Justifiable Homicide

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When she was alone, Selena's eyes looked everywhere for a way out. There were no windows. There were inadequate lightbulbs in the ceiling providing sometimes flickering, pale illumination, but even in her distressed mental state she could see the obvious: the cage was locked with a steel bolt.

She wouldn't ever be able to escape, even if she got out of the restraints. She started to feel sorry for herself. And what was wrong with that? She didn't want to die. She didn't want this thick man to rape her. To slit her throat and dump her.

She started to cry again, this time in big sobs that took great lungfuls of air to produce. She did it because she could. Then she shouted at the top of her lungs, saying one word that echoed in the warehouse:


When her voice got hoarse she stopped shouting. She got quiet. Even her sobs diminished into uneven breaths and wet rings around her eyes.

She waited so long enough that her stomach started to grumble. She felt thirst.

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