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It's the little things.
Hmm, would it be so bad if he just left me here to die? At least if he did run off, then I would be free of his torment. I haven't enjoyed the psychological torment he's been throwing at me recently. I don't appreciate him using my weakened state to taint the memories I have of my men.
They love me, and they are coming for me. The only thing I should be questioning is how long I can hold on. Because the dried blood streaked from my scarred lips and down my cheek is not a good sign of whatever damage he inflected when he kicked me.
Shit. Kay, now what?
Adjusting myself again, I manage to twist enough to look around the dark clearing a bit. I cringe at the state of my soiled panties and gross dress. Kyle is absolutely nowhere in sight. Except the car is still here, and it's fucking running. That asshole is wasting gas just to run the goddamn heater, I bet.
He's lucky his pet hasn't died out here yet or runoff.
Wait.
Twisting again, I find the zip ties on my ankles to be holding on by a thread. That damn root that caused me so much extra pain wins my forgiveness. This is my chance.
I'm running. This is happening.
I don't know where, but I swear anywhere is better than being with my fucking rapist. It's only a matter of time before he kills me or uses me. I don't know what has him so unhinged this time around, but I'm not sticking around to find out how this ends.
I'd rather find my own ending.
Gritting my teeth to keep my whimper of pain quiet, I yank my ankles apart.
Ohmygod. My mouth makes an 'O'. Completely shaken by how effective that was, I stare at my now free legs and let my feet dance in joy.
Deja Vu hits me, remembering how my feet did this same little jig after I got the shackles off the first time. A small smile forms, realizing how far I've come, and yet, I have always saved myself.
You know, give or take a few years.
My smile stays all the while my teeth chatter away as I prepare myself to move. It's been a while since I walked. What...five or six days?
The deep breath I take sends sharp pains through my chest and stomach as they rise. I don't have any idea how to evaluate what might be wrong with me, but I know for a fact that I need to get moving.
Like, now.
It takes a tremendous amount of effort to swallow the pain-filled sounds that want to escape. I yank on my wrists, but they won't budge; having been replaced multiple times. Huffing out a frustrated breath, I crawl to my knees while doing my best to ignore the rippling pain ringing through my whole body.
It's fine. This is fine. Just get somewhere far away, then you can rest.
My pep talk works wonders, the self-encouragement guiding my feet to the ground. I avoid the fact that they can barely hold my shaking body up. Nothing wrong with some avoidance in the grand scheme of things, am I right?
My ratted black hair falls around my shoulders and face, the perfect camouflage for the dark night. Another morbid idea for a Halloween costume added to the list.
I cringe as my knees and hip pop, a sign of their misuse. A hiss slides through my gritted teeth as I shuffle my bare feet along the jagged ground.
What are a few more cuts?
A red flag waves in my mind telling me that my inner monologue isn't normal. Giving it a mental thumbs up, I admit that I'm definitely not in the right state of mind. I huff a quiet laugh...even that was coo-coo.
For coco puffs.
My stomach rumbles like a stampede of horses descending. Hopefully, it didn't rattle the car, and the dipshit asleep inside of it.
Rationally, I know that it's unrealistic for my stomach to cause an earthquake...but irrationally...I swear I made the ground move.
The sharp jap of a pointy rock in my foot has me snapping back to reality.
Damn.
