This time she woke up mad. There was no way she was going to be a victim in this concrete jail. In her mind, she decided it was time to start formulating a plan. Unsure of how many children there actually were, she thought there were perhaps three. She reached down to see what condition her legs were in and discovered there were two primitive splints taped around her broken limbs. Knowing they would eventually heal, she hoped they had at least been set properly. The candle was burning across the room and she examined her surroundings. A simple concrete room, probably at least partially underground. A wooden door, probably locked from the outside. The table under the candle, old and barely standing. No windows at all. She strained to lean over the side of the bed and found a small plastic bottle of water. She grabbed it and drank it down, feeling much better afterwards. She struggled to sit up and still couldn’t. She wondered when she might see someone again. The room smelled musty, confirming she was likely underground, maybe in a cellar. If she was going to get out of here, she might be able to manipulate the children. That man was obviously controlling and abusive. She hoped he wouldn’t return any time soon. Yes, her only hope was the children.
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