Captive

Sam’s heart skipped. Swiftly she averted her gaze from the unsecured chain, fearful of drawing his attention to it. For the first time since her abduction, Sam felt hope.

He kicked her again, being too drunk for anything else this time. Sam remained defiant, refusing to scream or cry. Permitting only the anger she felt at allowing herself to be taken shine in her brown eyes.

“You’ll break, like all the others,” he slurred, stumbling to his bed.

Pushing her pain aside, Sam waited for his breathing to become regular; for that first snore of deep sleep to erupt in the single roomed cottage. She waited a little longer then pulled the padlock free.

She'd made the most of her time in captivity, noting not only her best way out, but also the placement of the only two weapons she had seen; a knife and an old grenade.

It was slow going but stealth, Sam knew, was far more important than haste. Happy to be armed again, she opened the door just enough to squeeze through.

She hesitated a moment, getting her bearings. It was a moment too long. She felt the arms wrap round her, this time he lacked chloroform to subdue her. Sam jabbed her elbow backward, pulled free and sliced into his abdomen. She allowed all the rage, every sick thing, he'd done to her return and, pulling the pin, thrust the grenade inside him. With a strength born of both fear and anger she kicked out, sending him sprawling.

Seeing the steady stream of headlights ahead, she ran toward them, toward freedom. She paid little heed to the muffled explosion behind her. She had risked her life many times in the army, but this was the first time she had ever known fear.

(word count: 299)