“Where are you? Where have you gone?”

“I am here! I have always been here. It is you who always runs off and leaves me to pine for you.”

Nora stared through the darkness, her hands reaching out to touch his face, but she couldn’t see him.

“You must come back to me now, Nora. I cannot live like this anymore. Tell me where to find you.”

It was then she realized the man she was looking for was speaking English.

“What is your name?”

A silence met her question.

“Please, will you tell me your name? How do we know one another?”

“Nora? Is that you?”

She stepped forward into the blackness, both of her arms outstretched.

I know his voice. I feel it, and I… I know what he looks like… but…

“It isn’t you, is it? You have left me, haven’t you?” the stranger muttered, hurt coating his words. “I did not marry her. I came back for you, but you were already gone.”

“Marry who? Who are you?” Nora begged him. “I know your voice. I know you, but I can’t think of your name!”

Suddenly, a form flew past her, and she cried out as it grabbed her arm. She stared desperately at the silhouette, but he was still only a shadow.

“Where are you?” she cried. “Where can I find you?”

“Las Vegas.”

The shadow roughly pushed her away, and she reached out to grab his arm, but his movements grew rougher.

“Wake up!” he ordered. “Wake up now!”

“No!” Nora screamed. “This isn’t a dream!”

“Wake up! You’re speaking English!”

He was now speaking French.

“Nora, wake up!”

The final shove from the shadow caused Nora’s eyes to fly open, and she gasped as Jerome sat over her, his face a mask of anger.

“You’re home,” she mumbled in English, the words slipping from her tongue, and he slapped her across the face. Nora gasped, trying to shake the cobwebs from her mind.

“Why are you speaking English?” Jerome demanded. “Who did you speak to in town?”

Confusion swept through her as she struggled to sit up, the darkness casting a sinister shadow around Jerome’s features.

“You’re home,” she repeated, this time in French. He glowered at her.

“Get up,” he snapped. “Get up right now.”

Groggily, Nora struggled to oblige, the dream still clinging to the foggy edges of her mind.

“Why, what—what time is it?” she asked, even though that wasn’t the question she wanted answered. She wanted to understand why Jerome was waking her in the middle of the night. She wanted to know why she could speak English as if she had grown up with it, and if their encounter in London had ever truly occurred.

What is happening to me? Nora wondered as she placed her feet on the floor, a wave of dizziness overcoming her.

“I think I’m sick,” she mumbled. “I don’t feel well.”

“You aren’t sick,” Jerome said. “Collette put something in your tea to help you sleep. Just lean against me. I have a surprise for you.”

The words rolled around in Nora’s mind. Put something in my tea to help me sleep? Does she do this often?

Her brain was far too cloudy to feel anything except anxiety, but she allowed Jerome to take her arm as they walked into the sitting room.

He sat her on the sofa, and Nora shivered at the bite in the air. She looked uncomprehendingly around the darkened sitting room.

“Can we turn on the fireplace?” she asked. Jerome shook his head. “But it’s cold in here, and I’m sleepy,” she protested.

“No,” he said. “We are not staying here. We are going for a little drive, but you must be very quiet so as to not wake the household.”

“It is the middle of the night,” Nora mumbled. “Where are we going? Can’t it wait until morning?”

Jerome’s mouth became a slash of anger.

“You will do as you’re told,” he ordered her. “You should consider yourself lucky that you are getting anything after the stunt you pulled yesterday.”

Nora clamped her lips together and nodded in agreement.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “Just… let me just get dressed.”

“There’s no time,” Jerome replied. “I just want to ensure you are now contrite about actions yesterday.”

Nora bobbed her head.

“I am,” she conceded, her heart racing slightly.

It had been so long since Jerome had thought to bring her home a present, and she took it as a good sign. Perhaps, if he was in a good mood, he may be open to the idea of having a baby with her, which was a subject he had always shut down whenever Nora had tried to bring it up. If she could just start the conversation at precisely the right moment, she might get him to agree.

One day, I will find that perfect moment, she thought wistfully as she followed him through the second floor.

They stole away in the shadows, the wood not making the slightest creak beneath them as they moved. Jerome pressed his fingers to his lips as he pulled her coat from the front hallway and slipped it over her shoulders, glancing about to ensure that they were not being observed.

It was not until they were secured in his still warm BMW X6 that Nora dared to speak again.

“Where did you go this time?” she asked eagerly, living vicariously through his travels. Now that he had returned to her, she pushed her dreams to the back of her mind.

Your imagination was playing tricks on you in your loneliness, she thought, staring at her lover with wide, earnest eyes.

She had no explanation for her ability to speak English, but she reasoned there had to be a logical interpretation for it. Maybe she had learned it in school as a child.

Then again… there was so much of her childhood that she could not remember. In fact, now that she thought about it, Nora realized that she couldn’t recall anything from her life before she had met Jerome.

There had to be a reason for that as well.

“I was in Nice,” Jerome answered.

A strange flutter tickled her stomach.

“Nice?” Nora echoed. “Did we not meet in Nice? At the gala?”

Jerome cast her a sidelong look and nodded slowly.

“Of course we did,” he said, his voice slightly gruff. “Why are you asking me that?”

“It seems like so long ago,” she replied quickly, turning to look into the night. “Oh! Did you see anyone? My parents? Old friends?”

It seemed to be the wrong question for Nora to ask, and Jerome’s mouth became a fine, unmoving line of annoyance.

She didn’t press the issue, her eyes trailing toward the high-tech interior of the car. What would Jerome do if she flicked on the radio to hear some music? She didn’t even attempt it—he would probably chop her fingers clean off.

The green digits on the clock read 2:23 a.m., and Nora still could not reconcile what was so urgent that he could not wait until the light of day.

“What did you do in Nice?” she finally asked, the silence creeping into her bones.

“Business, Nora!” Jerome snapped. “What is with the ridiculous questions?”

Even though each of her questions apparently made Jerome more upset, Nora still wanted to keep asking him more.

“Chéri, have we ever been to London?” The SUV slid slightly on the ice, and Nora gripped the armrest, her heart racing.

“No.” His response was flat, sure, certain.

But Nora knew he was lying. Or, at least, she thought he was lying.

But why? she wondered to herself. Why would he lie? What difference does it make if we met in London?

She didn’t have time to ask anything else, because Jerome steered the car onto a lonely pathway and turned his full attention to the road in front of them. In the distance, Nora could make out the silhouette of a farmhouse looming in the blackness, illuminated by the half moon and thousands of stars above.

“What is this place?” she asked, glancing back toward the main road.

“You must stop questioning my every move!” Jerome yelled, and Nora jumped, instantly contrite. “You swore to be good, and you haven’t stopped since we left the house!”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He pulled the silver vehicle toward the front of the house, and Nora could see how worn down it was, as if no one lived inside. She saw no lights but a candle flickering in the front window, and her brow furrowed.

“Come along,” Jerome said, leaping from the car. “Don’t say a word. Do not make one sound, Nora. Do you understand?”

Nora nodded her head, but she was not sure she actually understood. Why was he being so secretive? What surprise could he possibly be keeping in a place like this? Her slippers crunching along the snow, she slowly followed him inside the house, her pulse racing wildly.

“Jerome, who—?”

“Shut up!” he snarled, grabbing her roughly by the arm. “Did you not hear me? You must not speak one word! Keep your mouth shut or you can wait in the car alone!”

“No!” Nora cried. “I—I will be silent.”

He glared at her, his blue eyes boring into her as if he intended to intimidate her into silence. Once he made sure she wouldn’t say another word, Jerome finally shifted his eyes away and led her further into the frigid house. Her eyes adjusted to the drafty, shadowy building, and as they walked toward the rear of the empty property, Nora heard a noise.

She froze in her tracks.

“Someone is here,” she whispered.

Jerome covered her mouth and pressed his index finger to his lips. He waved her onward, and soon they found themselves at a door leading into the basement.

“Go,” he told her, pushing her toward the stairs. Nora’s eyes widened with shock and fear as she realized what he intended to do.

“No!” she gasped. But he left no room for argument, shoving her harder, and Nora was forced to advance onto the first step. She whirled, expecting the door to close in her face—to her surprise, however, Jerome was following her down.

Of course he isn’t going to lock you down here, she thought, shaking her head at the inane thought. Why would I ever think such a thing?

She exhaled shakily, feeling the wall to guide herself down the rickety stairs. At the bottom, she heard a noise again. This time, she was sure it was something scuffling. Mice? Rats? She hoped Jerome wasn’t thinking of buying this house for her; it required far too much work, and it most likely had vermin already living in it.

Suddenly, a flash of light glowed from a match as Jerome lit a kerosene lantern, and Nora gazed about the freezing cellar. Jerome pointed at her back, a small, happy smile lighting his face. It made Nora shiver.

She turned to look, and when she saw the horrific scene in front of her, she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

A girl of about twenty sat quivering in horror on the floor, bound in thick ropes and a filthy gag around her mouth. She was inappropriately dressed for the weather, wearing only a thin sweater, a pair of jeans, and a flimsy pair of socks. Her blue eyes were wide with terror, and she tried to scream as she strained against her ties.

Nora’s knees buckled as bile rose to her throat, but Jerome was immediately at her side, supporting her.

“Nora,” he said, “this is Adrienne.”

“Wh-who is she?” Nora choked. “What is she doing here, Jerome?”

Jerome smiled broadly. “You are always talking about how you long for a child. I have brought you one now. She will be our daughter.”

Nora’s eyes bugged from her head as she gaped from the terrified girl to her lover. “Jerome, you cannot… we cannot…”

His eyes grew mean and small.

“What, chérie?” he demanded. “You do not want her now? You are never satisfied, are you?”

Nora flinched.

“No, mon amour, I—I love her!” she said quickly, fighting the wave of sick threatening to spill from her mouth.

Jerome’s face relaxed slightly, and he nodded.

“Bien,” he said. “She will stay here until she is ready to come home. I only wanted you to meet her. I was hoping that you could tell her how lovely our home is, as I don’t think she believes me just yet.”

Nora closed her eyes, blinking back her tears.

“Nora?” Jerome insisted, his voice growing dangerously cold.

“It is lovely!” she told the girl. “Perfect.”

“You see, ma chérie?” Jerome asked Adrienne sweetly. “I cannot wait for you to see it.”

Adrienne made an awful sound, a feral cry that seized Nora’s heart and squeezed it in its grip.

No, no, she thought to herself. I am still at home, in bed. The cabin fever has driven me to the edge of insanity and now I am having insane dreams. I don’t speak English. There is no man in London calling out for me, and my lover has not kidnapped a girl. I will wake in a moment and laugh at the bizarreness of what my mind has conjured up.

But she knew that what she was seeing was as real as the twisted smile on Jerome’s face.

It was only until Nora turned to Adrienne and focused her eyes on the girl’s petrified stance that she remembered… everything—everything her mind had either forgotten or locked away for her own sake.

Once upon a time, she had been sitting precisely where Adrienne sat now, helpless and shocked. She had been held in a cold cellar until she had lost all sense of reality, buying into the lies Jerome had told her while he starved her and pushed her to the brink of insanity before pulling her back, rewarding her when she regurgitated the story he fed to her fragile state.

Adrienne was not being brought to the house as their “child.” She was being brought in as Nora’s replacement, just as Nora had replaced the last girl.

She had never been Jerome’s lover. She had only ever been his captive.

The realization caused her to swoon, having to lean against Jerome so that she wouldn’t fall, but not nearly as much as the understanding that she had absolutely no idea who she really was.

“It is time to go, chérie,” Jerome said. “Say goodbye to Adrienne.”

“Goodbye,” Nora whispered as the girl stared on, her eyes bugging from her face.

Nora could feel the panic emanating Adrienne, and as she followed Jerome out of the dank cellar, both women seemed to have precisely the same thought: how long would it be before they died at the hands of a madman?