She could feel the still wet sand between her toes. Strange, cause her bruised body couldn't fell anything else.
She strained to look up. A ray of light hit her face from a gap between the curtains. This time she wished someone peeped inside.
A year ago she had met Paul in one of those bars where single ladies went to be picked up. He was a charmer, aah and that beard.
It wasn't love at first sight, but a few gin and tonics down; they were going at it in the bar's store room.
They met again. This time at the museum. She thought he was trying to impress her. His knowledge about 17th century artists indeed did.
A few more drinks that night and all she could remember was waking up in this tiny room with her hands tied. This was a year ago.
Her body ached every time she took a breath. She wasn't sure what day it was, but presumed it was a Sunday. Her went to church on Sundays.
He even read scriptures to her on Sunday. She knew he would be home soon. She knew what would have to be done.
For a month after she was tied, she screamed and screamed and screamed. He looked to enjoy it. For a month he didn't touch her.
The screaming eventually stopped. Forcefully. He gagged her mouth. This was also the first day tore her clothes into shreds.
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