She hated herself for going to the party. Hated herself for having to go to the bathroom. Mostly, she hated herself for not knowing how to react. The guy had grabbed her from behind, twisting her arms and knocking the air from her lungs with his fists. She would be taking a course in self-defence. If she ever found her way back.
She stared angrily at the dead trees behind her window. She couldn’t even climb down the high concrete walls. Her arms were tied behind her back. Even though her feet were free, she couldn’t possibly climb without her arms. It was useless. And she couldn’t scream. The scarf around her mouth prevented her from uttering even a single word.
Friday Fictioneers, 8 April 2016
Photo prompt provided by J Hardy Carroll