She crouched down and curled under the bench praying he wouldn't see her. Her heart was pounding as if trying to make its way out of her chest. He walked by her slowly. She held my breath, but it didn't matter any way. He had already caught a glimpse of her, a grin spreading across his rugged face. It was then she realized she couldn't escape. She squeezed Her eyes shut. She was helpless like a bird with a broken wing.

She woke in a small, dimly lit room with the paint peeling off the walls. Her head pounded as she tried to collect her thoughts. She remembered bits and pieces of the attack. Being found, his breath on her neck as he tied the ropes, her struggles, but she didn't remember how she had got to this room. She looked around the room more and glanced into a cracked mirror on the far wall. Her clothes were battered and bloody, there was a gash on her forehead, and hand print shaped bruises all over her upper arms. She was still staring at her broken reflection when he stepped into the room. His nose was bandaged and his left eye was swollen and bruised. She cringed as he approached, his heavy boots making a loud thud on the cold concrete floor.