She slipped off the end of the bed, and stood up unsteadily. In the dim light she could make out two thick metal plates fixed into the floor, and these were what held her captive. The chains themselves were tight, and they were very heavy. She couldn’t remove them without a weapon of some kind, or the keys to her ankle chains, of course. It was a terrible feeling, being held captive like this, left to lie in her own stench, her own urine, like a fucking animal. But she wasn’t going to let this man know how much that affected her. He’d not harmed her since that first night, when he had knocked her unconscious, but she could still feel the pain from where he had hit her. If he had hit her like that once, he wouldn’t care about having to do it again.

She dressed herself quickly in the fresh clothes, pulling the skirt she’d been wearing over her head. Her underwear was filthy but she couldn’t remove it with the chains. At least the clean clothes gave her a feeling of power and reminded her of how strong she could be if necessary. She could not allow herself to think otherwise; if she gave in to her fears, this man would beat her, and she was determined that she would never give up without a fucking fight. She had fought her father, the big dangerous villain, tooth and nail, so she was fucked if she was going to let anyone else get the better of her now. She forced herself to concentrate on the predicament that she was in, reminding herself that, no matter what might have passed between her and her father, he was the only chance she had to survive; if anyone was capable of finding her, and rescuing her, it was her dad.

She saw how stained the mattress was with her own bodily functions and, using all her strength, she finally managed to turn it over. It was difficult and exhausting, but it was something she needed to do. This was about her refusing to let the man who was holding her captive demoralise her completely. She climbed back on to the bed, pleased at what she had achieved for herself.

She still felt filthy, though. She could smell her own urine and body odour. Her breath was rank, her skin felt greasy, oily and grubby. She could feel the large scab on her scalp – from where the man had beaten her unconscious – which had bled quite badly. She still felt pain whenever she moved her head around.