Cruel World

Chapter 11

The pain in her head, and the discombulation in her mind was worse than any hangover, Peach had ever experienced. She tried to rub her temples with her hands, only to find her wrists tightly bound together with a rough length of rope.

Her eyes started to focus enough to see that her boots were gone and her ankles were tied together. The rough cord bit into her wrists with the smallest of movement. Peach could feel panic begin to rise in her throat. Her heart started thumping, as sweat began to bead on her forehead.

She focused her racing thoughts on controlling her breath. All her life she'd trained herself to use her panic and adrenaline to benefit her. It had gotten her out of a lot of sticky situations, but maybe none as bad as this one.

Her arms were pulled painfully behind her back, and wrapped around a solid pole. She was in a bare tent with the flaps tied together tightly. She surveyed the poles pitching the tent. No, the one she was tied to was driven firmly in the ground, so it wasn't structurally important to keep the tent still standing. No, this tent was constructed solely for the purpose of keeping People, or Peach here. Her guns and other possessions had been taking somewhere else outside, leaving her with nothing but her corset and pants to her name. The basterds had even taken her hat.

Peach shifted again, trying to get her shoulder into a more comfortable position when she felt it. The constant familiar pang in her ribs.

She guess she should be thankful that whoever her captures were, they didn't strip her down completely. Leaving the small pocket knife in it's usual place. Peach had always kept it tightly to her ribs, the discomfort was so familiar to her, that she often forgot it was there.

Peach shifted again, every movement causing the tendons in her shoulder to scream in pain, and the ropes to burn deeper and deeper into her skin. She rotated her wrists as far around as she could, in an effort to undo the bow tying the back of corset together. She bit her lip, stifling the pain as the ropes stung her wrists. She could feel blood starting to seep into the ropes.

The string of her corset stayed just out of reach, no matter how hard she bent her wrists or arced her back. The pain she was in was blinding, not to mention the bump on the back of her head was starting to cloud her judgement.

She took a deep breath, her chest heaving against her to tight corset. The knife's handle digging deeper in between her ribs. Her escape, her freedom, so close, and yet she couldn't reach it.

She was going to be killed for spying no doubt about it. She cursed herself, she hadn't even made Belle her tell her why they needed these bootleggers so bad. She'd just blindly and loyally followed Belle's orders and now she was going to be killed for it. She couldn't even really blame Belle. It was her own fault for being so stupid.

A pang bit into her chest as a thought crossed her mind. Poor, Icarus, the stallion was more loyal than any dog. If she was killed here, her boy would probably never leave the spot she left him. She hung her head, panting for a good breath. Her braids hung low over her face. Her braids, her only reminders of the very few people in this world she cared about. She thought about Adalida. Her dear friend who might not ave any love left for her. For poor Evangeline, that no one took seriously except for her. Even Belle, who would no doubt fall completely off the deep end in the even of Peach's death.

Peach's thoughts of despair were rudely interrupted with the flaps of the tent being drawn open. She kept her head hung low, as the blinding light of the afternoon sun burned into the tent. She could hear someone's footsteps, and see a pair of black boots stop at her feet. As the tent flaps closed, bathing them in a dim orange light again, Peach finally pulled her head up. She followed the boots up dark jeans and a tattered green flannel to stare into burning blue eyes.