Chapter 1

The Morning Of

Naked, except for a tattered woolen blanket, she shivered. Dying ash encrusted embers were all that remained of the fire. Her heavy lids fought to stay open as the haze of what she assumed was sleep slowly lessened. Realization slapped at a foggy mind as Eve forced herself to look around. This was not her house--not her fireplace.

"I must be dreaming," Eve murmured as she rubbed her eyes and fought to sit up.

Her legs tingled with thousands of invisible pins and needles. Her body ached with cold stiffness. Her mind reeled. How had she come to be lying in such a curious position, on a hard packed dirt floor? In a house--a house she didn't even recognize.

Eve's vision adjusted, and she noticed a small stack of kindling by the hearth. She reached with trembling hands and managed after long moments to stir the dying embers, gingerly coaxing them into tenuous flames. She fed the coals slowly. The smell of wood burning mingled with a twinge of something sweet that nagged at the fringes of Eve's awareness. The syrupy taste that lingered in her mouth was indistinguishable, but quickly she let it go. There were more important things to consider. The fire flickered. A warning flashed in her mind. Too late to reconsider her hasty action in building a fire. She wondered how long it might be until someone came to investigate. Questions closed in on her. Where was she? How did she get here? Her wrists ached all the way to the bone. She held her hands closer to the pathetic excuse for a fire and stared in disbelief at the reddened torn skin, mingled shades of blue and green that encircled both wrists.

This looks like. … No it can't be. … Rope burns? Was I restrained? Or worse? What's going on?

Normally manicured fingernails were split and cracked, and encrusted with filth. The palms of her hands were callused and rough. Her knees were bruised and scraped. She ran her hands down her shins, dried blood flaked away as she rubbed the feeling back into her legs and feet--feet that did not look like her own. Her always smoothly shaven legs were covered with fine blondish hairs that could only have been from months of growth. It didn't seem to her that she'd been sexually assaulted, but she was naked.