Proserpina

From the snatches of the conversation and the tone of my captors, I guessed that Lucien had arrived after the blast. So my lover was still alive, and I knew he was relentless; he would keep looking for me. That gave me hope.

I sat still, my legs stretched out in front of me. It was late, I supposed. The room was dark. A dim light glowed high up in the ceiling, a bare bulb. I knew that it was too high up for me to clamber up to. Apart from the bed, there was no other ...