Claire was losing more and more blood with each move she made. The blonde haired lady had never returned. She couldn't stay here any longer. She frantically glanced around the room looking for something that would free her hands and feet from their bondage. She looked to the floor. Bingo! The blonde had mistakenly left the kitchen knife behind on the ground.

   Claire quickly thought of a plan... although it was going to make her hurt a whole lot worse!

   She rocked her chair from side to side before it finally fell to its left- right beside the knife. Claire winced from the pain that shot through her entire body. She bit her tongue trying not to shout and alert the woman upstairs.

   Claire reached for the knife. It hurt her hand to twist and bend it in ways it was not meant to be. At times, it felt like she might actually have broken it. But being able to move her fingers told her otherwise- although one of her fingers ached badly for some reason.

   She reached for the knife and snatched it up. She sighed heavily in relief as sweat mixed with blood poured down her face. She maneuvered the blade in between her fingers to get it to cut the right way. Once it was good and tight in her grasp, she cut away.

   Little by little, the rope began to snap. She'd be out of this pit soon enough!

   Just then, the door to downstairs opened back up. The blondes voice came rushing up to her ears. "Don't worry," she said. "It was just the police. They were wanting me to file in a missing child's report." Claire heard a sign. "Of course, I had to fake a few tears- which I am not very good at. After all, my daughter has been presumed dead."

   Claire continued to cut. She cut, and she cut, and she cut until she heard a heavy boot on the first step.

   "You're being awfully quiet up there, Claire." She could just imagine the blonde crossing her arms. "Don't tell me you're unconscious and now I'm going to have to repeat myself all over again."

   Once the last thread of rope was cut, Claire hopped to her feet. At the same time, the blonde came stumbling up the stairs, gun in hand and pointed at Claire.

   "Stay where you are!" the blonde shouted.

   Claire didn't obey. She ran towards the window and threw herself into the glass, unknown of how high she was from the ground or where it would drop her. The sound of a gun firing rang in her ears as the glass shattered around her.

   The next thing Claire knew, she was lying on the grassy ground, pain shooting into every inch of her body. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry for help and cry from the pain... but she wouldn't.

   Claire opened her eyes to see that she had fallen from the attic of a two story house. She was praying nothing would be broken as she tried to stand. Thankfully, her legs were okay. She climbed to her feet and stumbled to get her bearings.

   Her pointer finger on her right hand was aching worse than it had been before. She turned her head downwards to notice its dark purple color and how swollen it was around the middle joint. At some point, her finger had been broken. But it was already hurting before her fall through the glass.

   Claire glanced around. Houses, houses and more houses. The only way of escape was towards the woods at the back of the house.

   Something inside her told her not to run towards another house, but to get as far away from them as possible. And that was what she was going to do.

   With her hand clenched tightly around her wound, she jumped a waist high, metal fence and took off towards the woods.