Bid for Freedom

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A sharp crack ripped through the silence followed by muffled sobs and hiccups as Erica hid, huddled beneath the giant oak desk that dominated the room.  She flinched just in time for a sharp cry to echo around the frigid, bare mausoleum of a study as another resounding slap of hard cane against soft flesh rent the air.  Noiselessly, slow tears rolled in halting rivulets down her cold cheeks, frozen, unable to help.  She bowed her head, eyes fixed determinedly on the crumpled five pound note clenched tightly in her white-knuckled fist.  They cannot find me.  They must not find me. 


'Where is my money, tell me you little thief!'


 


 

Created: Jan 04, 2011

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