Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
It’s going to get freezing, very fast.
Well played, biker.
Well played.
I think quickly, the only way I’ve ever been taught. I assess the situation and try to figure out what options I have. First and foremost, I need to cover the window to try and keep as much of that cold air out. There are two towels in the pokey bathroom, so I decide to use one of them to hang up. It isn’t easy, and I have to manipulate and tie it until it hangs on, just barely. I don’t know if it’ll hold up with a good strong wind, but it’s worth a shot.
Then, I take in the situation around me.
I don’t have a phone, or any way to communicate with the outside world.
I open the few cupboards in the small kitchenette and find only basic utensils, nothing sharp or dangerous. The bed is made up with a couple of warm blankets, but I’m not certain they’ll protect me entirely from the cool nights that will quickly approach. A small fridge sits on the countertop and in it, there is some fruit, a few sandwiches and bottles of water. That’s it. I have no idea how long that food is meant to last, or how regularly he will come back.
I move into the bathroom, which is very basic. A toilet that definitely is some kind of recyclable horror show, and a small sink. No shower in sight. Which means I have to wash myself with the trickle of water that comes out of the tap when I reach forward and turn it on. Wonderful, this is just perfect. He is going to make sure I go crazy here, cave and give him what he wants.
That leaves me with only one option ...
I have to take him out.
GRUNTING, I JERK AT one of the bed legs. It took a lot of searching, but I finally discovered that the frame of the bed is screwed together, the legs most importantly. Which means if I can get one of them off, I can use it to hit him over the head when he returns. The problem is, I don’t have any tools, so it takes a lot to get it loose. Sweating, even in the increasing cold, I curse and swear as I shake the leg with all my might. It finally snaps off, sending me flying backward into the kitchen.
With a frustrated cry, I rub the back of my head and push to my feet. My fingers are tender and sore, my palms hurt, and my body aches. I’m exhausted, but I’m not going to rest until I know I have a way out of this mess. Once the leg is firmly in my hand, I smile triumphantly. My sleeping will not be grand now that the bed has only three legs, but I’ll just have to cope. Hopefully, I won’t be here long enough to worry about it.
Judging by the sun setting outside, he isn’t coming back tonight.
I have no option but to eat, sleep, and prepare myself for his return. I place the leg on the counter and then walk into the bathroom. Using the remaining towel, I wet just the end and wipe my face and hands. I dry them and then hang the towel back up. I take a bottle of water and a sandwich from the fridge and sit on the incredibly uncomfortable sofa and eat. The sandwich is slightly soggy, but I’m not complaining. Some food is better than none. His threats of hunger can’t be ignored, though, and I know I have to try and make it last.
I finish the bottle of water and go searching for a light as it becomes darker outside. It’s only then I realize there are no lights in here. He has the fridge connected to something, but he has made sure the lights are nonexistent. I’ll give it to him, that’s incredibly smart and well thought out. He is really trying to send me over the edge. Exhaling, I zip up my coat and then climb into the rickety bed. I lay up at the other end, so the one that sags is where my feet sit.
It's not the best, but I’m still exhausted from whatever drugs he pumped me full of, so I quickly drift off into a restless sleep. That sleep, however, doesn’t last long. Night falls and the cold creeps in, even with my best attempt at covering the windows. Shivering, I can’t seem to escape it. The bed is positioned right below the small opening. I can’t see a thing, but I decide to drag the mattress off and pull it as close to the bathroom as I can.
It takes a great deal of effort, and it barely fits in the tiny walkway, but I stomp it down with my feet and then climb back in. It’s a little better down here, but I quickly realize that I’m going to freeze in no time. Angrily, I get up and resort to the last thing I can. Using the mattress as a shelter. Taking the uncomfortable plasticky cushions off the seating area chairs, I throw them on the floor, putting my pillow and blanket on top. Then, I climb onto them and wrestle the mattress, so it balances above me.