The air feels different, charged almost. I can feel little vibrations coming from above me, but I don't hear any noise. My body perks up, excitement and fear raising goosebumps on my skin. What is going on?
As more loud bangs shake the room I'm trapped in, hope flows through my veins. Maybe this is the day I will get out of here. Maybe this is the day that I will be able to resume my previous life.
Then the pesky thoughts come. What was my previous life? What exactly am I going back to? Do I want to go back to that life?
Anything is better than being here.
With my constantly wavering hope, I move in my chair and twist my wrists side to side, anything to get out of these bonds. This may be my only chance to get out of here and I need to make it as easy as possible to get out of here with everyone distracted.
My wrists burn and bleed. I know there will be new scabs to replace the ones that healed some time ago. I know it will all be worth it when I get out of here.
Another loud bang sounds from above me. Are we under attack? Why would anyone attack us? Who would attack us?
The masculine voice in my head says the same phrase I have had to hear over and over again since I have been here. Is this another attempt at trying to remember or is my memory trying to tell me something? I wish I could remember something!
Ruth! Focus! We only have so much time before whatever is happening up there ends.
Deep breath in and out. I have to do this. I will do this. I may have failed and given up hope before, but I know that I will escape today. I feel it in my bones.
I bite down on my lip as pain sears through my whole arm. I should be used to this by now, but no matter what pain my body has endured, everything hurts.
The pain becomes unbearable. I can't keep focusing on freeing my hands. There has to be another way to get out of this chair and then out of this - this - room, hopefully.
Think, Ruth. Think! Your arms are trapped, but the rest of your body, aside from your ankles, isn't. How do you escape?
I know the answer is obvious, but everything is such a blur. It hurts to think. I'm too tired to think about anything.
"Such a pretty flower." The phrase repeats itself in my head over and over again. It won't stop. No matter how much I yell or push my ears against my bony shoulders, it won't stop.
I thrash around in my chair. The old wood shakes violently, creaking with the harsh movements. With one last jerk of my body, the chair tips and falls to the floor. There is a dull cracking sound before pain shoots up my right arm. I may not be in the right state of mind, but I know that it is broken. Now, what do I do?
My arm is clearly broken and in pain unlike any other. My wrists and ankles are still bound to the chair and the chair is … the chair is broken. The chair is broken! Excitement livens my body, all the aches and pain are temporarily relieved. With adrenaline coursing through my body, I place my left palm against the floor and sliding them against the rocky ground. The slab of wood slowly moves up my arm until it is no longer tied to me. Releasing my one hand, I quickly free my right one, careful in my movements, and then my ankles are free.
I- I- Words are indescribable for what I feel right now. I feel such an immense amount of relief, excitement, joy, fear, and- and a million other things mixed together to form a concoction that leaves me dizzy, but with a clearer mind than I ever remember having.
This is the turning point. My turning point. I am free.
The small celebration quickly fades when my ankles give out every time I try to stand, leaving me on the rough floor. I need to stand. Looking around the dark room, I try to find any shadow of something that I can leverage myself on.
The pipe. The memory forms in my mind of when I was first brought here. I was tied to a pipe on the ground. It's not something I can travel with, but I can at least stand up and try to support some of my weight on it until I can support myself.
Like an injured puppy, I crawl on my left hand and knees, my right hand cradled to my chest. The stretch of the small room seems to expand tenfold; the expanse as large as the Sahara Desert.
I'm ready to collapse by the time I make it to the pipe. I don't know how I am supposed to now lift myself and steady myself when all of my energy is depleted.
Cutting out the voice in my head and the tired tremor in my body, I set my left hand against the pipe and slowly put my legs under me. They wobble uncontrollably and I try to wrap my arm around the pipe as much as my arm length will allow. It doesn't fully steady me, but I'm still on my feet.
Knowing that I have no time to waste as the bangs get louder to me, I slowly drag my feet across the floor. I need to make it to the door and try to get out.
What if it's locked? Then what?
Then- then- no. No! I can do this. I know I can do this. I have survived this long, I can make it for another couple of hours.
Pushing everything aside, I solely focus on the shuffle of my feet and the thought that I am weightless. It only takes a minute before I am at the end of the pipe. My feet are still weak, but I need to make it. Another loud crash punctuates my risky thoughts. I'm going to try to make it, but there is still a chance I will fall and then I have to start all over again. I can't continue to crawl on my knees and hand. My arm is too weak for that and there are small indents and blood in my flesh where the rocky ground punctured my skin.
Counting to three, my hand slips from the pipe and I am standing on my own. My movements are unstable similar to a toddler who is learning how to walk. My feet barely leave the ground, toes always dragging.
A final slam, possibly of a door, shakes the walls so severely, it's as if the whole room had a large chill that it had to shake out. My body wavers with the small current and I lose my balance. I brace my body for impact tilting to land back on my right side. I need to preserve any strength that I have left.
Instead of the hard ground, the room fills with a small creak, a deep breath, possibly a gasp, and a quick shuffling of a set of feet before I land on something softer than the floor, but hard enough for a whimper to claw its way out of my throat.
It doesn't register that I finally have human contact that is not centered around pain. Well, it is, but whoever caught me didn't cause the pain. Finally.
Despite my thoughts and the sense of calm that goes throughout my body, my body tenses and I try to squirm away from the pair of arms that I am in. It could be the bad man. He could be tricking me. Was he tricking me this whole time? Was this a test? Is he going to play games with me again?
My mind panics and I whimper and whine as I struggle to get out of the now vice-like arms that are squeezing the life out of me. I need to get out. He could hurt me.
"My pretty flower. What did they do to you? I am so sorry. I am so so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."
The world stops. "Such a pretty flower" invades my mind. I know this voice.
My neck cranes to look up, my eyes immediately shutting from the small amount of light streaming into the room from the open door.
"Su-su-such a… a pretty…" My voice comes out raspy and my words are broken. If he notices, he ignores it. Instead, he opts to finish my broken sentence.
"Such a pretty flower. Yes, you are such a pretty flower. My pretty flower. Let's go home."
I finally found him. Instead of my body going into overdrive as I expected, it shuts down. My eyes flutter shut and my body becomes dead weight. No matter how much I try to fight the darkness, I can't. Even the thought of home can't prevent the impending doom of the darkness.