>>61833420Carla Hodge sat up in order to look at the shackle. It was secured firmly to her ankle and she could see immediately that there was no chance of her wiggling out of it. Instead she grabbed onto the chain and yanked. It clanged. Her ears perked up and she waited to hear if someone was coming. Her heart pounded underneath her ribcage and her mouth and throat went totally dry. When she heard nothing she yanked again. Her energy was beginning to drain from her and her head was pounding again. She saw spots but kept yanking. If she stopped trying to get the chain from the wall then her fear would set in. A throbbing head and exhaustion was preferable to pain.
"That ain't gon' budge sweetheart," the voice said from her right and she jerked her head. Her stomach lurched and a strangled cry left her throat as did. Leaning in through a screenless window was the man that had shot her. She knew it was him because of his voice, but his mask and sunglasses were no longer on his head. His hat remained and he wore a white wife beater from the waist up. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and the muscles in his arms bulged. Veins pulsed down his bicep and his chest was broad and firm. If she had any hope that she might be able to fight against a violation it suddenly went flying from her body and her shoulders slumped.
"I welded that there special for you," he said and she pressed herself against the wooden wall. She stared at him and he seemed quite content to stare back at her silently. From her spot on the bed she could see his eyes were a dark grey, like storm clouds. He had the slightest bit of scruff on his face and he had a rugged, square jaw. For the first time she noticed the work gloves he had in his hands as he switched holds. He reached down by his feet, his face momentary disappearing, before he raised a glass jaw filled with water to his mouth. He raised his eyebrows as she stared at it, her thirst screaming at her. "You thirsty, doll?"
