I barely have a minute to pull myself together before he strides back through the door. Maybe if I'd had longer, I would've been up and off the floor, looking for another way out. I know no matter what I do I won't get away from Andres; he's far too big, strong and skilled. But my survival instinct is kicking in. I don't want to die here. I don't want to die at all!
I huddle against the wall and try to stop the sobs spilling uncontrollably from my lips as he walks past me with a couple of bags. "Get up," he growls as he walks by.
When I don't move he transfers one of the bags to his other hand and grabs my arm, dragging my off the floor. I gasp and flail around for balance, half falling against the wall. He doesn't seem to notice or care as he starts walking again, continuing through the house with me in tow. I stumble behind him, exhausted and frightened of what might come next. I lift a hand to my throat, which is sore and bruised.