Author's Note: The first part of this chapter is in third person, although it centers around him. I'm glad you have stuck with me so far--the climax is coming, I promise. And I'm glad you all seem to like Samira--I rahter like her, myself. Thank you for your reviews! :)

Third Person/A. Crawford

Alexander Crawford practically bounded up the stairs toward his captives, a smirk upon his corpulent face. He hoped that the doctor, Mira's failed knight in shining armor, was awake—he would enjoy his nightcap ever so more if he had a witness—especially an unwilling witness.

At that thought, he felt sweat trickle down his brow and he ran a hand through his damp hair. He always sweated right before, and naturally during, his liaisons with his women. Especially Mira. Inevitably he had grown tired of her predecessors, but he really did not think he would get tired of her.

As he walked down the hallway toward his pleasure room, for that was how he thought of it, he considered calling for Amos. Mira always became quite frantic when there were two of them, and besides, the doctor had proved himself to be quite resilient and might attempt to put up another fight. Crawford preferred to do the hitting rather than be hit—he had once shot his boxing instructor in the leg for daring to strike him in the face.

That is not to say that Crawford was not capable of fighting, if he had too—he was more than sufficient in that regard, even greatly skilled, but like any coward he preferred if the person he was striking was smaller, weaker, and preferably unable to fight back.

All things considered, however, Mira's attempted violence upon his person always managed to amuse him—he purposefully kept the girl half-starved so that she was not a danger to him. Only once had she drawn blood and that had been the night she had seen her sister's body. Crawford smiled at the memory and halted in front of the door, putting his key in the lock and turning it.

"Hello Mira, my sweet," he began, but the words halted before they were across his lips.

He had one thought before he tore into the room; 'my whore is gone.'

--

Samira

You know he has found that you are gone and that Amos is dead because you hear an enraged scream from upstairs and then heavy footsteps moving up and down the hall. He is looking for you in every room, you realize. Soon, inevitably, he will find you.

You despise being helpless—which is the usual state you are forced to be in—and so you feel around the small hideaway with your fingers. If this were a dime novel from America—like the ones your last master occasionally gave you and you learned how to read and speak English from—there would be a large metal pipe or some other weapon miraculously in the room.

Sadly, you do not find any type of pipe or firearm in the room, but you do feel an exposed nail head sticking out of the floor. It is not the miracle weapon you hoped for, but it is better than nothing and so you use your right hand with its sore fingers to begin to pull at it. More doors slam upstairs and you hear crashes and thumps as furniture is thrown over.

You continue pulling at the nail. It has a large, flat head and is already protruding from the uneven floor boards. You worry the nail, using the space between the head and the floor for leverage, wiggling it back and forth with your right thumb and pointer finger. You do not use your left hand—there is no point in hurting that wrist even more.

Soon enough the tips of your fingers are bleeding again and your nails are broken. You continue using your thumb and switch to your middle finger. If it does not come loose soon you will try and pull it out with your teeth.

You hear him stomp down the steps angrily and a cobweb breaks free and floats down onto your head. "I know you are still in the house, Mira!" he bellows. "You could not have gotten far."

It is then, in your moment of anxiety while listening to him, that the nail pulls free. If you could, you would scream in triumph. Instead you squeeze the doctor's hand.

It is not much, but you have a nail. It is three inches long and you test the end of it—yes, it is sharp. If he finds you—when he finds you—you must be ready to attack. You cannot stay hidden forever, and he is coming.