On the Run p. 41

Food had never tasted so good.  It was cold, but it was filling.  And she could never get enough of him.  He didn’t treat her like a porcelain doll, ready to break.  He knew she was capable of more.  He kept her climaxing for ages, and she loved it.  She enjoyed feeling sexy, despite her scars.  He wanted her, scars or not, and that rocked.

When she finished eating, Tucker had to go and relieve Brad of his shift.  She sat there on the beach, wrapped in the blanket with his scent, the sun shining down and on a full belly.  Despite herself, she fell asleep yet again.  At least this time, she thought, no one would hear her if she screamed.

When she regained consciousness, she remembered what happened the last time.  She feigned sleep and tried to absorb the room with eyes closed.  His breathing was regular, indicating he must be passed out.  She could smell a rancid mix of vomit and booze, and the fresh smell of braided rope.  She could hear the cars on the street outside and knew she must still be in her garage.  

She cautiously opened her eyes.  The Monster was flopped down in the chair, with the nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his hands, and for the first time she noticed the gun in the other hand.  Her gun she realized with a sick kick to the gut, and her hands began to shake. 

Stay positive she reminded herself.  Maybe he had passed out.  Maybe this was her chance. 

Her hands were still bound.  Stay calm.  Think this through.  She couldn’t scream for help and risk waking the Monster.  She focused on the knots on her wrists.  Her arms had nearly zero feeling in them, but she pressed on anyways, feeling the twists and turns of the rope, trying to feel what she couldn’t see. 

It took what seemed like forever, but she was finally able to undo the binds on her wrists.  She carefully let down the ropes and worked diligently on her ankles.  Her hands were all pins and needles, but she could deal with that.  She looked around and saw his belt on the floor that made her stomach nauseous, but she pressed on. 

Her head was woozy, each movement hurt, her thinking was foggy, and the reaction in her fingers was delayed.  When she at last removed the ropes from her ankles, she tip toed across the room and took the gun carefully from his hand.  He continued to sleep, and she went to a corner in the room and found her clothes.  She put her shirt and pants back on, tucked her gun into the waistband, grabbed her keys and purse from the floor, and braved her way to her car door.  She kept her eye on him the entire time, especially as she slowly, carefully opened the car door. 

So far so good.  She gently pulled the door shut, and let out a shattered breath of relief when he hadn’t moved.  She knew the next part was going to be much trickier.  She needed to open the garage door, thankfully using the button located within her car, start her car and get out before he got to her.  Just a matter of feet between her and freedom.  She could do this, she could muster the courage to poke the bear and run. 

She took a final shaky breath, pressed the garage door opener and shoved the keys into the ignition.  She couldn’t look, she didn’t want to know if he was coming after her.  Her entire body was shaking uncontrollably as she waited for the door to ascend high enough for her to sneak her car underneath. 

Come on, come on, come on!  The garage door seemed to be going at a snail’s pace.  She looked over, and he had indeed awoken to the rush of noise around him.  He staggered towards her, nothing but sheer evil and hatred radiating from his eyes. The tears started pouring down her cheeks.  If he got to her, she would be dead.  He had her gun for a reason. 

Hurry!  She willed the door to hurry, and as he reached the car shouting obsenities, she realized in horror that she had failed to lock it.  His hand reached up to grab the handle from the outside, and hers rushed to find the button. 

Window up, window down, no!!! 

Just as he was starting pulling up on the car door handle, she managed to finally hit the lock button.  The garage door was high enough that she slammed the car in reverse and was able to back up, with him pounding on her window and to her hood and out into the street and she took off.

She did it.  She had escaped. 

Now she just had to get lost for good.  She pressed the accelerator and cruised out of town, determined to never come back. 

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