Annie’s hands were practically frozen to the paddle that quickly cut through the cold icy water. Her fingers were blue and purple. She could barely breathe and was constantly whipping her head around, making sure she wasn’t being followed by her masters.

It had been 11 months since she had been brought to that god forsaken manor. Many of the other slaves did not live past their first few months at the house. The condition were brutal…more than brutal, inhumane some would say.

Somehow Annie had survived this long, and she couldn’t take it anymore, physically and mentally. She had attempted at many escapes, but failed every time. This time she hoped would be different.

There was a river that ran very close to the manor that Annie planned to paddle down during the cover of night. It was mid December and the water was cold enough to stop her heart.

After she put some distance between her and the manor, Annie stopped checking behind herself so often.

A couple miles down the river, she looked behind her again, and a couple hundred feet back was another canoe, in fast pursue of her. She grabbed the paddle that laid across her lap so fast she almost fell into the river.

She paddled like her life depended on it, which it did. The man behind her-which she assumed could only be one of her masters-thankfully hadn’t gained much distance on her.

But in the pitch black of night she saw another man running with a torch along the back of the river with two dogs by his side who barked hysterically.

Annie’s heart pounded as she knew of the narrowness and shallowness of the part of the river that was not far up ahead. She paddled as fast a her cold arms could, hoping to reach the area first and make a run for the woods.

But it was too late. Upstream was three other men and their lanterns, waiting for Annie.

It was over.