What the cat dragged in.

1 cold comfort

Kelly had been bound with her hands behind her back in the tiny, frigid lean-to for two days. At least, she thought she had. She had been able to see daylight grow and recede into darkness twice through the loose boards. The fact that she had been unconscious when she was put into the small space made her question her judgment. No matter the time frame, it had been had been enough for her body to move through all the varied territories of ache and enter into a state of painful numbness. The hunger she had been feeling so sharply at one point had faded to just another dull ache in the collection.

She'd worked at the ropes in every way she knew how, but her numb hands were ineffectual. From time to time, she forced herself to get up so that her body wouldn't go completely numb. The tiny space and the fact that her ankles were connected by another length of rough rope meant she couldn't go far, but it kept the blood flowing. Maybe it even kept frostbite from setting in.

Snow insinuated itself in through the spaces between the boards, ensuring that she was always wet as well cold. The tiny drifts probably kept her from getting completely dehydrated though. Hellish as the tiny, cold place was though, she didn't for one minute regret trying to run. If she got the chance, she would try it again.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The cabin was his sanctuary. A place to go where he could hide away from the rest of the world. Looking at him, he doubted anyone would think that someone reputed to be more beast than man would have any desire for such a place. That was an image that he'd taken care to cultivate. Letting them think he was simply beastly brawn and nothing else gave him an advantage.

Victor Creed liked to have the advantage almost as much as he enjoyed his work and the perks that went along with it. Since he went private a few years back, he'd noticed that those perks had increased significantly. He'd also been able to capture a few of the scattered threads of his humanity, some by accident, some on purpose. Not all of it. Hell, he didn't want all of it. He'd decided that having a little patch of it here and there might not be such a bad thing though.

He looked out the large window at the heavy snow that bent the tree limbs. It was only mid-October, early for that much snow. It would make tracking even easier though. He headed out into the ankle-deep snow, intent on bringing back something fresh for dinner.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Kelly was certain that she couldn't take any more. Two days ago, he'd come and gotten her out of the shed. With a wicked little smile on his face, he'd beaten her, just - he said - to remind her who was boss. It had become their morning ritual. Every time he tried to rape her but couldn't get hard, he beat her again, as if the failings of his aging body were her fault. She began to wonder if the rape would have been more tolerable than the beatings she got instead.

By the morning of the third day, she was bleeding from several different places on her head. The bruises that were developing on her body started to blend together, changing the tone of large swaths of her skin from ivory and alabaster to deep purple. When she lay on the floor, trembling with fear and pain and anger, he disappeared. For a minute, she thought he had gotten tired and quit for the moment. Kelly was certain that it was only his lack of stamina that had saved her from internal injuries thus far.

"Your Daddy said you could cook." He dropped two bloody rabbits in front of her. A shotgun pointed at her head. "Get to it."

Kelly's stomach turned. Had there been anything in it, she would have vomited. He hauled her up to her feet.

"I-I don't know how to-"

He didn't give her a chance to finish. His fist slammed into her face again. She was certain that one of these times the bones would break from the sheer repetitive abuse.