AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Holding my breath, I’m met with a deafening silence, that I fill instantly with the sound of my labored breathing as I continue to pummel the pipe. I will get free from this if it’s the last thing I do.
I relax for a second, leaning forward to check the pipe and see if I’m able to pull it away from the wall, and when I do, the pipe moves even more than when I was kicking it.
The feeling of success radiates through me, encouraging me on, and making me think I just might get out of here.
I look over at the door, knowing it’s locked from the outside and knowing the window is boarded up, but if I can loosen this pipe, I know I can figure out a way out of here.
I kick at the pipe over and over, getting angrier and angrier as I do, hating that this guy has so much control over me. I have to go to the bathroom and will not piss on the floor or on my clothes. That’s what he wants, and I will get this pipe loose before that happens.
I’m exhausted and starving and thirsty, but again, I won’t give this asshole the satisfaction of eating that beef jerky or drinking anymore of the water he left for me. I drank what I needed and that was all, worried that he could have done something to it. Now I regret drinking it at all.
Rage takes over and I slam my foot into the pipe, grunting hard as I do, listening to the metal scrape and eventually a piece falls loose, hitting the ground with a clutter. Old rancid water spills out, soaking my ankle, but I couldn’t give a shit.
I can’t help the tears that spill from my eyes as the pipe finally hits the ground, sliding the cuff free. Sobbing hard, feeling relieved but not out of the woods yet, I spend a few seconds gathering my thoughts. I have way more ahead of me than just getting free. I’m still stuck here in this desolate, rundown motel room.
Even though I know the toilet doesn’t work, I still go into the small space and use the bathroom, everything done quickly and with purpose because I know at any minute this guy could come back. I don’t need to be in a compromising position when he returns, making it so he can catch me.
He did that once, and I will not let it happen again.
As I turn to flush the toilet out of habit, I notice the ceramic toilet tank cover. It would be the perfect weapon, should I need to use it to escape.
I lift the heavy lid off, holding my breath as the smell of stale, moldy water fills the air. The lid is substantial and for the first time, I’m grateful to be trapped in this old ass motel room. A newer place wouldn’t afford me these types of things. The pipes would have been made of plastic and harder to move since they wouldn’t have rotted. The toilet would have been something new, something not so heavy and possibly made of plastic.
I grab the lid, tossing it on the bed as I make my way over to the window. A puff of dust flies off the old mattress as the ceramic lid hits it, and I remind myself not to lay down on it. I’ve already spent too much time on the floor, wondering what kind of bacteria lives on it. But all of that is the least of my concern.
The curtains remain drawn back from when I opened them earlier, finding the window boarded up. I race over to where the metal pipe lays on the floor, grabbing it, needing it to break the window.
I walk over to the door, again, feeling a constant sense of urgency, I press my ear against it, listening. All I do is listen. Listen for voices, listen for cars, listen for locks, listen for anything that breaks the silence.
There is not a sound, not a sound of a car passing, not a sound of birds or anything. Taking the pipe with me, I move to the window, wondering if I can break the glass and then, somehow, get the wood to move away from the window.
It’s a longshot, and I realize that, but right now, all I have is longshots. The fact that I got myself free, the handcuff still dangling around my wrist, tells me that nothing is impossible.
I haul back, holding the rusty pipe like a baseball bat, it collides with the window, but all it does is bounce off.
It almost makes me laugh out loud. As a kid growing up, I was convinced that windows break easily, being told not to throw a ball in the house and Max being told not to play baseball too close to the windows. Now I know that was a joke. This fucker just won’t break.
I keep swinging the pipe, connecting with the window, and then I’m hit with an idea as it keeps bouncing off of it, like I’m hitting a piece of rubber.
When I started driving, my dad gave me this tool that breaks windows, worried that I would drive into the lake and get trapped in my car. Again, this is something from my childhood that I thought would happen more often. But of course, I’ve never driven into the lake, and I’ve never used that tool. It’s probably still in the glovebox in my car, covered in dust.
But I remember that it has a point on it and that hitting the window with the pointed end, will cause it to break. The end of the pipe is jagged and rusted, so I push it into the window. The glass shatters all around me, falling to the floor in shards that I begin to push away with the side of my boot.
I clear myself a path, not wanting to step on any of the glass, but knowing it’s inevitable, I step toward the window carefully.
Throwing my shoulder against the plywood as hard as I can, but it doesn’t even budge. The pain radiates through my shoulder and down my arm, making me cry out in pain. This is going to be harder than I thought.
I’m sure this piece of wood is screwed into the building and possibly backed with pieces of wood slats to keep people out. I don’t think they ever thought something like this would be keeping someone in. But the guy who kidnapped me did. I’m certain he chose this location on purpose, staking it out and knowing that it has been abandoned for a while. It also has to be secluded. He couldn’t haul my ass in here without someone seeing him if it was one of the old motels near the lake or all the ski areas. It’s off the beaten path.
Hidden.
As my thoughts begin to wander, thinking about exactly where I might be, I look around the room for something to help me. I need something to help move the wood that covers that window. Wouldn’t it be nice if I happened upon a saw or a hammer somewhere in this room? That thought is right up there with all the other longshot thoughts I’ve had. It almost makes me laugh out loud. All of this has my emotions in complete shambles.
I want to lay down and cry. I want to laugh at how utterly ridiculous this whole thing feels. I want to scream out loud and beg for someone to hear me. But I know none of these things will help me escape.
It’s while I’m scouring the room for something to help me get out of the window that I hear it. I hear the engine of a car, the tires rolling over the gravel of the parking lot.
He’s back.
