Helena shot upright in bed.
The nightmare shattered instantly.
She gasped for breath, drenched in sweat, trembling violently beneath the blankets.
She was shivering all over.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Lord, forgive me!” Helena cried.
Colonel Larkin, who had just come off guard duty, heard the commotion and knocked on the door. There was no response. He could hear her cry.
“Helena, are you alright?” he called out from his side of the door.
Helena covered her mouth to stifle her crying.
Larkin was not angry with her. He was a tired soldier, concerned about his friend.
“Helena, I’m concerned about you. May I come in?”
He could still hear the Carmelite crying in her cell.
“A simple knock will suffice for a yes.”
There was a long pause. And more crying.
Finally there was a knock.