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SHE WOKE WITH A START. Something woke her up, but what? She looked around to see what it was, but her surroundings were unfamiliar. Where was she?
The moonlight filtering into the room cast eerie shadows along the walls and floor. It was too dark to make out where she was. She tried to sit up and terror exploded inside of her. Her arms and legs were restrained to a bed frame.
She yanked as hard as she could to free herself from the restraints, but the rope was too tight. The duct tape was pulled tightly against her mouth, causing her to itch. As she moved her head back and forth to see if she was alone, an eerie silence surrounded her. Her captor could be hiding in the shadows preparing to strike at any moment. This had to be a horrible nightmare. Any moment now, she would wake up and find herself back home, in her own bed.
Random, horrifying thoughts ran through her mind of all the things that could happen to her. The police had warned women to be aware of their surroundings, do not go out alone at night. But she did not take any heed to the warnings. She figured the missing girls decided to start a new life somewhere away from here. Besides, nothing bad ever happened here, right? She never thought anything bad would happen to her, she was cautious and knew self-defense. How could she have been so wrong?
Tears built in her eyes as she took in her dire situation. She did not want to die this way. She would not shed a tear; she would figure a way out of this. She took a deep breath and concentrated on freeing her hands from their bonds. She paused for a moment, was that a floorboard creaking? She listened intently to see if there was someone there. Not hearing any more noises, she went back to work on freeing herself.
This may be her only chance to escape and instinct kicked in. She slowly tried to work her wrist free from the ropes, hoping that it may be better to work on one wrist at a time. The rope brutally cut into her wrist as she tried to maneuver her hand through the small opening. If she could squeeze them free. She felt the rope give some, and hope bloomed inside of her. She continued maneuvering her wrist in small semicircles.
She ignored the pain as the rope burned into her raw and bleeding skin. The blood helped ease her hands out of the tight bindings. She refused to give up and gritted her teeth against the excruciating pain. Her hand slipped free.
Being quiet as to not alert her captor, she slowly stretched her arm to begin working on the rope binding her other arm. It took some stretching and maneuvering, but she finally had both arms free.
Before moving to free her feet, she listened intently to make sure all was still quiet. Freeing her feet was faster with both hands free. A chance of surviving this experience helped speed the process.
She slowly dropped her feet to the ground, trying to regain the feeling back in her legs. She must have been out for longer than originally suspected. As she became accustomed to the darkness that enveloped her, she assessed her situation. Her captor could be right outside the door so that means of escape was out. The window was a fairly good size; it may be her best means of escaping undetected - if it would open. Before making her move, she scanned the room to ensure that no one was hiding in the shadows.
Moving quickly, she tried the window. It took a bit of effort, but it eventually opened enough to allow her to escape. A light breeze whispered against her skin as the smell of damp earth and pine trees filled her nostrils. She squinted through the darkness, trying to make out any defining shapes. It was oppressively dark. If only the moonlight could filter through the thick canopy of trees.
The pine straw and underbrush scraped against her bare feet. She looked around, unsure of which way she should run. She heard a noise behind her; someone was opening the door to the cabin. She had to hurry, her captor would soon discover she escaped and come after her.
The incessant buzzing of insects surrounded her. Not knowing which way she would find help, she began running, uncaring as to her state of dress. She prayed that help was close by. She heard movement behind her and picked up her pace. She broke free of the dense woods and found herself at the edge of a sugar cane field. Her spirits picked up. Someone must live close by, but where? She began running in between two sugarcane rows unsure of what would be at the end. The sharp leaves cut into her tender flesh. She pushed on, ignoring the pain.
Run! The voice was almost audible. Keep going. Do not stop!
Do not let him catch me. She could do this. She had to do this. She attempted to protect her face by shielding her face with her hands as she ran through the sharp leaves that whipped and scratched her skin - hopefully farther and farther from the madman.
She stopped briefly for a moment, her hands on her knees, and struggled to catch her breath. She could hear her captor behind her. He was coming after her. If he caught her, she was dead.
Would she find help? Or would she die in this field? Then it fell quiet. Eerily quiet except for the sound of her panting and the buzzing of insects. Her captor had stopped shouting. She listened for the swishing sound of someone moving through the stalks and heard nothing. Where was he?
She stood in a jungle of sugar cane stalks that were considerably taller than she, swatting at the mosquitoes that were feeding off of her. She was soaked with perspiration, including her hair. Her exposed skin had been whipped and slashed by the sharp sugar cane plants.
The stifling heat and heavy air made it hard to breathe. She took a few more steps, pushing aside the unforgiving leaves of the sugar cane plants. She heard a swishing sound behind her and froze, listening intently. There it was again. He was close. Her heart hammered inside of her chest.
She tried not to lose her sense of direction in the dark. The wind had picked up.
She felt a tickle on her wrist and locked gazes with a hairy spider the size of a quarter. Instinctively she shook her arm. She had to find help. It was her only chance of survival.
She pushed forward, her arms folded in front of her face, shielding her as much as possible from the sharp leaves. She would either make it, or die trying.
How deep was she into this field? How much further to the other side? What if she couldn't find her way out? What if she was trapped in here?
Trapped? She took a shallow breath. And then another. And another. Why did it feel as if her throat was closing? Why couldn't she breathe? Her pulse raced. She could not afford a panic attack. Not here. Not now!
You can do this. You have to do this. Do not give up. Think about where you are going - not where you are.
She kept moving, her hands in front of her, attempting to keep the leaves from cutting into her face. She tried not to think about the mosquitoes feasting on her. But, then again, mosquito bites were more pleasant than what could be happening to her. What would the man have done to her? What would he have forced her to endure?
She picked up her pace and emptied her mind of how miserable she was, attempting to stay focused on escape.
She could feel the blood dripping from her arms and legs. Had she been able to protect her face? How much further could it be until she came out on the other side? A noise caught her attention. What was that? She crouched down and listened intently. Had she imagined it? Was it her kidnapper or possibly a wild animal? There it was again - a mumbled curse. Had it come from behind her, or ahead of her - to the right or to the left? Was it her captor?
She could not move. Or breathe. She heard another sound. It was getting louder. Finally, she recognized the sound - it was someone moving through the cane stalks. He was close. She had to hurry.
She began running again. All of a sudden, her foot caught in a tangle of vines. She toppled forward, her elbows landing hard on the ground. A silent scream caught in her throat as pain shot through her.
She lay on the ground in agony, surrounded by weeds and towering cane stalks. Fear consumed her. She took a slow, deep breath and exhaled. She tried to imagine herself in a wide open field.
She forced herself to get up and pushed forward. How much time had she lost when she fell - one minute, two? Where was her captor? Was he staying out of sight, waiting for the right time to strike?
It felt as if she had been running for miles. Where was the road? Had the field angled in a different direction without her realizing? Or did the road not come this far? Was there even a road?
She could hear someone catching up to her. She kept running through the rows of sugar cane, hoping to lose him in the process. She tried to keep her frenzied thoughts at bay. She had no idea how long she had been running. She prayed she had lost him.
Relief washed over her when she saw a light near the end. That may be her only chance of survival. She hoped someone there could help her. Ignoring the leaves of the sugar cane, she pushed on.
Then she was free from those sugarcane stalks.
Run! The voice resounded in her head. Was it just her fear talking?
Go!
She hesitated for only a second, then sprang out into the open, running with abandon toward the house. The searing pain in her body ignored, but determination given her legs the energy to move forward.
She pushed herself harder than she thought possible. What if she was running to his house?
She did not stop and rushed toward the house. She tried to catch her breath. Her body shook, her feet throbbed. As she neared the house, she listened. She struggled to hear if her abductor was close by. Hopefully, this house did not belong to him. She slowly eased her head from her hiding spot, peering into the night and feared her abductor would be in front of her.
She did not see anyone nearby so she made her move. A sliver of light from the porch light helped outline her way. She made sure to stay out of the light, hoping to blend into the darkness. She dashed across the backyard.
HE STILL COULD NOT believe she had escaped. The ropes had been tight; the bindings had no slack in them.
This one had spirit. At first, the chase gave him a new exhilaration, but he quickly grew tired of the new-found game. He hoped she had not found the house yet. He had been closely watching, making sure the new owner did not discover his current playhouse and disposal ground. If she did, then he would have to take drastic measures.
He slowly made his way through the sugar cane field, listening and looking intently for his escaped captive.
For the first time, he truly began to feel fear. His prey made her way up on the porch screaming and banging on the door. Lights began to turn on all over the plantation. He knew he should have pushed harder for Bridgette to sell him the place. There were too many guests tonight for him to make a move.
He moved back to the cabin quickly. He must act fast before the police arrived. He had not been careful there and his fingerprints were all over the place. At least the woman never saw his face.
Just holding the lit match caused him to tremble in anticipation. Knowing that he was once again back in control rushed adrenaline through his veins.
He watched in fascination as the place went up in flames. He had found some old moonshine in a corner that would be the perfect accelerant. As he made his way quickly back to the bayou, he could hear the sizzle of the fire. White smoke began to fill the air as the smell of sulfur tickled his nose. For some reason, the smell energized him. The fire roared to life and devoured any evidence in its rampage.
He doubted the police would ever put the clues together. The missing women, the one who escaped, and the burning cabin were all connected. He had abducted women for years without getting caught. He had honed his skills and expanded his talents all right under their noses. Unfortunately, now he had to find a new playground, which would take time.
That was unless he convinced Bridgette to sell. Perhaps since this happened she would want out of here fast.
As he pushed the bateau in the bayou, flames shot up from the cabin. He heard the sirens in the distance. He must move quickly. The night air was filled with the sounds of crackling, popping and sizzling as his playground burnt to the ground.