The thought was too much for her. The past six months and all she had endured came rushing back to fill her brain. She dropped to her knees and cried.The sound of sobbing invaded Jason Jefferies' sleep. For a moment he lay there half-awake, wondering if the crying was something left in his mind by an unremembered dream. Then he realized the sobs were real; a woman was crying.Sitting up, he glanced to his side. Liz was nestled within their sleeping bag. The warmth of her naked body was assuring. Easing back the top of the sleeping bag, he quietly slipped out. In the dark, he managed to find his blue jeans and pull them on without too much difficulty.The crying was still there. And for some reason it sounded familiar. However, he was sure the sobs didn't belong to his daughter Linda. He had nursed her through too many adolescent heartbreaks not to recognize the sound of her crying. Yet somehow he knew the sound of those tears.Tiptoeing to the front of the tent, so as not to disturb Liz,. She could still follow the other instructions. She felt weak in the knees as she walked to the small metal chair in the middle of the room. As the note had said, it was placed directly under a curved silver hook that hung by a chain from an exposed beam in the ceiling. She was trembling as she climbed awkwardly onto the seat of the chair, her cuffed hands making it difficult. But she managed to get onto it and finally stand erect, though almost losing her balance two or three times in the process. Trembling harder now, she very slowly raised her arms, stretching them high over her head. The small chain that linked the cuffs did not quite reach the lip of the hook. Try as she might, she could not get it high enough. With a muffled whimper, she stretched herself up on her toes, straining to the utmost as she tried to pass the chain over the curving metal. She missed, and cried out again as she barely managed to keep herself from falling. She almost collapsed then, but instead she made.
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