She tried to say yes but couldn’t get the words out with his hand around her throat. Instead she mustered every bit of her strength to give him a small nod. He let go, opened the door and shoved her into the room. She stumbled and landed roughly onto the cement, catching herself with her hands just before her sore knees could smash into the hard surface. Her wrists stung from the impact. Coughing and sputtering, she tried to catch her breath. She heard Laura gasp at the sight. He chained Miranda back to the wall and left, slamming the door and clicking the lock behind him.

‘Are you okay?’ Laura asked, worried, scrambling to get closer to her.

‘I hit him with a hot pan,’ she replied and then began laughing despite the pain it caused her injured face.

‘Are you crazy? Miranda, he could have killed you.’

‘He’s gonna kill us anyway, Laura. Don’t you get that? I had to try.’

Laura’s face relaxed and she sat back on her heels. ‘Besides your blistering cheek, your eye is swollen and there’s a cut up by your eyebrow. At least let me help you clean it.’

‘Yeah, I can feel it swelling.’ Blood dripped from her face and fell onto the blanket. Miranda wiped it away but it left a stain.

Laura looked at her and said, ‘I’m sorry.’

Miranda let the tears fall. ‘Yeah, me too. I may have just blown our only chance of getting out of here. I was so close, Laura. I made it outside and ran all the way to the road before he caught me.’

‘You were outside? What was it like?’ Laura whispered, her eyes wide.

‘It was amazing. The fresh air, the sun on my skin …’ She could still smell the damp leaves, could feel the wind whipping across her face. Her heart ached at the feeling of elation she had when she’d thought she’d reached freedom, only for it to be ripped away again.

As Laura cleaned the cut near Miranda’s eyebrow with a cool, damp washcloth, Miranda pressed another to her burned cheek. Biting her lip at the stinging sensation, she pushed away the despair at her failed escape and instead thought about the pan she’d held in her hand. She could feel its weight, the rough texture of the iron under her fingertips, the whoosh it made when it sailed through the air, the hum it made when it hit his face. Miranda smiled. If they couldn’t beat him, she sure as hell was going to go down swinging.

CHAPTER 19