11. The Escape
He had been planning it for about two weeks now. Not that it was a complicated plan or something but the bastard was cunning. He could not risk getting caught for he knew his fate and it would be nothing short of death. Actually, a death wouldn’t be so bad but he was needed and he was more useful broken than deceased.
The night was perfect. The “artist" had spent the afternoon fighting with his creation (it was one of her rare moments of clarity when she could actually stand up to him) and now as their screams of mutual pleasure indicated, they were making up leaving the girl unguarded. Technically, of course, she was supposed to be guarded by him but if he was successful that was about to change.
He saw her sitting quietly in the dining room. She was not even touching her food, only occasionally lifted the glass of water at her lips and drank with small sips. Since she was brought here, she had lost some weight. Not too much to become alarming but he could still see it and yet she insisted playing around with her damn food.
He cursed under his breath and she flinched at the sound. However, she did not dare to look at his direction. Not that she would be able to see much; her left eye started opening just yesterday and there was not that much light in the room anyway.
Deciding it was better not to waste any more time since it was already late at night, he walked towards her quickly. She grew nervous instantly. He could feel it.
Damn his soul and to think he was not even the one who had beaten her face almost beyond recognition! Yet, she trembled like a leaf whenever he was close to her. Stupid, stupid girl. She put her trust in the wrong person and she was paying heavily.
When he reached her, she bent her head down and her delicate fingers started fidgeting with the hem of her short skirt. Lacing his own fingers in her long honey coloured hair, he pulled her head up, tilting it towards him to take a better glance on the injuries.
It looked pretty bad still, but there would be no marks or permanent damage after the healing which would take some time. He tugged at her locks more firmly but was careful not to cause any more pain than she had already endured.
“Up, girl" he ordered harshly and she did, not without a certain difficulty as it was to be expected.
When she stood as upright as she could, he let go of her hair and turning on his heels, he marched forward with her limping behind him. As he stopped, after several minutes, in front of the door that would lead her to freedom, he found her looking at him frozen.
He decided to make his intentions even clearer by opening the door widely.
“Leave, girl" he urged.
But she just stood there.