Heart of Ice

  Her mouth was bound, too.

  Again she followed the light. She could see better now, both eyes in play.

  The boat’s engine’s roared.

  If only she could scream. At no time in her life did she ever think she would die like this. Die, yes, die. No rape. No way out. Lying on the floor in the pool of light was the proof that she’d not been the first young woman in that space.

  There were three of them in that small space on the wet steel floor, and they weren’t fish scales, after all. Again, she wished that she could scream. Tears rolled down her sticky cheeks. She needed to pull herself up and get out of there.

  Fingernails, in a color different than her own. The entire nail. Not fake press-ons, but real nails, bloodied at the quick. Torn from fingers.

  Fingers like her own.

  The door swung open and a blast of light came at her all at once. A shadowy figure moved toward the cot where she’d pinned herself against the wall, screw tips clawing at her back. She pushed away from him as he moved forward. But there was nowhere to go.

  “Please, God,” Amy said to herself. “Please don’t let him kill me.”

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: 5804004d-52cb-45c7-8b5b-8cd5f072073d

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 11.9.2012

  Created using: calibre 0.8.67, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software

  Document authors :

  Gregg Olsen

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