At first both women felt a slight sense of relief, a feeling of a danger averted. Each wanted to please Adam; neither knew her own place or the other’s; they were lonely and disoriented. Clara still lay huddled in her wetness, in the remnants of the Scotch, in Monique’s saliva and Adam’s spit. Monique had fallen on her side, her hands still cuffed behind her head. Soon, however, their relief turned hollow. They began to long for Adam’s return. Without him, they felt purposeless.

Hesitantly, Clara sat up and wiped her face with her hands, wrung out her dripping hair, combed it as best she could with her fingers. Monique continued to lie awkwardly on her side, one arm crushed beneath her head. She seemed to have fallen into some kind of catatonia. Still the room remained dark and Adam did not return.

After an additional interval, Clara heaved herself up and crossed the room slowly toward Monique. She was surprised at how stiff and achy she felt. When she reached Monique she slowly eased herself down by the other girl’s head. Tentatively, she began to stroke it without speaking. Monique was unresponsive. When her hand accidentally brushed against Monique’s bound ones, she was started to feel how icy cold they were.

“Monique, you have to sit up. I think you’re losing circulation. Let me help you.” Clara got her arms around the other girl and heaved her partially upright. Monique leaned heavily against her. She began to chafe the fingers and the wrists around the police cuffs. They were cruelly tight.

“Monique, thank you so much for standing up for me. It was very brave of you to tell Adam what you thought about the diaper. I really appreciated it.”

These words seemed to shock Monique out of her trance. “FUCK you!” she shrieked. “FUCK you, you STUPID cunt! Get the fuck away from me! I tried to help you, I said what I thought, and what happened? Adam fucking HATES me. I don’t fucking BELIEVE you! From the minute you walked in here, every fucking stupid move you’ve made has been golden. And me? Well, I’m not frigid, like you. I can come when a man touches me. And I’m not a fucking coward, like you. I can take whatever Adam gives me. And I’m not a fucking PRINCESS, waltzing around in some kind of ten thousand dollar lingerie EN-samble. So FUCK you! I will NEVER, NEVER, NEVER fucking stand up for you for ANYTHING! You STUPID, STUPID STUPID – – “ She seemed to run out of words here. She just leaned into Clara, sobbing hysterically. Clara, helpless, could only hold her, periodically patting her back and shoulders.

The lights, harsh and intrusive, suddenly came on, revealing Adam in the doorway, a sardonic smile on his face. He held a large bottle of water in each hand. A drop cloth was draped over one arm, and the fingers of one hand held a small bag. Both girls stared at him, frozen, their eyes wide. I always thought deer in the headlights was just an expression, he thought. He put his burden on the long wooden coffee table, opened one of the bottles, and poured its contents over Monique. “Shut up, you self-pitying idiot,” he said, retrieving a cloth gag from his pocket and shoving it into her mouth.

He opened the police cuffs and firmly rubbed the circulation back into the cold hands. Then, both women watching his every move, he opened the drop cloth on the floor and opened the bag. They stared at him, transfixed, as he spread a generous handful of uncooked rice in the middle of the cloth. He dragged Monique over by her hair and positioned her, kneeling, on the rice, her hands clasped at the small of her back. For a moment he massaged her shoulders and upper arms.

Without a word he emptied the second bottle of water into Clara’s mouth and left the room. The two girls just stared at each other.

In a moment Adam returned with – Clara blinked for a moment. Yes, it was a bottle of ketchup. He squeezed a reasonable amount of the red stuff onto the drop cloth around Monique, coming as close to her legs as he could while being careful to get none of it on her.

“Monique.” She looked at him. “Don’t move.”

“Clara. If you take one step to help her, I will know it and I promise you’ll regret it.”

Again he left; again he returned with more water. Silently he handed the bottle to Clara.

“Adam. . .” He just looked at her. “Please.”

Clara waited for a moment but received no response. Slowly she opened the bottle. Then she drained it, her eyes never leaving his.