Marion made the list shakily. It was hard to focus on the paper. She carefully ticked off the boxes while ideas and urges swirled up into her mind. The nub of the pencil felt awkward in her fingers still almost numb.  She shook her head as if to clear it. The scents of the boat, the diesel, sweat and acrid mixture of fear and refuse made an alchemy in her chest, a itching desire to lay hands on these girls.<br/><br/>She looked up the row of cages, their hunched and bent captives shadowed in their collective desperations. Her blue eyes seemed clear but she had to blink a few times to get the extra images to fade back in the shadow. In the darkness beyond the cages, she could sense the figures, the dark audience waiting for her to perform. She devoutly wished Plato had not left her alone like this. She never did good things when she was alone, never made good decisions.<br/><br/>Shifting the clipboard back to its place hanging from the support girder she sidled back to the cages.<br/><br/>“Don’t worry, when we start all you have to do is what you’re told and everything will be okay.” She said to them but she wasn’t certain who was listening. They each seemed to be wrapped in their own thoughts.<br/>