I pictured my horrible captor. I thought of his long beard and salt-and-pepper hair. He had to be at least as old as my father. The woman looked as old as he. Which meant I could outlive them. The thought was like a lightning bolt inside my mind. It might be twenty years, or maybe thirty, but one day they were going to die. And when they did, I would be free of them. And I could go back to my life.
