She woke in a cold sweat. The first thing she noticed was how her whole body ached. Her arms were suspended above her head and she could feel the rough rope binding her delicate wrists. It was dark but Lucy could make out the room around her; it seemed to be an office sort of cabin, much like hers. With a worn wooden floor that her boots just scraped and a chest to her left and a hammock to her right. She craned her neck to see a desk, covered in rubbish and trinkets, along with most of the space around it.
She instantly regretted moving by the shooting pain that ran from her neck down her back. The blonde breathed in shakily, then breathed out, pushing out her chest. 'Good' she thought, feeling the coldness of her pistol tucked under her breasts. Weird, they hadn't checked her.
She moved her wrists a little trying to find a weak spot in the knot but it was pretty tight. It was tight enough to suspend her; she tried kicking her feet a tiny bit but the soles of her boots barely skimmed the ground. Her black skirts were ripped, and now only knee length and her corset felt too tight on her aching spine. She sighed, she liked these clothes… but of course she puts them on the one time they're going to be ruined.
"So here I am," she muttered, "left to hang…" she stared into the darkness angrily but couldn't help holding her breath when her mind quietly whispered, "At least this time it's not by the neck…"