. This was the end.

"Please." She began, "He said he'd send me-" Clotilde's voice wavered and dropped to a whisper.

"I don't want to be involved in this. Let me leave with Marie. Please."

"Wait just a minute-"

"Please! They raped me!" She shrieked, tears filling her eyes as she began to become hysterical.

The man's eyes narrowed.

Clotilde's heart began to beat harder and faster; she felt her heart sinking as her fear of not being believed was realized.

"Do you want to see?" She screamed, anger filling her. She stood up before them, yanking up her dress to reveal thighs covered in bruises.

"Can you see? Do you believe me!" The man sitting opposite her turned his head away, deeply uncomfortable.

Clotilde began to babble in French, overcome with hysteria and frustration "Je dis ca, je dis rien – bof – je suis putain…ils ne croyent rien…les allemands- je devrais partir. Je dois partir…"

"Sit down, please." The man said quietly, averting his eyes from her.

Clotilde swallowed and sat down again. She wanted to be believed, not pity.

"Alright. I don't trust you. I'm getting sick of this, because I don't know what the fuck is going on with you two. There's a safe house around here, and I'm gonna leave you two there."

Clotilde nodded, immediately terrified, but also relieved.

It was night when they reached the house – it stood in the middle of the forest – grand and stately – obviously the house of someone of considerable wealth. Neither Clotilde nor Marie could see due to the darkness, but the house was attached to a church.

A middle aged priest answered the door.

"Can you take two?"

"Two what?"

"Girls."

"Girls?"

"They can explain for themselves. We need to go."

The priest looked mildly put out, but sighed and sought them out in the darkness.

Clotilde and Marie came into the house nervously. Marie was shaking, and Clotilde immediately sought out her hand.

"Your affiliation, please. I'd like to know where we stand." The priest said, walking towards the kitchen. He was speaking in English.

"Françaises." Clotilde said quietly.

"Is that all?" He asked sharply, switching to French.

"You aren't Communists?" He said.

"N-no." Clotilde answered.

"Do you believe in God?"

"Of course."

The priest sighed a sigh of relief.

"Good. God help France if those Marxists have their way."

Clotilde immediately thought of Renaud, and how alike these two men were; self-righteous and arrogant.

"Would you like something to eat?" He asked pleasantly, "Please, sit down." Indicating with his hand the table in front of them.

"So what's your story?" He asked, slicing a loaf of bread and unwrapping a block of cheese.

"Pardon?" Clotilde asked. Marie remained silent.

"They all have a story. There are others you see, hiding in the cellar."

"They killed our parents." Marie interjected tonelessly.

"Oh."

Clotilde looked over at Marie to see her face; she had an expression of complete despair and dejection.

The priest led them down a staircase, the entrance to which was hidden under a rug, which itself had a large chest of drawers covering it.

The cellar was in complete darkness; though Marie noticed three lamps hanging around the room. There were about another ten people in the room; although most of the space was taken up with racks of what she assumed was sacramental wine.

"I'll be down tomorrow morning with some food. There's not much privacy here, I'm sorry. There's two other women here though. But you can introduce yourselves tomorrow. There are some blankets over there."

Marie stared blankly ahead; Clotilde nodded. It was a change. But at least they were safe.