The Psychopath's Prisoner

Chapter 35

Cheyenne wondered how she was going to escape while he lay next to her. There was no possible way she would be able to live like this. Not with him. Not after what he did. He murdered Gabrielle and Michael. How could he be so disturbed to think that things would be okay after what he'd done? His touch, his voice, his smile, everything about him made her nauseous. When the opportunity arose she would escape, but she had to be patient and figure out how.

When he rolled over and pulled her closer, Cheyenne tensed up. As luck would have it he had the gun in his hand. She slowly and nervously moved her arm toward the gun, but quickly pulled back when he suddenly jerked. He laid his arm down across her. Once again, she reached for the gun, but before she could, he whispered in her ear.

"Don't even try it."

"Try what?"

"You know what."

Cheyenne stared at the gun for a moment, debating whether or not to make a move. Deciding it was too risky, she lay there hoping he would go back to sleep and stop watching her. How was she going to get out of this predicament?

Cheyenne sat up. "You are so paranoid. I wasn't doing anything but lying here. Why would you think I was trying something?

Huh?"

He grabbed a handful of her hair, yanked her back down onto the sleeping bag and angrily whispered in her ear, "Watch that pretty mouth of yours. If you don't, I might lose control and, believe me." He took a deep breath. "You don't want that." Each word slowly enunciated.

When he let go of her hair, Cheyenne struggled to remain placid as she swallowed her tears back. Despite her struggle, she failed to maintain control and flopped on her side with her back to him and cried into her pillow. When was this nightmare going to end?

~

Something hit her stomach, which made her grab her belly and cry out in pain. She glanced up. The man glared at her. A booted foot came at her again. The look in his eyes was so evil it sent a shiver down her spine. He kicked her again, causing her to scream. She breathed hard, still holding her stomach. Seeing his boot coming at her once more, she rolled over, which was excruciatingly painful. She crawled across the floor and prayed that he would stop. She cried and screamed in pain as his boot came in contact with her back. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He kicked her again. This time she put herself in a fetal position. What else could she do?

"Stop! Please! Why are you doing this?" He quit kicking her, which made her nervous. There was no telling what was coming next. Suddenly something was around her throat, choking her. She grabbed the rope and tried pulling it off, but he was much stronger. So she kicked him where it counted, knocking him down. Somehow, she mustered up the strength to get up and run. She ran to the only door and tried to open it but there was a lock in place. Only one person had the key and it wasn't her. She looked over and saw him getting up. He stood and glared at her. He charged, giving the loudest, scariest cry she had ever heard.

Cheyenne was shaking so badly she couldn't move. The next thing she knew, he was tackling her. They went down. She hit her head and struggled to get free of him despite the blood running down the side of her face.

"Didn't I tell you not to try anything? Didn't I?" He yelled at her as he continued to beat her.

Cheyenne screamed and begged him to stop, but he wouldn't let up. She had never felt more alone and was scared and helpless not being able to defend herself. Suddenly he quit beating her, stood up and stared down at her through squinted eyes. He leaned over her, gently lifted her in his arms and walked over to the sleeping bag. He laid her down and caressed her hair. Through the one eye that wasn't swollen completely shut, she observed him unbutton his pants.