Part 10
624 Words
TEN
Dark – Chris – Awake – Card – Headache – Stab – Free
The door cracked open, without a clichéd creak. Dim light spilled into the room. Feverishly, I kept digging my nails into the card, trying to find something to cut my bonds. I closed my eyes, trying to visualise the card I held.
"Hey." His voice was barely above a whisper. "Are you awake yet?"
No. I'm busy sleeping, so f**k off, I thought but didn't say.
I found the scissors. Trying not to move too much, I dug the blades into the rope.
"Awake?" he said again. He shone a torch into my face.
I opened my eyes slowly. My head ached horribly and I couldn't see clearly. He loomed like a blurry shadow above me, between me and my escape.
Chris held up his hands, surrendering – just like he had in the car.
I wondered if he knew what I held in my hands.
He shook his head convulsively. "I'm not going to hurt you." He sounded like he was begging, but that made no sense. Begging me to believe him, maybe. "How are you feeling?"
I tried to talk but nothing came out. I sawed furiously at the rope.
He crouched on the floor near me, but not near enough to touch me. "Would you like some Panadol for the headache?" He sounded kind. Perhaps he could see my panic and mistook it for fear.
I remember he waited a moment, like he wanted to say something else, but he seemed to change his mind. He moved from a crouch to his full height, leaving the room as quickly as he'd come.
I felt something snap and kept slicing at that rope, desperately trying to free myself before he returned.
The rope gave, loosening around my wrists. Carefully, I tried to pull my hand out.
Yes!
Feverishly, I untied my legs. I tried to find a knife in the card – something, anything I could threaten Chris with to make him let me go. I pulled it out a tiny bit, so I'd be able to find it again when I needed it, and stuck the card back in my pocket.
My feet tingled as I wiggled my toes, trying to relieve the numbness. Whoever had tied my feet had done a better job than they had with the restraints around my wrists.
Cautiously, I stood up, my toes curling and refusing to cooperate as circulation returned. I tried to take a shuffling step, but the whirling dizziness in my head almost made me fall.
I had to get to the door so I could get out. Hide somewhere so I could get between him and the door when he came in. Shut him in here and run.
I couldn't see, but I continued to drag my feet across the floor until my outstretched fingers touched the wall. I almost cried as I slumped against it.
No. Couldn't cry. No matter how scared, I had to keep it inside if I wanted to escape and live. Couldn't hesitate.
"You can do this. You can do this," I heard Chris's voice murmur from the other side of the door.
You can do what? r**e me? f**k YOU. I pulled the card out of my pocket and extracted the knife.
The door started to open. Chris had his back to it, shouldering his way into the room, carrying something.
He was going to see me as soon as he got the door open far enough. I needed to get the knife to his throat while his hands were full.
I straightened up, trying to ignore the blinding pain in my head, as I threw myself forward, blade out.
I felt it sink in, with a strange ease. Not like cutting up meat. Baked potato, maybe.
Blackness descended.
- Writer
