I am thankful at least to have the hood removed. Still, I don't get a good look at the woman addressingme from the shade. Did I catch her name? No, not really. She just called herself "Ma'am."

My thoughts are interrupted as a calloused masculine hand wraps itself tightly around my right arm and starts to drag me still chained toward an ominous brick and stone building. "Ow, ow, ouch," I cry as I am walked over more of the sharp gravel." When my feet finally hit damp grass, "I cry what the fuck are you doing with me? Where the fuck am I?"

The man doesn't so much answer me, but he does offer something, advice maybe. "Hush girl, mind your manners, behave, do what Ma'am tells you, and you'll do okay here." With that he opens a wooden cellar door and leads me down a set of smooth stone steps.

My mind races wildly. 'Shit, they're going to lock me in a cellar,' I think, and sure enough he does. Peter reaches down and locks another length of chain to teh one conecting my ankles. I can see with his flashlingt that it runs to a metal plate fixed into the stone floor. "Shit," I mutter. Peter turns his flashlight up so I can see his crooked grin. He's enjoying this.

With a "good night miss," Peter disappears up the steps along with his flashlight, and closes the cellar door, leaving me alone, chained in the darkness.