Fuck.
I shift again, reflex more than hope, but something shifts with me. A twitch. A give.
Barely noticeable.
The knot at my right wrist is damp.
Sweat. Blood. Heat.
Maybe all three.
But it’s softened.
I flex again, slowly. Carefully.
“My stance hasn’t changed,” I say, partly to mask any sound my wrist might make, partly to give the impression that nothing here is different. I’m still the same guy with the same conviction. So much so that he doesn’t even bother looking over his shoulder. He keeps talking.
“Alright,” he says. “Like I said, I enjoy your company.”
“Wish I could say the same,” I reply.
My fingers curl again, twisting just enough to feel the burn of raw skin shifting over frayed rope.
“I think you do, too,” he says, still facing the screens. “You just don’t want to admit it. Unlike my guests, you understand how much thought goes into what I do. You hate it, sure, but deep down, you get it.”
My stomach curdles, but I don't respond. Not this time.
Twist. Slide. Bite back the noise.
Do I appreciate his work? I don’t know.
I think I did before. Now it’s a different story.
But none of that matters. Not if I get a chance to fight. I’ll save Sabine, no matter what it costs. Then I can think about the monster in me. When it’s over.
Another tug. Sweat runs down my spine. I feel it, the loop loosening. Threads pulling apart. I don’t look down. I don’t dare.
“I even thought,” he says, voice soft and musing, “about giving her peace of mind. Letting you both go together. So she wouldn’t be terrified in those last moments. For your sake.” He chuckles. “But I’m not that generous. I like you. Who knows? Maybe you’ll come to see the pleasure in this. Join me, once the dust settles.”
Join him?
I can’t speak.
He turns slightly, just enough for me to see the edge of his smile, lazy, tired, satisfied. His madness has taken him somewhere dreamy. He thinks he’s already there.
I take the risk.
I twist my wrist hard. Something scrapes—skin, rope, air—and then slips. I bite my lip until I taste blood, but my right hand is free. Numb. Shaking. Maybe useless. But free.
He doesn’t notice.
Not for the next two hours.
But by the time he does, it’s too late.
For either of us.
The pain makes me dizzy for at least fifteen minutes. All I can do is bite the inside of my cheek, keep the blood flowing into my mouth, and taste metal just to stay still, awake, and alert.
