Terror's Grip

A Sheriff Lexie Wolfe Novel Shadows and fog filled Sheriff Lexie's brain. No familiarity. No point of reference. Where am I? Spots ached inside her flesh-deep bruises that disturbed her nerves. Her left hand touched her forehead, but the dried blood wouldn't allow the hair to be pushed to the side. Her right arm suspended above her held by a chain attached to a two-inch metal clamp around her wrist. The chain trailed through the broken cellar window. Lexie braced one hand against the wall to bring herself to standing. The movement sent pains pulsating through her body. Up and down her stiff legs marched like a wooden soldier. Her left hand fisted and punched forward as if a boxing bag, or her captor's new face, dangled in front of her. Lexie's scream filled the cold darkness. "I WON'T DIE WEAK!"