by Lydia Peever
Panting, back against wide tree bark, she waited with night air drying sweat. Sticky bloody hands stayed wet much longer. Lips cracked, smiling, she realized she’d been days without water. How long till she had some to wash off the blood? A giggle pushed past her grin allowing mad glee and a laugh to begin.
The cabin door slammed. He was coming. Scrambling, running fast into the strange forest, she had to get away. Wet blood meant she hadn’t been tied up long. Her smile cracked wide, letting watery tears mix into the broken flesh and filth covering her face.
For more from Lydia Peever, author of Pray Lied Eve, go to http://typicallydia.com