Lisbeth limped along the side of the road, clenching her bruised and bloody body with her hands. Two weeks she had been missing, and two weeks she had spent believing she would never see her family again; her beautiful mother, her amazing little brother, the uncle she looked up to more than anything, and the freaks that felt more like home than anything. Her clothes were torn and covered in dirt, and her shoes were long gone; small pale feet stumbling to the ground. She felt weak to the bone, and every inch of her was throbbing. The worst part of all was the poor little witch couldn’t even call out for help, her throat as dry as sand.