If you visited last week, you know Miss Abby tried escaping, only to fall off the couch and break her shoulder . . . but, Boredas, the nicer of the two kidnappers--if you call kidnappers nice--performed a painful inspection and discovered her shoulder was "merely" dislocated. OUCH, right?
He's told her a few things that make her totally think he's a cuckoo, and then, well, this happens:
Psycho number one startled and glanced toward the back of the cabin. "I'll be just a minute. Don't try to get away again."
Oh no. The other crazies must have arrived.
There was no escape. Even if my hands were free, I couldn't run with a dislocated shoulder.
I closed my eyes and waited. Time ticked by. I listened for sounds, for a car pulling into the rocky driveway, for the rustle of wind in the trees, for the mice in the walls, for anything to take my mind off the pain, off the fear. Every shake hurt more, my shoulder throbbing harder and harder, my pulse pounding in my ears. Every second brought me that much closer to the end.
Sniffling, a new scent greeted my nose. Not the smell of rotting flesh, but a smell of burning wood. Maybe the nicer of the two murderers realized he should keep me warm. Maybe kindness truly existed in him after all.
Opening my eyes, I looked at the fireplace, but no orange light or sparks there. The smoke formed dark gray clouds overhead, blanketing the ceiling. Bad turned worse.
"Help. The house is on fire. Please, get me out of here."
So, this isn't good. Not at all. Stay tuned to see what happens next!