42.

Her stomach retched, her throat felt dry.

'How did I get myself into this mess?'

A distant thud echoed across the cold, hard floor, ricocheting into her ear.

Someone was coming.

With a slow dawn she remembered.

'Had I slipped or had he hit me with something?' Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as she relived the figure advancing towards her.

It was dark. The street light that shone from behind the man in the faceless grey hoody ensured anonymity and animosity. Now, he was coming.

'How long have I been here?'

Her head ached as she struggled to assess her surroundings.

Stamp. Stomp. Scuff.

She remembered what had happened, and as she did, fear gripped her tightly by throat.

When he had found her trying to escape earlier in the afternoon she had refused to go down without a fight. She jumped either way.

If she was going to die, she would rather die trying to surviving, instead of offering herself willingly like a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter house.

The jump sprained