can you speak to me?” Her only response was silence. Not one to give up, she tried to rise to her feet in an unsteady manner, falling back on her mat in frustration. Her injured wrist began to throb again, waking up hundreds of nerve endings that sent messages of hot, livid agony to her confused brain.
Gritting her teeth and taking long controlled breaths, she rose to her knees. Using her good arm to help propel her, she crawled away from her pallet. It was time to explore her prison. Maybe then she could assess her possibility of escape more intelligently. If she actually discovered the source of the sounds . . . well she would wait and see. But as much as she was loath to admit it to herself, she knew the sounds had been a leftover manifestation of her dreams and the loneliness of the dark that threatened to consume her.
Working slowly and cautiously, she tried to keep her bearing as she moved in a straight line. Her knees quickly rebelled from the rough floor of her prison, clearly not built for comfort. When she could no longer tolerate the punishment to her knees, she stood up on her feet. Throwing out her arms, she attempted to stabilize herself, her head reeling with vertigo. How can that be if I can’t see ?
Her dizziness thankfully receding, she inched her feet forward; one tiny step at a time. She held her good arm out before her and kept her injured one close to her waist to protect it, the wrapping on it heavy and cumbersome.
Under her breath, she counted each tiny step until she reached the number sixty one. Unless she’d started from the opposite wall, she imagined her enclosure wasn’t as small as she’d originally thought. She slid her good arm wide along the wall confronting her. It was a hard surface of a material she couldn’t identify; cold to the touch with the feeling of pliant marble. Pliant marble? she asked herself as the wall gave under pressure from her hand.
Giving her body a quarter turn, she traced the now frigid wall with her hand as she continued counting her small steps, hoping to understand the complete contour of the room and wind up back at her pallet where she could take refuge against the increasing cold.
She made her way along the wall with her wrap held tightly for warmth. She counted under her breath. Forty five, forty six, forty seven . . . Ow! Down she went with a resounding thud, her hand hitting flesh that moved with a groan to push her off onto the floor.
Realizing she’d just tripped over something alive, her nerves battled with her fight or flight response. Her loneliness won. Swallowing, she moistened her lips and breathed deeply, her voice seemingly absent.
“Hello?” she whispered. The silence threatened to overwhelm her. She reached out to touch, encountering a human shoulder. She shrank back, surprised. She admitted to herself that she’d fully expected an injured creature.
“Hello, can you hear me?” She ran her hand across his muscular chest, fumbling on his face. Her fingers danced lightly, absorbing his features. She felt the stubble of his beard confirming his sex and allowing her to guess he was mature. Her heart sang with the possibility he could help her.
The man groaned again and smacked his lips, his hand reaching up to clutch at her wrist—luckily her good one—and pulling her down to his face.
“Wa . . . ter, pl . . . pls.” The man mumbled and choked but she knew what he needed. Wrenching her arm away, she stood to inch her way back, retracing her steps and carefully counting her way. She couldn’t afford to get lost now.
Finding her way slowly back to her pallet, she knelt to feel for her protein mush and water. She could hear louder whines from the man as he reacted to her absence.
“Hold on, please. I’m getting you water.” She made her way back to the wall, carefully counting her steps, her burden held awkwardly, pressed between her good arm and her body.
She set the food and water on the floor when her foot signaled she
Gritting her teeth and taking long controlled breaths, she rose to her knees. Using her good arm to help propel her, she crawled away from her pallet. It was time to explore her prison. Maybe then she could assess her possibility of escape more intelligently. If she actually discovered the source of the sounds . . . well she would wait and see. But as much as she was loath to admit it to herself, she knew the sounds had been a leftover manifestation of her dreams and the loneliness of the dark that threatened to consume her.
Working slowly and cautiously, she tried to keep her bearing as she moved in a straight line. Her knees quickly rebelled from the rough floor of her prison, clearly not built for comfort. When she could no longer tolerate the punishment to her knees, she stood up on her feet. Throwing out her arms, she attempted to stabilize herself, her head reeling with vertigo. How can that be if I can’t see ?
Her dizziness thankfully receding, she inched her feet forward; one tiny step at a time. She held her good arm out before her and kept her injured one close to her waist to protect it, the wrapping on it heavy and cumbersome.
Under her breath, she counted each tiny step until she reached the number sixty one. Unless she’d started from the opposite wall, she imagined her enclosure wasn’t as small as she’d originally thought. She slid her good arm wide along the wall confronting her. It was a hard surface of a material she couldn’t identify; cold to the touch with the feeling of pliant marble. Pliant marble? she asked herself as the wall gave under pressure from her hand.
Giving her body a quarter turn, she traced the now frigid wall with her hand as she continued counting her small steps, hoping to understand the complete contour of the room and wind up back at her pallet where she could take refuge against the increasing cold.
She made her way along the wall with her wrap held tightly for warmth. She counted under her breath. Forty five, forty six, forty seven . . . Ow! Down she went with a resounding thud, her hand hitting flesh that moved with a groan to push her off onto the floor.
Realizing she’d just tripped over something alive, her nerves battled with her fight or flight response. Her loneliness won. Swallowing, she moistened her lips and breathed deeply, her voice seemingly absent.
“Hello?” she whispered. The silence threatened to overwhelm her. She reached out to touch, encountering a human shoulder. She shrank back, surprised. She admitted to herself that she’d fully expected an injured creature.
“Hello, can you hear me?” She ran her hand across his muscular chest, fumbling on his face. Her fingers danced lightly, absorbing his features. She felt the stubble of his beard confirming his sex and allowing her to guess he was mature. Her heart sang with the possibility he could help her.
The man groaned again and smacked his lips, his hand reaching up to clutch at her wrist—luckily her good one—and pulling her down to his face.
“Wa . . . ter, pl . . . pls.” The man mumbled and choked but she knew what he needed. Wrenching her arm away, she stood to inch her way back, retracing her steps and carefully counting her way. She couldn’t afford to get lost now.
Finding her way slowly back to her pallet, she knelt to feel for her protein mush and water. She could hear louder whines from the man as he reacted to her absence.
“Hold on, please. I’m getting you water.” She made her way back to the wall, carefully counting her steps, her burden held awkwardly, pressed between her good arm and her body.
She set the food and water on the floor when her foot signaled she
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