Rising Back To The Cage

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she hooked her foot onto the edge of the window frame, the other foot scrambling to find a balance point. Her arms screamed with strain as she twisted, her chest pressing into the rough stone wall.

The gown creaked—another small tear echoing through the silence—

But she didn't stop.

Her trembling fingers clawed at the sides of the broken window, gripping the cold stone, and with each backward crawl—each agonizing inch—she pushed herself upward.

Her body bent at an awkward angle, the blood still rushing to her head, but she refused to let the panic swallow her whole.

"Just a little more," she muttered under her breath, the words a fragile prayer.

The wind whistled against her ears.

The silence of the room loomed behind her like a yawning mouth, and her captor—wherever he was—had not returned.

For a fleeting moment, she thought—

I would pay anything for him to find me right now.