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The first thing I noticed was her cello. It was resting on a stand with the bow hanging behind it, in front of a little gas-log fireplace that she lit, in a living room that was hardly an antechamber. She went around the place lighting candles everywhere. I couldn't be sure—not yet—If she was making it romantic for me, or if she always kept it like that, like an Emily would. I went to use the bathroom while she began preparing dinner. It shouldn't have surprised me to find two candles burning in front of the mirror. They made me want to leave the lights off entirely.Back in the living room I brushed my fingers along the body of the cello. The finish was so old it was textured instead of perfectly smooth, and the fire shone only dimly on it, reddish, dark gold, in auras that shifted with the flame. When my arm touched the bow it swung back and forth.Elizabeth had arranged her music in a little shrine—the cello, the chair, and the sheet music stand placed around the fireplace. It fit. Emma doesn’t get fucked a lot in the next few chapters, but I’m still developing some important characters. Chapters 8 to 11 follow almost immediately. There may be more, but only if you want it. Please take the time to give me your reactions – for good or ill. Please vote! Thanks for your interest} Emma barely remembered the next several hours. The nurse brought her a pill and a glass of water. ‘My name is Kathleen,’ she started. ‘I’ll just get you cleaned up a bit, and then the doctor will see you. This is a pain-killer, and a mild sedative. It will help you relax.’ Dimly, Emma recalled being washed and bathed. Her sore, tortured body was rubbed with healing ointments. A female doctor examined her from top to toe, making copious notes. She was X-rayed, and a digital camera recorded the marks on her skin. Finally, she was laid in a comfortable bed and given a sleeping pill. Within minutes, she had drifted off into a welcome slumber. The following morning, she awoke, feeling a little.
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