Six(19)

Stuck alone again in a room in the middle of nowhere.

Unlike the last time, I had freedom and the possibility of escape. That small speck of hope had me sitting straight up and taking a much closer look at my restraints.

First, I inspected the cuff around my ankle and the wire it was attached to. There was no getting it off with my bare hands, and the key was still in his pocket or hidden away by then. My gaze bounced around the room in search of the duffle bags which held the tools he’d used to put my leash together.

I stood and took a few steps around the bed, then stopped. My right leg pulled at the wire creating a wide V, but that was the end. The bags sat against the far wall, next to the door, and out of my reach by a good six feet or more. He was far too acute to leave me near anything to aid in my escape.

My own Machiavellian mind moved outside the box for a MacGyver solution.

One end was secure around the basin of the toilet, which was actually very well installed and unmovable, even if I was able to get the loop of wire around the basin. Of course. He’d even gone as far as putting a stopper of some sort so that there was no slack in the loop.

The other end was not simply tied around one leg of the bed as I thought. No, that would have been a struggle, but a simple lift of the bed. He knotted it around each leg.

He was a busy boy while I was in the shower the day before.

Sitting down on the floor, I pulled at the wire in an attempt to get the bed to move, but it wouldn’t budge.

Lying down on the bed, I peered over the opposite edge and groaned.

Not only had he knotted it up, he had screwed it into the floor with a pretty hefty-looking bracket. Which explained the sound I’d heard.

“Fuck.”

I flopped onto my back and stared up at the ceiling in momentary defeat.

Lead wire was out.

Cuff attached to ankle? There was a small possibility I could get it unlocked if I could find something, like a bobby pin.

That is, if bobby pins actually worked and weren’t a Hollywood fabrication.

I sat up and inspected the lock. It was tiny and possibly took a key that wasn’t very intricate, kind of like a suitcase key. Through the large O-ring was the wire, clamped in a loop by a C like piece of metal. If there were some way to open that up, I could get the wire out and be free.

The hunt for an unconventional tool began.

On the nightstand there was nothing of use—a lamp and the standard bible in the drawer that used to be all the rage. No loose screws on anything I could reach. Not even the knob would come off the drawer.

In the bathroom there were the few toiletries, but otherwise just the sink, mirror, toilet, and shower. Still, I scoured every inch. There had to be something to help me. The sparsity of the room drove me crazy.

I stood and stared at my reflection, still stunned by the brunette woman who looked back. Something flew by the window and reflected in the mirror, drawing my eye. That was when I saw it—a nail.

The round head only stood about a quarter of an inch off the wood trim it was hammered into, but it was enough to grab on to. Sharp edges dug into my skin as I tightened my fingers around it, then they slipped off, scraping against my skin.

I hissed and brought my finger up to my mouth, trying to suck the pain away. Like that was going to work.

Picking up a towel sitting on the sink, I wrapped it around the nail head and grabbed on. It took a lot of wiggling, jiggling, and cursing, but after a few minutes it released and slid right out.

“Yes!”

Moving back to the bed, I sat down and arranged the cuff to get better access to the clamp. There wasn’t much of a gap to work with, the pointed tip barely able to slip in. A little bit of leverage and a lot of force sent my hand flying and made the cuff twist.

“Shit.”

I moved the cuff back around and held it tight while I attempted to pry the thick fastener open. Each jab and twist usually ended in a swift loss of grip and the nail to slip. With nothing else to do, all of my attention was on the task of getting it open.

The small gap becoming even minutely larger kept me going, kept me from giving up and finding something else. Because without that movement, that small sliver of hope, there wasn’t much else but giving up. And I wasn’t about to give up.

I was going to live. For as long as I could, I wasn’t going to stop living.

Another sliver of hope was housekeeping. They had to come around at some point, right? That was if this place had any sort of maid service. It was probably the one person who manned the front desk, but even just coming to check if we needed towels would help.

Six probably told them we didn’t want to be disturbed.

Hope that one of the staff would come by was small, as small as my traction with the nail, but still there as a possibility.

After some time digging, I tried to get one of the wires through. There was still a ways to go as the gap was only half the width of the cable.

A little bit wider. Just a little more, I chanted to myself.

The sound of a car on gravel made me freeze. All movement, even breath stopped as I listened. When a car door slammed, my heart began racing as I frantically searched for a place to hide my tool. The nearest place was the nightstand, so I tossed it in the drawer before positioning myself on the bed.

I looked at the clock to see how long he was gone, and was stunned. Had four hours really passed since he left?

Six entered a split second later, locking the door behind him, then threw a bag next to me on the bed and motioned for me to open it. Inside, I found some new panties, women’s T-shirts, and even a pair of jeans and flats. He’d done something with my old clothes, with the exception of my bra.