Caroline waited for the front door to click closed and then hobbled to the window. Carfeul not to ruffle the blinds and give herself away, she pressed her one good eye to the gap in the corner and looked down at the man crossing the driveway. After watching him steer the SUV down the street and out of sight, she decided it was time. This would be her only chance.
      "**** you bastard," she murmured aloud. "Burn in hell!"
      Caroline shuffled to the hallway, aggravated with her nerves for jumping at every creaking floorboard. The pain was excruciating and she fought to stave off the blackness threatening to claim her. With each slam of her right foot and drag of the broken, mangled left, the hopeless feelings that had filled her lifted a bit more.  She had only to look back into the room she'd been held captive in for the last few weeks to remind her of what was at stake. Certain death was an amazing motivator.
      Reaching the stairwell, Caroline braced herself for the agony to come. The steps would not be easy in her condition, but she'd planned well and knew the best way to do it. Holding out her left leg and reaching down to the floor, Caroline lowered her behind to the top step as gently as she could. The protestations from her skinned hands gave her momentary pause, but she could not dawdle. She was a broken, bloody mess. While her body performed the slide and drop motions to bring her down the stairs, Caroline mentally assessed the damages and how much of a hinderance they might prove to be.
      Her scalp was aching from the hair he'd pulled out the first day there, leaving bald patches all over. She'd been shocked by her reflection. Of course, that was when she'd been able to see very well, just hours before he'd ruined her right eye. She had been sobbing quietly in the closet, trying not to wake him. He'd come in and found her there and threw her back on the bed, snapping her wrists into the handcuffs with an efficiency that scared her to the core. Sure that the danger had passed for the moment, she'd started planning, but she'd been wrong. He returned a short time later carrying a tool box and she watched in horror as he withdrew a flathead screwdriver and a pair of needle-nose pliers. She began screaming as he advanced on her, and he had pummelled her all over. Face, arms, breasts, stomach, legs. She'd passed out. When she came to, the intensity of the pain induced vomiting. Turning her head to allow the vomit, she felt a sickeningly wet plop on the bridge of her nose and a stream of warm blood coursed down her face. He'd pulled the eyeball out of the socket and sliced it open, severing the optic nerve and blinding her right eye, leaving it dangling for her enjoyment. He'd brought her a bandage and medical tape the next day to cover it. Said it looked ugly.
      Caroline's face was hardly recognizable. The right eye's bandages were filthy and caked with blood, the left was swollen and the color of plums, and her nose had a jagged cut across the hump. It was also curved to the side, obviously very broken. The lips that had talked back to him were swelled to the size of a baseball and sporting a slice from the corner extending into her cheek. Her jaw was definitely broken on one side, and possibly on the other as well. Her mouth housed many shattered remnants of teeth but most were missing. A mass of contusions decorated her forehead.
      Her torso and arms were relatively unscathed, suffering only bruises and a few lacerations, but even these were healing and only produced mild discomfort. Her legs were still sore from being punched, and on one occasion, bitten, but it was her foot that gave her the most pain.
      That same morning, her left foot had been secured in a vice on the desk, hammered with a ball peen, and, less than an hour ago, begun to be sawed off. She'd passed out again, but the agony had brought her around soon enough, forcing her to endure the majority of the torture session in full awareness. He'd hacked off about two thirds of her foot when the saw blade snapped in half. Caroline had been gagged with a wife beater. Ironic, considering that she had once been married to the man doing these things to her - a fact that had not been lost on him. He had laughed at his ingenius choice in material and told her what it was as he stuffed it into her mouth.
      With the saw blade broken, he had dragged her back to the bed and cuffed her to the corner posts, sharing with her that the hardware store was only ten minutes away. He'd been so confident that she was secure that he had left her feet loose. Caroline saw this as a stroke of good luck because she knew that she'd never be able to undo the cuffs on her feet once her hands were free.
      The only way to do it had taken her days to work up the nerves to consider, but it was her only option, and now, her only chance. Once he'd left the room, Caroline had set to work. She bit down hard on the gag, counted to three, and began to rip both hands out. It had taken seven hard tugs, a tremendous amount of will and strength, and almost all of the skin on her hands to get them free, but she'd been determined to get out of the cuffs.
      And then she was at the bottom of the stairs, looking through the hallway to the back door. The door to her freedom. She'd never been so ecstatic to see a damned door in her life. Caroline hobbled her way into the kitchen and snatched a dish towel and an oven mitt off of the counter. If she left a blood trail, Tom would know where to find her. She slipped the oven mitt over her foot, crying out as the nerves reacted, then wrapped her left hand in the towel.
      The door was locked and it hurt a great deal to do it, but she managed to turn the deadbolt and open it. Fresh air flooded her nostrils and assaulted her lungs, bringing tears to her eye. Caroline sent up a thankful prayer when she saw that there were no steps to contend with and set out across the back yard.
      A big two story barn filled most of the horizon, showing only patches of the red paint that had once covered the entire structure. Collapsing on one side, obviously neglected, the barn was old country picturesque. It was here that Caroline stopped to rest her throbbing foot and get a look at what lay beyond. On the left was a small wooden tool shed. The sliding door was partly open and she could barely make out the contents, but there was no mistaking the items on the ground in front of it. Shining in the afternoon sun, Caroline's eye picked out a brand new shovel, a few bags of cement mix, and a bag of lye. She'd seen enough horror flicks to know he was planning on killing her for sure.
      She made her way to the shed and grabbed the smooth handle of the shovel. It would make a fine walking stick and she needed all the help she could get. Without so much as a glance back, Caroline started forward again, past the barn and the old bath house, and on to the fields beyond. She found herself standing before a fence, an old split log rail fence with a two foot gap between. In her pre-captive days, she would have simply swung one leg over the bottom rail and slipped on to the other side. But with her foot barely hanging on, this would be a challenge she hadn't prepared for. Caroline was trying to figure out the best way to do it when she heard the slam of a vehicle door. She didn't have to wonder whose vehicle was the source; she had come to know the sounds of his truck over the last few weeks. 
      Soon, she thought, he would find out she had escaped and come looking for her. He would find the blood on the stairs and know where she went, find her here by the fence and she would surely die right there. In a forgotten field overrun with wild grass and tulips. Bright, bold, beautiful wild tulips.
      Caroline decided she wouldn't go out that easily. She would fight through the pain, get over the fence, and hide until he either gave up looking for her, or found her and killed her on the spot. But she would go down letting him have some, by God. She looked around her. Once she cleared the fence, it was all blue skies and tulips. Except.......wasn't that her car under the willow tree over there?
      It was hard to tell with the sun glaring directly overhead, but she thought she recognized the gentle slope of the windshield and point of the hood. If she could just make it over there, and if the keys were still in it, and if it wasn't tampered with, if it ran, she could take off in it and get the **** outta Dodge! Caroline wasn't too thrilled with all the IFS, but she had no other option. 
      Caroline dived through the fence's gap, righted herself, and struck out for her Cadillac, digging the shovel into the dirt to keep steady. Each step was unbearable and twice Caroline toppled over with spasms in her calf, but she forced herself to continue. She glanced back once but saw no sign of him and dug the shovel in even harder. As she got closer to the willow tree, she saw that it was indeed her car. The chances of the keys being inside were in her favor because Tom wouldn't risk keeping them on his person, nor did she think he would want them in his house. That thought kept her hopes alive and Caroline pushed her body even harder, reaching deep inside for strength that she hadn't known she posessed. 
      She was almost there, could in fact see the outlines of the door panels and the hood ornament, when she heard a muffled scream behind her. Caroline froze in place, hearing her name screamed again. There was no way to be sure, but she thought it had come from inside the barn, and guessed that he had been searching for her there. She knew he would be coming out to the field next and that he would catch her before she reached the car. She kept moving as quickly as she could, scanning her immediate surroundings for cover. Up ahead was a rather tall patch of wild grass. If she could just make it there before he saw her, she could crounch down and hide until he moved on.
      Caroline chanced a look behind her and saw that he had just rounded the corner of the barn and was looking out into the field. Luckily, he was looking in the other direction. She dropped down to her hands and knees and began to crawl to the patch of grass. Rocks and clumps of dirt sent shooting pains up her arms whenever her hands slammed onto them, but she refused to let it slow her down. After what seemed an eternity, she reached her spot and eased into the center of it. Listening for footsteps, she crouched down onto one knee and tried to calm her racing heart. She pulled the shovel in enough to conceal it and waited.
      More than anything that had happened to her - the beatings, the biting, the cutting and sawing - for Caroline, the hardest part to get through was the waiting. She felt like a lab rat, knowing they were coming for her, that the experiments would eventually kill her, but powerless to do anything about it. Just wait.
      Caroline heard his heavy panting before his footsteps, and he was close to her hiding spot by the sound of it. She tensed herself for the moment of discovery, when he would run by and see her there. The muscles in her back and neck went rigid and she felt her hands curl into fists, but then she heard his footfalls getting more distant. She knew she'd just barely avoided being caught. Peeking out of the tall grass, Caroline watched him run towards her car. Of course he would look there. No-brainer! Caroline would have headed for it too, and when he saw she wasn't there, and if the keys were inside, well....... She couldn't allow him to cut off her only chance at escape.
      Slowly, Caroline crawled out of the tall grass she'd been hiding in, relieved that her head was below the height of the surrounding grass and flowers, and moved in the direction Tom had went. It seemed to her like hours, crawling through the field. She poked her head up once, to get her bearings and saw that he had wandered out past the old willow tree and up a small hill. Adrenaline coursed through her and she began crawling at a much quicker pace, no longer as concerned to not disturb the vegetation around her. She moved in an awkward frenzy, ignoring the pain, and only slowing once she reached the cool shadow of the giant willow. Taking a deep breath Caroline popped her head up to get a quick look at where she was.
      Her breath caught in her throat and her heart skipped a few beats as she saw that Tom was standing only eight feet from her. His back was facing her and he was leaning on the trunk of her car staring off into the distance. His chest heaved up and down and he was in the middle of a hoarse coughing fit. 
      Caroline hoped the noise he was making was enough to cover her while she snuck up to see if the keys were in the car. She moved as quickly and stealthily as possible in the direction of her Seville. She reached the passenger side door and raised up to her knees. At first glance into the grimy window, Caroline's heart sank. It looked as if nothing was there, but then a heavy thump sent the whole vehicle rocking and a brief glimmer of metal caught her eye in the igniton.
      She looked to the left and saw Tom's head through the front windshield of her car. He had not seen her there, but in that moment Caroline saw something in his hand that set her on edge. With one hand, he was alternating between scratching his head and rubbing his face. But in the other, the shiny, black handle of his service pistol sparkled in the afternoon light like a prism. Caroline was convinced then that her death was imminent and that the willow tree's billowy branches would be her last vision on Earth. She dropped to her hands and knees again, then rolled over to lay on the ground, hair fanning out around her head like a halo. 
      Her mind served up the moments of great joy in her life and she smiled as she saw her husband Ken holding their daughter Joy, a healthy, pink skinned, blonde haired newborn in the hospital. Her vision skipped to baby Joy's first smile, first words, first steps. 
      She'll never know me now, Caroline thought. She's too young to remember me at all. A crushing despair filled her, and she tried to imagine what would happen when she was gone. But a sudden blast of adrenaline pushed Caroline to her feet and, before she knew it, placed her squarely behind her ex-husband. In her hand, Caroline still fiercely gripped the shovel, and looking at it startled her because she had been unaware that she'd been carrying it. With arms that moved of their own accord, Caroline watched as the shovel swung up and over her head. Her body twisted into the batter's stance, a position she was most comfortable with thanks to her parents' insistence that she play sports. She cleared her mind of all the jumbled thoughts and focused on Tom's head, willing it to look like a baseball. She stood that way, waiting. 
      Waiting for him to turn around and see her there. She wanted him to know he'd been beaten at his own game. Wanted him to know that she, Caroline Hughes-Rigsby, would be taking HIS life instead, thank you very much. And that she would survive, that was the most improtant thing. That the son of a bitch couldn't end her.
      As if on cue, Tom turned to the rear of the car, maybe intending to search the barn again. Maybe ready to give it up, pack his belongings, and take off. But certainly he wasn't expecting to see Caroline there wielding a shovel with a mad grin on her face, lopsided from her injuries and lending her the appearance of the certifiably insane. 
      Without so much as a peep, the shovel arced and shot forward in a flash, burying the blade three inches deep into his skull with a disturbing thwunk! Blood spurted out of the hole in his face, covering the car's trunk and Caroline's lower extremities. His eyes bulged and a look of terror seized his handsome features. Caroline felt a deep sense of satisfaction at that and watched as he finally slumped over and hit the ground. She tottered over herself and crawled to his side, stopping a mere foot from his dying face. His mouth was repeatedly opening and closing as if he were trying to speak, but then his eyes locked onto her and she bent down to whisper in his ear.
      "Ha ha, Tommy Boy. I just smashed your **** face in with the shovel you planned to bury me with. How's that for irony, you ****?"
      Caroline watched her ex-husband take his last hitching breath and then go still before she dared to leave his side. She managed to crawl a few feet when the emotions of the whole ordeal overwhelmed her. She collapsed in a heap and gave in to the darkness, thinking how absolutely beautiful, breathtakingly gorgeous the tulips above her were.

*********************************************

      Some time later, Caroline woke to a dark sky and a full moon. She was cold and shivering, chilled further by the breezes sweeping over her. She sat up gingerly, babying her left foot. Three feet away, Tom's lifeless body lay face up in the grass, and Caroline forced the bile in her throat back down. After her stomach had settled, she crawled to the car, opened the door, and climbed into the driver's seat. Her fingers groped blindly for the ignition, and when she finally did grab the keys, the nerves in her hand went haywire. She bit her lip, tried again, and started the car. While the Cadillac warmed up, Caroline threw her head back onto the headrest and closed her good eye. First, she would go to the police station and tell them everything that had happened and where to find Tom's body. They would surely send her to the hospital, where she could call Ken and let him know she was okay. Maybe they would even let her clean up a bit before his arrival. Then, once she was released, she would go home to her little angel Joy. Now that she knew just how precious life really was, Caroline vowed to never let her family be taken for granted. Maybe she would even go on vacation, just the three of them, somewhere they could be alone and enjoy themselves. But, she thought, never again in my entire life will I ever TIPTOE THROUGH THE TULIPS.
      Feeling more alive than ever before, Caroline shifted the car into drive.