But the presence of scones didn’t tell me where everybody was. It did tell me I was in the right house, though, so I guess that was something.I walked along the hallway to The Parents’ room. I knocked quietly on the door and waited a moment. Silence answered that knock, too. After a moment of listening to silence and not learning very much, I pushed the door open and looked inside. There was a definite absence of Parent in the room.“Hmm,” I said to myself. “Curious!”I walked back to my room and went inside. There was an unknown backpack sitting on my bed. One of our camping mattresses had been stretched out on the floor beside my bed and a sleeping bag was laid out neatly on the mattress. A pillow with a clean white pillowcase sat at the end of the mattress, looking like it belonged there.“Curiouser and curiouser,” I said.I looked again at the backpack. I still didn’t recognize it.“Hello,” I said to the backpack. “Who do you belong to?”It didn’t answer.I turned and looked at the. But she could have slept anywhere in the terrible state she was in.For three more days she had been ordered back to that awful room, crying and pleading for mercy, assuring them in a piteous voice that she would never be guilty of uncooperative behaviour again. Each time they had put her through the same three punishments always ending up with the metal clips and the current slicing into her womanhood.As she lay on the beach and listened to the seagulls and the waves beating on the shore and against all the treacherous rocks which surrounded the island, she remembered again the horrible odour of singed pubic hair and retched for the thousandth time. She tenderly felt the affected parts and was relieved to see and feel that they were healing up nicely at last.It was a thunderstorm that had saved her. One night, as she waited for the sleeping quarters to open for her, a bolt of lightning struck both the island's transformer and standby generator and the camp was without current. Emma.
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