Love's Arithmetic

XI: Emancipation

A frigid, hard, finger of despair and utter fear ran down her spine leaving her with no hope of escape. This man was bigger, stronger, and uninhibited by the unforgiving steel wrapped impersonally around her ankle. Caer struggled, fighting for her life, virtue, and sanity. She had no doubts as to this man's intentions.

He planned to rape her.

As this horrible thought finally solidified itself in her mind, Caer felt the same restricting steel being placed around her wrist, fed through the bar in the cot, effectively immobilizing her. It took several moments for it to register in her brain that her mouth was no longer covered. At this revelation she drew a deep breath a screamed with all her might. She hoped someone would hear it, and would come to her rescue, but would they? Before she was fully able complete the scream something solid came in contact with her face, knocking her head to the side and drawing a grunt of pain. She felt blood in her mouth accompanied by the unpleasantly familiar sound of ripping duct tape.

Caer was disgusted by the taste of her own blood in her mouth, but before she was able to dispel it, a thick strip of duct tape was plastered over her mouth, trapping it. Another hard blow to her face made her see stars as the man lifted his weight off her. As he moved he pulled her shirt with him, tearing it away from her body, leaving her upper body covered only by her modest white bra.

She whimpered as he ripped off another piece of tape, covering her already disabled eyes and her world was plunged into complete darkness. She was now even more terrified then before, if that were at all possible. She felt her jeans being torn away, by what, she didn't know, perhaps a knife? A knife would explain the sharp Knicks down her legs. Caer gained enough of her wits to try and move her legs. The left, the one held by the shackle had somehow been shortened, stopped. She couldn't move it very far. The right, was free, using that knowledge she moved her leg in the direction she hoped her attracter was in. Instead of coming into contact with a person, a searing pain ran down her thigh as he cut her leg with the knife.

Screaming though the gag, the feeling of drowning as her blood filled her mouth, gagging as she swallowed it. The pain in her leg bringing tears to her eyes, flooding beneath the tape that covered them. Another pair of, what Caer assumed were, handcuffs were attached to her right ankle, leaving her spread out half naked, clad only in her underwear and bra, bloody and bruised, and terrified beyond belief.

She could feel him standing there, watching her, gloating over his work. She shivered as a cold breeze blew over her. She only hoped he killed her after he raped her, she didn't want to deal with the pain afterwards. She didn't want to keep feeling this dirty, this disgusting.

Without warning a painful blow to her solar plexus had her gagging and bucking on the small creaky cot. Several more blows to her rib cage, stomach, legs, and chest left her breathless. Caer felt a whoosh of air near her face and felt the blow against her cheek. She only vaguely felt as the knife sliced its way down her stomach before she flew away into oblivion.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Little elves must be tinkering away in my brain, Caer thought as she woke to a horrible headache and a body so sore she couldn't move. She felt as though she had been hit by a train and dragged under it for several miles. It wasn't for several more minutes before she finally remembered the events that had occurred. She had no idea what time it was, how long the attack had continued for, and if the man had even raped her, but she knew now, that she was in no immediate danger.

From the feel of the bed, she also knew she was no longer resting on the small cot, in the cold room, instead she was in a water bed? Shifting slightly she heard the faint slosh of water. A heavy comforter bore down on her, keeping her toasty warm, her hair felt damp, and smelled of some fruity shampoo. Her face no longer felt grimy and oily, although it did feel swollen and puffy. Reaching her arm up to her face she felt the bruises, the split lip, and the small cut on her chin she wondered with a sense of detached curiosity what had happened after she had been knocked out.

She dreaded pulling up the covers to look at the damage done, but she knew she had to do it. She closed her eyes and pulled the comforter up and opened them relieved to see that someone had put an oversized t-shirt on her. She was beyond caring who it was, she only wanted to know if she had been violated. After a quick check and an inspection of the bruises, various small cuts on her stomach and the large white bandage covering her upper thigh, she came to the blessed conclusion, that she had not been raped.

But who had saved her?

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Garrett was still coldly furious as he walked to the room where Sylvia rested. He had been bringing her lunch to her room and upon arrival had been shocked to find Toby Card standing over the woman, a knife in his hand and blood covering the poor woman.

At first he had thought Sylvia was dead, but when he saw her chest rising and falling he was able to calm down, a little. Toby had paid for his crimes, and he wouldn't be continuing with them. He had had no clue in all the years he had worked with Toby that he could be so cold, so vicious, and so bloodthirsty. He, along with the others on the team were shocked at what Toby had done. They were all criminals, but none were violent. It had been a mutual decision to move Sylvia out of the small room, into one that was much more comfortable. The cut on her leg had required stitches and David Maybe had stitched her up.

He opened the door to the room and was surprised to find her awake, looking at him from eyes dark as a raccoons. He felt another wave of anger as he saw her battered face and her fear. All he wanted was to dispel it. To get rid of the horrible image she had presented when he had pulled off the tape. Her mouth had been stained with blood from the cut in her mouth, and she looked as though she had been attacked by a wild animal. He knew as long as he lived, he would always remember what she looked like when he found her.