Tears spilled from her eyes as she fled from the cabin. The baby in her arms screamed for her mama. "Hush," she tried to comfort the child through her tears. "Mama will come soon enough." But she knew that wouldn't happen. Eighteen year old Abby was a prisoner here, as was the child she held and the child's eighteen year old mother. Abby and her friend Carrie had been here for over three years, ever since they had witnessed the murder of one of the most prominent men in the community, John Bancrift. The murderer had taken them captive and held them here ever since. Now, sadly, it seemed that Carrie was getting out the only possible way: death.
Carrie's screams rang out through the valley they lived in. Roger Preston, their captor, was none too nice. He and his friends often took advantage of the girls. It wasn't too often they had lady prisoners. The child, only two weeks old, was a result of Roger's friend Timothy staying with them for a week in September last year. Carrie had named the girl Anna in honor of Carrie's mother. She had hoped, one day, to show the child to her namesake. But it seemed that dream was gone, as Carrie was now being beaten, literally, to death.
The valley was suddenly quiet. Too quiet. Fresh tears poured from Abby's eyes as she realized Carrie must be dead. Anna, who had been screaming all this time, was silent, adding to the feeling of death all around her.
"Where is that fool girl," Abby heard Roger mutter as he banged open the door to the cabin. She clutched Anna all the closer as they huddled together on a barrel next to the barn. Roger stomped out the door, his footsteps clattering on the rough wood of the porch.
"Hey!" he shouted. "I know you're out there! Show yourself, girl!" Then, spotting them next to the barn, Roger marched over and grabbed Abby's arm. "Git in the house and stay there." Abby could smell the whisky on his breath as he hissed the words. She jerked her arm free of his grasp.
"I've no desire to go into the house," Abby snapped at him. "All I will find is my best friend, dead."
Roger threw his head back and laughed, an evil, resounding laugh. "You really think me so heartless, that I would kill an innocent child's mother?"
"I think you heartless and many more things that I don't care to mention in front of the baby."
"Well, contrary to your beliefs, the girl is not dead. She simply passed out as I attempted to shut her up. Her screams were deafening. I was getting a rather bad headache." He turned to her with a bored look in his eyes.
"You are a cruel man." Abby fairly spat the words. "First of all for murdering in the first place. Second, for taking us hostage. Third, for letting all your friends, as well as yourself, come and take us and-," Abby was cut off by his rough words and foul smelling breath.
"That is enough." Roger's words were precise with every syllable accented. "I will not allow you to speak to me in such a fashion. If you feel you must continue, you will fare no better than your friend. Need I say more?"
"No. I've heard quite enough already." Abby spun around and marched past him into the house.
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