She gasped for air, her breath caught in her throat. Her body jerked into a sitting position, her nightie soaked with perspiration. She trembled as she climbed from the bed and had to grab hold of the wall when her knees buckled. Her heart beat in a painful rapid tattoo. She placed a hand over her chest in an effort to ease the vice like grip. She could still smell his rank breath and feel his hands upon her skin. Her stomach rolled. She remembered clearly how he’d stroked the chain around her neck down to the golden heart shaped locket she’d worn. A hard yank had the delicate jewellery snapping and in the next moment it was gone, most likely a disturbing keepsake. She’d never been as terrified as when she’d looked down the long barrel attached to the gun. It had only been a stroke of luck that a noise had startled her attacker which ultimately saved her life, the gun jerking in his grasp as he flinched, the bullet missing its target and grazing the side of her head as it exited the chamber.
