.. you must believe me...”“I can’t... I can’t... not yet... after all that has happened...”And at that, Julia burst into a torment of tears and fell to the floor. She clawed the carpet, twisted and turned as if in torment. Maybe it was a kind of joy which could not yet be truly believed in.“Take your time, Julia,” said Quentin complacently. “It will work itself out, all you have to do is convince yourself that you are no longer my slave. In fact, as I once gave you to her, now I give her to you. Do you understand that?”Julia shook her head. “No... M-Master... sorry... I mean... just no. I don’t understand it yet. I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t even believe it true, not after all that has happened...”Quentin caressed Julia’s dark hair as if she were a c***d. “I think I do understand, and I don’t expect miracles. I just want you to rest and relax. Get well again. Change your mental attitude. I’m not demanding anything. Frankly, perhaps I just want to make amends.”There was a blank look. One Saturday night, not an amazingly busy one, I was having a drink with Alice, another barmaid, while we both waited for the manager to add up the takings and put them in the safe until Monday. I was twenty-one at the time and unattached. Alice was a year younger with a regular boyfriend. We were chatting about this and that, waiting for our lift home when, suddenly, two men with stocking masks over their heads burst in and brandished what looked like an air pistol at us. I wanted to giggle, frankly, but I wasn't taking any chances. The manager, Pete, came out of his office and handed over the money without a word, since that was what they were obviously after.Although the money was all they wanted, they nevertheless guided both me and Alice over to a couple of pillars which supported the roof and handcuffed us with our arms behind our backs. As for Pete, they sat him down on a chair and used rope on him. "That should keep you away from the phone, until we're well away," muttered.
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