The stillness of the small figure in the bed makes Marta wonder fleetingly if she has died. She is as motionless as stone, arms lying limply on top of the blankets, until Marta gently touches her cheek. Reacting with great fear, she jerks her body backwards, hitting her head against the wall behind her. Marta can see abrasions and marks on her lower face and around her wrist. They stand out cruelly against her smooth flawless skin. Dark eyes fluttering open, she looks at Marta, who sees recognition stirring in their depths. She seems incapable of speech and makes no sound, but watches warily as Marta sets about caring for her wounds and bruises.
Marta wets the rags she has brought with her in the brine solution and cleans the open cuts. The sight of the puffy and discoloured side of her ribcage brings tears to her eyes. She shows…
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