As an hour passed, and then another, Ava's apprehension had quite effectively quashed all positive and hopeful thoughts.

She wanted to be strong. But periodically she heard groups of men nearby arguing and laughing and roughhousing. Her heart was racing out of control; her skin was damp but cold to the touch, despite the oppressive heat in her pen.

Ava didn't need to understand Arabic or have remarkable intuition to guess what the topic of conversation was. When the time came, should she fight? Should she passively submit? Or maybe she should give-in to Mahmoud's demands and confess.

If this were an old movie, Mahmoud would have been played by Valentino, and he would have done nothing more dastardly than provoke a bout of jealousy when Adam dashed-in to the rescue. In a contemporary movie, six Black Hawk choppers would swoop in with Adam and a team of Navy Seals to massacre Mahmoud –played by an ugly character actor– along with all his moronic minions.

But this was no movie, and Mahmoud was not acting. Ava knew he was going to use and abuse her every which way but loose. And despite the fear overcoming her, she was yet capable of rational thought; she knew giving in to Mahmoud's demands would only serve to delay the inevitable horror a short while. Her ultimate fate was sealed. She prayed Adam had somehow survived and would notify the authorities and her relatives. Other than that, there was no hope. She may as well maintain a level of pride and truth: She would not give Mahmoud the satisfaction of seeing her groveling. Instead, she would sacrifice only her body, and her life, to these barbarians.

A while later, the level of activity and noise outside her hut surged. Men were shouting and running about. Even from her muffled confines, Ava could tell there was considerable excitement throughout the village. Savages! she thought. Civilized men could not be cruel and heartless enough to derive such enjoyment from the impending abuse of an innocent. It sickened her and set her skin crawling. She knew the first bout of her unspeakable Hell was imminent. She tried desperately to summon up a vision of Adam's disarming smile and shining green eyes. She imagined his confident, reassuring voice.

The shouts and sounds of running feet faded into the distance. Ava was incapable of drawing a breath as she waited for the door of her pen to fling open and reveal the victorious pig who had won first shot at her.