Page 1 of Captive Heart

1

The bitter wind enshrouded her with a bone deep cold while tiny shards of icy hail bit cruelly into her bruised body. Her fingers and toes had long since turned numb, and she wondered if the stinging pelt of the mostly frozen sleet against her bare skin was actually improving her sluggish circulation.

One thing was certain. If she didn't find a way to shelter and find a little warmth, she wouldn't need to worry whether or not the next beating might kill her, because the biting cold surely would.

It went against everything that had been ingrained within her to defy her Master, but even after all this time, after the loss of all hope, the will to live still beat strong within her heart.

He hadn't chained her this time. The weather was so foul that he hadn't wished to leave the comfort of the house in order to do so. Instead, he had ordered her outside, stark naked, and commanded that she sit on the bench at the end of the garden where he could see her from the window.

He’d watched for a while as her buttocks had numbed and ached with the pain from the cold and her last whipping.

Her breath sent white plumes into the frigid air and her teeth had gone way past the chattering stage. But she hadn't seen him peer out at her for long minutes now. Was he watching from another window? Waiting to pounce, the moment she defied him.

Dear lord, did she even care anymore? Whether he killed her, or the cold did, at least she would finally be free from the torment.

Except that fragile filament of enduring, abiding survival instinct refused to let her out of its grasp.

She wiggled her toes, then beat the soles of her feet against the frozen ground, simultaneously jamming her arms around her torso and her fingers into her armpits.

Trying to keep warm was mostly an exercise in futility, and she knew beyond a doubt that if she left it very much longer, then the chance to function would be stripped from her by the effects of the slithering, devouring cold as surely as her clothing had been stripped from her by the beast she was forced to call Master.

She looked toward the house once more and tried to think past the cold that seemed to be seeping into her very soul, to catalogue what she knew about her shadowy surroundings. She wasn't allowed out very often, so it wasn't much, but if she was even going to entertain the thought of getting away, of staying alive, then she needed a plan.

Cold—such an ineffectual word for the depth of frozen chill she was feeling as it iced her veins. She was beyond cold and wondered if the freeze was beginning to affect her thought processes.

No, she was lucid enough to know that she needed to do something…soon. If she wanted a chance at life.

Rocking backward and forward, she tried to clear her mind of the present discomfort and concentrate on what she needed to do, on an effective escape plan.

Master might kill her if he caught her, and she had no doubt that he'd take great pleasure in making sure it was the most painful torment imaginable before she got to that final relief of demise.

Anything had to be better than that.

There was a shed to the right of the bench where she huddled. Did she dare to try to investigate inside? There was no lock that she could see, but the latch was high. Higher than she would easily be able to reach.

No, it would be too dangerous, take too long, and was too much in sight of the house. One glance, and Master would know what she was doing.

There was a log pile in a shadowed corner, also close to the house, but out of the line of sight of any windows. Atop the logs was a tarpaulin that might offer her a meagre bit of shelter and a modicum of decency for her naked body.

There were neighbours on either side of the property. Not close. Master would never chance anyone hearing her screams of agony, but she didn't think she could trust going to any place in the immediate vicinity. She didn't know who his cronies were, but she wouldn't be surprised if they lived nearby.

Surrounding the property were high wooden fences without any gaps all the way around the boundary line. She would never be able to scale one of those, but at the very back of the grounds, close to the log pile, was a dense, thorny hedge which backed onto farmland and open fields. The vast open space would bestow its own dangers, since there would be nowhere to hide. On the other hand, there was no street lighting, either. And so, once she cleared the illumination of the house, she would barely be able to see where she was heading, and she had no idea what was out there.

It couldn't be any worse than what she endured here, though; that was for certain.

Scrutinising the hedge, she looked for a place where she might be able to wiggle through. If she pulled the tarp around her, it might shield her from some of the wicked looking thorns at least, but, if nothing else, she knew she would have no trouble enduring a little pain. Not if it meant exchanging it for freedom from the certain death that loomed ahead of her, beckoning her into its gaping black maw.

She shook her head with renewed urgency. The cold was starting to get to her; she needed to make her move.

Right behind the wood pile was an area that appeared thinner than the rest of the hedge, as if the logs had impeded the growth of the bushes. That was her best possibility for escape, although it meant having to scale the log pile in her bare feet. Looking around, she noted that the hard slabs of the patio area were wet rather than snowy, the sleety hail still too damp to stick, so at least she wouldn't leave footprints. That might buy her some time if he came looking.

Rubbing and stamping and jiggling in a vain effort to nurture her beleaguered circulation, she psyched herself up to make a move. Then, suddenly, all the lights went out and the garden was plunged into an inky darkness.

For a moment, she was frozen by shock rather than cold, until her sluggish mind realised that Master had turned off the outside lights, no doubt in an attempt to deepen her punishment.

In fact, what he had handed her was the perfect opportunity. She had her escape plan. It might not be much of one, but it was at least a tiny germ of purpose and hope, and now she had the cover of darkness to shield her actions further.

Waiting scant seconds to allow her eyes to grow accustomed to the night, she moved as swiftly as she could in the direction she needed to go.

---