The question was answered when the major came to see me; late on I think the sixth, or maybe the seventh night, I’m not entirely sure. There’s a very big difference though; I won’t rape you; there’s no point to it. Indian Sex My mood isn’t your fault, and you’re not a filthy tart of any kind. I couldn’t have stopped myself talking to my interrogators, and I knew that. When the major popped her head around the doorway briefly, gave me a big thick book to read, “To prevent boredom,” she said; a cup of hot cocoa to drink, and half a family pack of digestive biscuits to snack on, “To keep your energy up,” it made just made me feel even worse. The meal wasn’t wonderful; a bowl of tomato soup and four slices of bread; but the bread was fresh, the soup was hot, and so was the tea that came with it. How long do you think would it be until they began to rape me, for being nothing more than a German bitch who had the bad luck to get caught, and who was going to be entertainment, until they got bored with the sport, and murdered me?
