The Valley Of Longing 1

Lynne Hendricks hit the ground with a wet splat. Under other circumstances, she would have been concerned about getting muddy, especially about getting her dress muddy, just then, however, she had other things to worry about, most important of which was the groping and grasping fingers of the man she had thought she had known. She hadn’t intended falling out of the Land Rover, but she preferred that to the alternative. She Didn’t understand what had happened; the evening had started so well, but things had changed when He brought out a bottle of wine, which she had declined. He had drunk nearly all of it on his own, and then, when it was getting on towards time for her to go home, he had moved in for a goodnight kiss, she had had no objection to the kiss, only to what he tried to do while kissing her. He was a little tipsy by that time, and paid no attention when she asked him to stop. Even if she had been willing to go further than just kissing, which she wasn’t, he was too rough; she felt as though she was being mauled, and no matter how she pleaded with him, and tried to push his hand away, he wouldn’t stop. It was only when he moved his hand to her leg, and began to slide it up, that she took more direct action. The sharp slap she landed on his cheek startled them both - it was completely out of character for her to do something like that, and it was hard to say which of them was more surprised by what she had done. Lynne sat there for several long moments, too stunned by what she had done to move, while he pulled back, a hand at his cheek even though the blow had not been hard enough to either hurt or leave a mark. It was only when he reached for her again, this time with something other than lust in his eyes, that Lynne found the impetus to move. She fumbled with the door next to her, and tumbled form the Land Rover when she got it open. Once on her feet, she looked around a little wildly, searching for a means of escape. To her right was the farmhouse the yard they were in belonged to, there was no-one there to help her, the house was a burned - out ruin. To her left was the drive that led from the yard to the road, and from there to the center of ‘Doring Draad’ going that way would mean going past him, which she was too afraid to do. The third option open to her was the overgrown field in front of her, on the far side of which was some woods; there was no help to be had in that direction, if anything it led further away from help rather than towards it, but it also led away from the man she now feared, and that was more important. All of that flashed through her mind in about a millisecond, too quickly for her to really be aware of it, and then she was off. She wasn’t the fastest runner she knew, but she was faster than her pursuer; she reached the fence, climbed it, and was ten meters into the field before he was even halfway to the fence. ‘Get back here, you bitch!’ The shout - harsh, cruel and loud - was so unexpected that Lynne couldn’t help slowing to look back over her shoulder. If the shout was a surprise, the look of insane rage on His face was a shock, she had never seen anything like it. She had never seen anything like it. She had thought she was scared when she scrambled from his Land Rover, now, though, she knew what it was to be terrified. Her heart pounded so fiercely she thought it was going to burst from her chest; her vision narrowed until all she could see was his face, and all she could hear was the pounding of his feet as he chased her through the knee-high grass of the overgrown field, and beneath the mud that coated her hands she could feel her palms sweating. She was so intent on what was behind her that she stumbled on the uneven ground and went down. Terror and shock made her want to scream, before she could do so, however, she hit the ground, burying her face in the mud and grass and leaving her unable to utter so much as a syllable. Lynne Hendricks was almost on her feet when He caught up to her, crashing into her like a rugby player desperate to keep the opposition from scoring. He knocked the air from her lungs and crushed her to he ground with his weight. The weight disappeared after a moment as He moved so he could roll her onto her back, but before she could refill her lungs he had a hand at her throat, choking her. ‘You fucking Bitch! Look what you’ve made me do.’ He snarled, screaming the words even though his face was barely a foot form hers. ‘All I was doing was copping a feel; why’d you have to overreact?’ Darkness crept into the edge of Lynne’s vision as she gasped for breath. She was a passive person usually, but when He began pawing at her, as he had back in the Land Rover, she found the courage and the strength to fight. She clawed at the hand that groped at her breasts and tore at her dress, and then at the hand that was squeezing her throat. When she failed to stop him that way she reached up to his face, searching for either his throat or his eyes. He continued to tear at her dress and grope at her with one hand, while he took the other from her throat so he could keep her hands from his own. Once, twice, three times he pushed her groping hand away, until finally, he got angry - angrier - balled his hand into a fist and punched her. ‘Lie still, you little bitch’, He ordered, hitting her hard in the face and rocking her head to the side. ‘If you don’t fight, this won’t hurt.’ He Immediately gave the lie to his words by hitting her a second time, splitting her lip and drawing blood. Lynne was afraid of what he was now capable of doing, and that fear, and the adrenaline it flooded her system with, gave her the strength to buck and heave like a Bronco trying to rid itself of a Rodeo rider. It came as such a surprise when the weight of his body on her shifted and lessened that she almost didn’t react in time to free herself. It was a second or so before she realised that she could move, and when she did she scrambled out from under him. As she did so she kicked out, hitting him in the groin. His face twisted into a grimace of agony, while his mouth hung open, though no sound escaped him, and his hands clasped at his balls. Slowly, as though he was a tree felled by a lumberjack. He toppled over. Her chest heaving, Lynne rolled onto her front and, with an enormous effort, pushed herself to her knees and then to her feet. She glanced quickly in the direction of her attacker but saw no sign of movement, which was a small comfort to her, and then set off across the field towards the trees. Her face hurt from the blows she had been struck, her throat felt as though his fingers were still around it, squeezing, and her lungs ached from the effort of trying to get air into them while he was strangling her, she couldn’t move quickly so she half walked, half jogged, her eyes fixed on the trees that were her goal. She would have been better off circling around and returning to the yard, from there she could have reached the village in about five minutes. Even if He made it back to his car there was little chance of him catching her, let alone stopping her, before reaching safety. None of that occurred to her, however; her thoughts were fixed on reaching safety, and she had already decided that safety lay within the trees on the other side of the field. ‘Come back here, You Bitch!’ The fear, which had been beginning to subside, returned at that, and Lynne felt a fresh burst of adrenaline flooding her system. She spared a brief glance over her shoulder and saw that He was on his feet again and chasing after her. The sight made her increase her pace and she covered the final twenty or so meters in under five seconds to slip between the trunks of the trees nearest to her and into the darkness of the woods. Despite having reached what her mind thought of safety, she didn’t stop, not until she had gone another thirty or so meters into them and felt certain he couldn’t find her. Lynne rested with her back against the trunk of a large oak and took deep breaths to calm herself. It was hard for her to remain calm, though, for every slight rustling noise she heard made her think that He was trying to creep up on her, making her heart thump a little more rapidly in her chest. ‘Where are you, Lynne? Come on, Lynne, where are you? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. Come on, I’ll take you home. I promise I won’t hurt you again.’ Lynne could hear Him crashing through the woods as he searched for her, and remained frozen where she was until the sounds of his approach grew to the point where she was sure He must find her at any moment. Frightened, she sought to slip away quietly though the trees, heading, she hoped, towards the far side of the woods and the river that would lead her back to the village. Leaves, twigs, and branches all slapped and caught at her head, shoulders, and clothes as she sought to escape quickly. She made no effort to defend herself from her, her hands were too busy for that; her left clutched at her dress, holding the torn fabric to her chest in a vain effort to protect her modesty, while her right went to the belt at her waist, searching for her mobile phone. Dismay joined with her fear as she realised she had lost it and so couldn’t call for help. How long it took her to make it through the woods to the far side, she didn’t know, but she was immensely relieved when she did. That relief disappeared as quickly as it had appeared when she realised she could see no sign of the village. Her eyes darted rapidly left and right as she tried to figure out where she was and, more importantly, where the village was, she should have been able to see the steeple of the church, which towered over the village, at the least, but not even that was visible. The only evidence of human habitation she could see were the ruins of an ancient stone building atop a hill a short distance to her right. Lynne had just turned to her left, having decided that her best course of action was to follow the river, which was bound to lead to her to the village, eventually, when He came crashing out of the woods. His chest was heaving, and his hair and clothes were a mess of leaves and twigs, which gave him the appearance of a crazed woodsman from a horror movie - the sight magnified her fear to even greater heights. ‘There you are, Lynne, I’ve been looking all over for you.’ he said slowly between deep breaths. Lynne felt like a rabbit in the headlight of an oncoming car; her brain screamed at her to run, the direction didn’t matter so long as it was away from him, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. She was glued to the spot and could only watch as he approached, one slow step at a time….