Page 63 of Unmasked Anarchy
Vomit rises in my throat.
But I stay calm.
He forces me into the chair and ties my ankles again, before putting another rope around my hips and tying it at the side.He’s shoddy, and his effort is pathetic.He checks the ropes are secure, before standing back.“Don’t bother trying to get the chair to move, it’s bolted to the back wall.”
I glance down and see it is fixed to a plate that has a chain running to the back wall.
I guess they thought of everything.
Except the fact that their guy is so stupid he didn’t see me pick up a shard of glass.
I squeeze my hand tighter.My only escape curled in my palm.
“Don’t try anything,” he mutters.“We got men at every exit.You can’t escape.Don’t worry though, it won’t be long.You have two hours before that thing blows.”
His words hit me hard.
Two hours.
I only have two hours to get out, save the clubs and try and stop all of this from happening.
That seems like an impossible task.
Especially when they have eyes on the place.They will see me exit and probably kill me on the spot.
Still, I have to try.
The plan is coming together, but I am the only one who can stop it.
I have to stop it.
Otherwise, it is the end...for all of us.
The man checks my ankles and waist one more time, before turning and leaving the barn.A truck starts up, and then I am left in complete silence.I don’t think the cartel would have cameras on me, they want no risk of it coming back on them, so I can only hope I have the next two hours free to get myself out of this.
I start working on the top.Slowly, carefully.If I rush, I could drop this glass and everything would end.Every time a fiber frays and pops, the rope shifts, making it trickier, but I don’t stop.I keep at it, every grind of glass carving into my flesh.My blood drips onto the floor, but it isn’t enough to stop me.I clench my jaw, my heart racing, and keep going.
I twist my hands in a way that is so painful, I’m certain my wrist is about to snap, but I push myself to my absolute limits.I cut and cut, feeling like I’m getting nowhere, but after what feels like an eternity, there is give.A small amount.I grind again.Another pop.I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth to keep from sobbing as the rope finally slacks, just a little.
I have to stop, hang my head, take a few steadying breaths to calm myself.My vision goes splotchy, black creeping at the edges.I breathe through it.I can’t lose it now.Not now.I get back to it.On the next twist, the glass cuts through the last fibers.My wrists yank apart.I nearly shriek when they do.I hunch over, wild with pain, tears burning from the corners of my eyes.I let them fall, let myself taste every ruined, terrifying second.
The barn is silent except for the occasional bird chirping outside.I flex my hands, one at a time.The left’s dead, but the right has movement.I shift the glass to that hand, and I keep working.I cut the rope around my waist, then ankles, and when I stand free, my heart swells.
I got out.
Now, I just have to stop this.
How, I don’t know.
But I will.
Oh, I will.
