Scar A Lonely Escort Part Three

 The Escapes

Scar woke up in Morana’s arms. She looked down and saw her wrists were completely bound. She saw that they were bound by police handcuffs. Suddenly all the events flashed through her mind. Quickly she dropped and the moment that she landed she started running. She kept this up until she felt something collide with her shins then her head hit the ground beneath her hard. Then she felt her hands around her ankles, then the metal handcuffs. The next thing that she felt was her dragging her by the chains of the cuffs of her ankles. 

She then felt pain erupt from her face. She wriggled as she tried to get her ankles free but she whipped her ankles causing her body to hit the ground. She tried to pick herself up only for her to hit the ground again. She tried to do this again and again and again until she finally let go. She pulled her legs in and shoved her in the side and she got up. 

She hopped and hopped and hopped until she was hit from behind them her head hit the gravel. She was pulled back by her hair. She then felt herself being dragged. She screamed and screamed. Then she was yanked in and grabbed by the throat! She grabbed her wrist as she moved on and on and on. She was helpless but to look up at the sky. She could feel her hand was harder than it needed to be. Yet she could tell it was enough to choke her but not to kill her.

She tried to hit her again. Then her body was raised and thrust into the ground. The pain stunned her enough to give Morana a break. So she was able to get her further and further and further away from the door. So it took her a good pace before she was able to come to her senses.

She looked down to see that the door was closed. She looked up at Morana. She looked around for anyone else. She could not do anything but wait until night before she could have the next opportunity. So she had to wait until the day wore on. She saw the sun rising higher and higher in the sky. 

Then lunch came. She felt her hunger pangs. Yet it was something that she would have to put up with. Once when she was with the witches they starved her or missed several meals. Yet she knew that if she did not get away now then she would have to get used to it again. She would have to get used to the pain again. She would have to get used to them draining her blood to a point that she would pass out again. She would have to get used to them using her in their potions and spells again.

She felt herself starting to shake as she remembered how they would hide behind her when all those people came before they would kill them. Sometimes they would make her watch. She closed her eyes in dread.

“Will you kill them?” She asked.

“Eventually. Now, shut up.”

“So you have a weapon?”

“No.”

She looked aside. She could feel her heart starting to pound.

“And will you stop shaking!”

She tried to calm herself down but she could not. She bit her lip as she tried to calm herself down. She knew that she would feel more pain. Then again she was going to feel more pain. So what was ultimately the point? What was the point of appeasing this woman that mother her existence? She would never be loved by her nor would she lift a finger to help her. And why? Because she was a Mythos Puros, whatever that was!

“What is a Mythos Puros?” She asked, trying to get her body back under control.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I was never told,apart from what you have told me.”

“Shut up.”

So she dragged her the full day. When night fell, Morana pulled off her bag. She found a tree and dragged her to the nearby tree. She pulled out a nail and a hammer and hammered her handcuff chain into the tree and put a large rock on the chain of the handcuffs gently. 

After, she walked around and collected firewood. Once she had collected enough, she collected the stones and lit the fire. It was close enough for her to keep an eye on the girl but not enough for her to feel the warmth. She took out a flask filled with water and a packet of dried cup-of-soup. Then she pulled out a small pot and poured the inn and boiled it as she poured the contents of the pack in.

Scar looked away. 

When it was done she pulled out a small metal bowl and mug. Once it was all done she served herself the soup.

Scar tried not to look or cry upon smelling the food, which she found it difficult not to. This would have to be another thing to get used to. She would have to get used to seeing others eat a feast when all she would have would be the bare minimum of gruel. Then the hunger pangs became agony. She bit her lip as she could feel saliva filling her mouth as she fought against the suffocating tears. 

She just did not want to give this woman to see her so vulnerable and weak. She knew that she would take this opportunity to perform a cruel trick. She heard her stomach’s rumbling becoming louder and louder and louder. She closed her eyes, yet she could not help but feel the temptation of looking. Only for her to have eaten it all. 

She looked away, not even wanting to see the woman looking at her. She could feel her smiling wickedly at her.

“Did you want some of that?”

She kept her mouth shut. She did not dare open it.

“Sorry. No food for the thing.”

Suddenly she felt her body tense up as she remembered how the witches said that when she asked why she could not eat the same as them. 

Her eyebrows raised.

“What’s wrong?”

“Shut up! You’re not sorry and you just- you just want me dead!” She snapped as she could feel her tears flowing like rain.

She cocked her eyebrow.

“That’s true. Maybe it would be better if you did.”

She turned her head away as much as she could. She could feel herself shaking as she bit her lip to muffle her sobs. She had long since known that her tears were meaningless, yet she could not stop herself. She felt her depression sink into her as she cried. She was asleep with wet cold tears, meanwhile Morana slept in front of the fire.