The crack of a whip lashed across the darkness, sending chills down the young woman's spine.
She peered out at the shimmering ocean waves, eyes darting back and forth, hoping that they were not close.
No sign of them, the only noises now the whistle of the cold breeze across the beach and her own sigh of relief.
Her hands gripped the jagged edges of the stone, damp with ocean spray, her hiding place, as she glanced around, plotting the best route for escape.
Fingers numb she grabbed hold of her small pack- on three she would make a dash across the sand.
One, two, three, and she was off, focused only on her feet pounding against the sand, her pack swinging across her back,
The cracking came again closer this time, and her legs pumped faster, harder; she had to get away.
She made the mistake of looking back and saw the man, his tall figure merely a shadow, racing toward her a few feet back, tossing the whip ahead of him.
No, he could not and would not catch her, her body would not suffer any more bruises and cuts at his hands, not now, not ever.
Suddenly pain exploded through her right calf,a bullet, sending her down to the sand, contorting her face.
Her eyes closed and her breathing quickened; she'd been caught and she knew it.