While trying not to think about the things he’d done to her, she spent the last of her depleted energy desperately picking up her pace. Uncaring branches snapped at her bare legs, and sharp twigs crunched painfully underfoot. Her frightened panting escalated. “I’m going to get you!” the man bellowed, thick anger resonating in his booming voice. “You’re mine, Missy!” But Missy didn’t want to believe it. For days he’d kept her imprisoned, locking her in the corner of that dark room with no food or water, only acknowledging her existence to threaten her with whatever new surgical tool he’d procured. The fear of those horrendous tools drove her to run faster, faster… until she tripped.