Page 72 of Psycho

Which was difficult with a dislocated joint in my hand below my thumb that gave way to allow my hand free, but not impossible. I glanced at the closed door as I struggled to unbuckle the cuff and slide my right hand out. At least I had one fully working hand finally, and the second it was free, I ripped the IV out of my arm, staunching the flow of the medicine they were pumping into me to make my body contract and force my baby out before she was due.

Swinging my legs off the side of the bed, I slid down to the floor, noticing I was on a hospital bed and not the one from before at all, and I was also in a hospital gown instead of my regular clothes. Jesus fuck, I felt like a test subject at some research lab, just free to be poked, prodded and cut to pieces in the name of fun.

There were two rolling carts on the opposite side of the room covered with sterile sheets, but I prayed for what I would find under them as I rushed over.

Tools.

I ripped the sheets from the carts, the scent of antiseptic sharp in the air, revealing an array of gleaming surgical tools—scissors,clamps, needles—a stark collection spread before me, each with a different purpose, but I searched for only one specific instrument.

That’s when I finally found my tool of choice. The scalpel.

A chill ran up my arm as I gripped the cold, hard steel, the metal smooth against my skin; I would survive, no matter what the cost.

No fucking questions asked.

There wasn’t a person in the building that I’d think twice about killing if it meant I made it out alive with my baby.

My stomach clenched, a visceral warning of the contraction to come. The pain intensified, a searing agony that made me bite my lip until it bled, stifling the scream building in my throat. I leaned on the cart for support as I covered my mouth to stay quiet. I was terrified and alone, and my entire body shook with each contraction.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I was supposed to be at the hospital with Maddox. He was going to hold my hand and rub my back as Peyton chatted nervously as I labored my baby into the world.

I needed Maddox!

I sank to my knees as the contraction finally loosened its hold on my body and I wept, grieving what I thought the experience would look like while simultaneously trying to plan how to get out of it alive.

I had no idea what waited on the other side of the door, but I knew if I stayed put, I’d be in more trouble than I already was.

Grabbing a second scalpel off the other tray, I wrapped some gauze around the handles of both, securing them with what I figured was stitching string to make a makeshift shank.

Apparently binge-watching shows likePrison BreakandOrange is The New Blackbenefited me after all, I couldn’t wait to rub it in Peyton’s face someday.

With a scalpel in each hand, though my left hand was mildly useless to wield it, I slowly and as silently as I could, turned the handle on the door, praying to any divine nature out there, to help me escape this death sentence.

When the door was open an inch, I peeked out into the hallway, finding it empty but unfamiliar. I had no idea where I was.

Even if I managed to escape the physical building itself, it was February, and I was in nothing but a hospital gown.

They even took my shoes.

It didn’t matter, though. My options were non-existent, I had to try.

As soon as I cleared the doorway, I closed it behind me, hoping maybe it’d buy me some time before they realized I was missing. A girl could hope.

I tiptoed down the hall, passing other closed doors and turning corners, trying to find an exit, but it seemed every opening had a closed door in it, and I had no fucking clue what was on the other side of any of them.

Panic burned up my spine as another contraction started, I had nowhere to hide, but I couldn’t have another contraction in the hallway if I had a prayer of staying hidden.

Sending another silent plea to any force of nature out there, I picked the closest door and turned the handle, pushing it open quickly and sliding inside as my knees buckled, taking me to the floor.

The room was dark, but there was a window on the far side of the room, and a glow from the city outside lit up the room enough for me to see that it was empty.

I crawled across the floor to the window through the contraction and pulled myself up to see through the dirty glass.

I was at least four stories high, and there wasn’t a fire escape to be found. Not that I would chance one in my condition. But that meant I had to go back to the hallway to find an exit.

I silently sobbed in defeat as I tried to muster up the energy and bravery to go back out there, knowing before long I was going to meet someone that expected me to still be tied up in my room.

Right before I turned around, something caught my eye from below the window on the ground.

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