He pushed himself off the wall and approached the crates. He placed his hands on one, testing its weight. It was heavy, but not impossible to move. He rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath.
As the room grew quieter, with most of the insects gone, Arin sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. He stared at the tiny barred window again, his mind working overtime.
The forms for the TSA exam will be out in two days, he thought, his jaw tightening. I have to get one. No matter what it takes. If I miss this opportunity, it's over.
Turning his attention to the heavy crates and furniture scattered around the room, he decided it was time to clear more space. "I can't do anything with all this junk here," he muttered under his breath. His voice echoed faintly in the confined space, sounding louder than he intended. He froze for a moment, ears straining for any sound from outside the room.
Nothing.
Satisfied that he hadn't drawn any attention, he moved to the first crate. His hands wrapped around the rough edges, and he gritted his teeth as he pulled. The wood groaned under the strain, letting out a low, creeeak that sent a shiver down his spine.
Keep it quiet, Arin. The last thing you need is someone barging in here, he thought.
After several minutes of dragging and shoving, sweat began to bead on his forehead, dripping down the side of his face. His arms ached, but he welcomed the burn. This is good practice, he told himself. If I can't handle moving a few crates, how am I supposed to build the strength I need for the TSA exam?
As he worked, his thoughts drifted. Five months isn't a lot of time. I'll need to be smart about this. Physical training, mental prep, and somehow getting my hands on that entrance form… His brow furrowed.
He moved to the next object: an old, bulky chair with a broken leg. The wood was splintered, and as he grabbed it, a sharp snap echoed when a piece broke off in his hand. "Great," he muttered sarcastically, tossing the broken piece aside.
As the space began to open up, Arin's eyes landed on something in the far corner of the room. It was a large, flat piece of wood—easily three times the size of a door. Its surface was uneven, with deep scratches and dents, as if it had been through years of wear and tear.
He approached it slowly, his footsteps soft against the floor. The closer he got, the more imposing the wood seemed. It loomed over him like a silent challenge. He reached out, his fingers brushing against its rough surface.
This thing is massive, he thought, running his hand along its edge. Why is it even here?
He crouched down and tried lifting it. The moment he tugged, he felt its immense weight resisting him. His muscles strained, and a low grunt escaped his lips. "Ugh, you've got to be kidding me," he whispered, letting go and standing back up.
Determined, he placed both hands flat against the wood and pushed with all his might. The wood let out a deep, groaning creak, as if protesting against his efforts. His feet slid slightly on the floor as he leaned into it, his breath coming out in short, sharp puffs.
"Come on, move!" he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper.
The sound of his breathing filled the room, heavy and labored. Every few seconds, he paused to catch his breath, his chest heaving. The wood scraped against the floor with a grating shhhhkkkk sound that sent a jolt of anxiety through him.
Don't make too much noise. Don't make too much noise. The mantra repeated in his head like a drumbeat.
After what felt like an eternity—though it was only ten minutes—Arin gave one final, desperate shove. The wood slid into place with a loud thud that echoed through the room. He froze, his heart pounding in his chest as he strained to hear any sign of movement outside.
Silence.
He exhaled in relief, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Turning back to where the wood had been, his breath caught in his throat.
A hole.
It was hidden behind the massive plank, its edges jagged but just wide enough for a person to crawl through. Moonlight filtered in from the other side, casting a faint glow on the ground below. Arin stepped closer, peering into the opening.
The hole led directly to the back gate of the house.
He blinked, stunned by his discovery. "No way…" he whispered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. This is it. My way out.
His mind raced with possibilities. This could be my perfect escape route when I need to train. No one will suspect it's here.
But his excitement was short-lived. He frowned, turning back to the massive wood plank he had moved. I can't use that to block the hole when I'm outside. It's way too heavy to move every time. If I leave it uncovered, someone might find it.
He scanned the room, his eyes darting over the remaining furniture. His gaze landed on a small cupboard, roughly the size of the hole. It was old and rickety, but it looked like it would fit perfectly.
"Perfect," he murmured to himself, a spark of satisfaction lighting up his face.
Moving quickly, he pushed the cupboard across the floor, its legs scraping with a harsh scree-scree sound. He winced but pressed on, his focus unwavering.
Once the cupboard was in place, he crouched by the hole, taking one last look outside. The cool night air drifted in, brushing against his face like a promise of freedom.
He nodded to himself. "This will work. It has to."
Standing up, he wiped his hands on his pants and surveyed the room. His eyes lingered on the remaining clutter, and his lips pressed into a thin line.