Another man, Streegan, if she recalled his name correctly, took a turn in watching her. Dru did not hate this one as much as those before him...but she still thought she may need to do away with him to keep Bree safe. It no longer mattered about her safety. If she died, then many others would be better for it, even. But if she lived, she could use herself to protect everyone. Put herself between them and danger.
Not caring if she died or not, did have benefits in that area. Fear would not keep her from keeping another alive.
He advised her against making her captors too angry, as they knew where Kakaeran was and would not hesitate to drag him there and break him in front of her. She could not take that. Someone else being broken would break her.
That was essentially all she remembered of their conversation. They had not spoken for very long, before he was relieved by a timid sort of fellow, named...what was it...Jeb? Something at least similar to that name. He was kind. Gentle. Entirely out of place.
He handed her a mug of tea, which her weakened, wounded wrists could not support. The mug fell and broke immediately once he let go of it. She was embarrassed, not that she had done it in front of someone, but that she was now this weak. He seemed pained about this, as if he felt her pain and more. He helped her drink the second mug of tea he prepared. He didn't agree with how they were treating her, but seemed to think Mahnik's abuse was his way of showing love.
She explained what love truly is. Out of all of the odd things to speak of in such a situation, explaining love was not something she'd expected. During the course of the conversation, she realized this man loved this screwed up little group. He didn't say it outright, but it was clear. He begged her not to kill them when she escaped. When.
He kept her cuffs loosened, asking her kindly not to try to escape while he watched her. She promised that while he watched her, she would not. She hadn't finished planning yet, after all.
That night, however, he was gone. The entire house appeared to be asleep. Most of her was throbbing, but especially her wrists. But she had a job to do.
She worked her right hand out of the cuff clamped around her wrist. She bit back a whimper as she set her dislocated thumb against herself. She couldn't make any noise and be discovered. She worked with whatever her hands could reach and eventually released her left hands as well. Her feet were much quicker work.
She stood. Her head swam as her legs nearly buckled beneath her. She bit her cheek hard, forcing the sudden pain so it would force her to stay alert. She walked slowly and nearly silent, though her legs wobbled dangerously. She looked around for anything to cover her naked torso, but found nothing. That wasn't the main concern.
Her brain was foggy...as if in a dream. She thought she might have been dreaming. Enough of the memory of how she got out was missing that it felt more like a dream. Through the bookcase. Through the door, past the sleeping bodies. In the open air. Her eyes filled immediately as the sweet smell hit her nostrils and the breeze cooled her skin. She began walking, then, strengthened by the freedom of her escape, she began running. Albeit not a very fast run, nor very stable, but running nonetheless.
She had escaped.
