They gave her water, though not before they had amused themselves by trickling it anywhere but on her lips.
When the strong man saw her bend her head, trying to lick the water from the muslin of her own dress, he laughed excitedly.
The scar-faced man looked at him with disgust. Perhaps that was what made him decide to reach around and cut the cord that bound Maria’s wrists.
“She’s not going anywhere,” he said.
Even with her arms free, Maria had to have the jug held to her mouth: her hands were swollen and the muscles in her arms could not obey her.
“Changed your mind yet?” The scar-faced man held her by the chin. Maria closed her eyes, waiting for the sting.
Instead, he pushed her away. “We’ll see you again, pretty one. Don’t you worry. We’ll be back.”
They left her in the darkness. She heard the bolts ram home through the thick door, and she folded her fingers over the raw skin on her wrists and wept.