Trapped

Free! She was free! I could only stare at her, wide-eyed. Were my eyes playing a trick on me? Was he playing a trick on me? Are there hidden cameras in this room—documenting every move she and I made?

Allison, with hands freed, arose from her shock to begin untying her legs. My voice finally came to me, and I whispered, “What the fuck are you going to do if he comes in? You’ll get both of us killed!” My words to her were harsh, but secretly, I wished she would only hurry to untie me also. She continued her work with fumbling hands. She dropped the thick, frayed ropes to the hard ground. As if she read my mind, she took her chair and propped it underneath the knob of the door, granting us more time to figure out what the hell we were going to do.

Allison, eyes watery, bloodshot, and determined, advanced on me, started to untie my hands. My painful grunt reminded her to be careful with my left hand. Two short ropes fell soundlessly to the floor. Allison went to my feet; I watched her progress. Another two ropes, defeated, fell to the ground too. I hopped up, first hugging Allison shortly, then going over to the window at the back of the room.

The sight of the small window reminded me of that June day, the last day of school, the bathroom where my life figuratively ended. I still wondered how he had smuggled me out of that grimy bathroom. I peered out of the window like an eager child waiting for something good to come. I was a child searching for freedom. I tried to take in the surroundings, but the only thing to be seen was a tall fence. The planks were nailed close together, allowing no peeping eyes to invade the sight of a drab prison building surrounded by patches of wilted, brown grass. The boards were painted a peculiar shade of cream. I noticed only one flaw in the fence. Two of the cream-colored planks were snapped in half through the middle, taped back together with metallic silver duct tape, as if someone had tried to break in. Or break out. I tried to find a handle or lever to somehow open the window.

Nothing.

Right when I was about to give up hope, with panic bubbling up inside of me, Allison quietly called my name. I looked to my left, finding Allison doubled over, hovering on a small hole in the wall near the dark tile floor. She beckoned me over, and I kneeled next to her, lining up my eye to the hole that was more narrow than a pencil, which I believe was haphazardly drilled or hollowed out for God knows what reason. All I knew was that it availed Allison and me. On the other side, I saw a near replica of the room I was standing in, but instead of wooden chairs adorning the room, there was a ladder on the far wall, possibly leading to an attic of some sort.

I let out a breath I never knew I was holding and looked Allison in the face. Then, I noticed that she had a beautiful face, only washed away with sadness, dark, and gloom. There was a speck of hope gleaming in her eyes though. We both knew this could be our way out. Suddenly, I felt trust in her—faith. If we were to make it out, somehow, someday, I knew we’d be running hand in hand.

“How do we get to that room though? There’re nearly a dozen locks on that door.” Her eyes flickered to the barricaded door. I bit on my bottom lip, hard, cracking the chapped skin and drawing blood. The taste was warm and coppery. I spat it onto the tiled flooring near the wall. My attention was drawn to an abnormal lump in the wall. I just then noticed this was the only wall in the room plastered and painted. Something had been plastered over on that spot. I knew it. I felt around the foot-by-foot long protrusion. We can easily break through this.

Taking into consideration my lame hand, I told Allison my directions. I knew time was ticking.

“Allison, listen to me. See that plastered lump on the wall? I think that can lead to the other room. I need you to take my chair and break that part open. We’ll have to take our chances, hoping that we can crawl through to the other room. ‘Cause I think they plastered over some kind of entryway or vent-like thing. But we have to be quick. Once we hit that wall, no turning back. You need to work quickly. We’ll only have a few minutes before someone comes and breaks down the door,” I paused. “I trust you.” The corners of her mouth curled ever so slightly into a flattered smile. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Confidence gleamed off of her dreary face, solely depressed by our captivity in this death chamber.

“We’re going to get out of her, Allison,” I assured her. “Alive.”