Lisa
We pull up to a small house with a side garage. The yard is cluttered with debris: a tire, two rims, a jack, some wood. The house itself is in dire need of a paint job and the shrubbery around the porch looks unkempt and abandoned. Weeds are taking over the uncut grass.
The front door stands wide open, but we don't make it that far. As soon as Hae-in - who still has not spoken another word - slams the back door closed behind me, a deep voice booms from the garage and calls to us.
"Back here, guys!"
We silently make our way to the garage. A huge man - even larger than Hae-in - stands to greet us, extending a dirty, greasy hand to Hae-in. I can't shake for obvious reasons, and for one fleeting moment I'm actually thankful.
He smiles boisterously when he sees me, his resemblance to Hae-in uncanny.
"Well, well," he says, highly amused. "Got you a firecracker of a woman, I see!"
I'm in no mood to joke, so I simply offer a forced smile in return.
"I'm Ho-jin," he goes on, unabashed by my sour mood. "Here, you can set that over here." He points to a large table housing an electric saw. "We'll get you out of these in no time."
"Thanks, Uncle Ho-jin," Hae-in says, and if I didn't know him, I'd think all the strain from our argument was gone from his voice. But it's there in trace amounts, and his tight-lipped smile doesn't fool me for a second. "Try not to cut him up too bad."
He gives me one last icy look before slipping inside the house, leaving me alone with his uncle.
Ho-jin walks over to the saw and turns it on, flipping the power a few times so that it revs like a chainsaw. I believe he's doing this for comedic effect, but I fail to see the humour. In fact, I fear for my life a little bit, especially as the one person who usually likes me just left me alone with this madman, undeterred by whether I live or die.
"Don't pass out on me, now," Ho-jin says, probably noticing how I'm beginning to pale. "It's not that bad. I saw right into the thick part where the lock is and the whole thing pops off. It's simple, really. And I have a smaller saw, don't worry. I was just messing with you a little bit."
Just messing with me. Right. "That's great," I say, my voice tight. "And thanks for doing this."
He whips out the small saw, which is still too big for my comfort. "All right, now put your wrists down right here," he instructs. "And try not to move. I won't cut you, but if you suddenly start flailing around like a bat I may not be able to avoid it. Oh, and put these on."
He hands me a pair of goggles which I quickly slip on my nose. I hold my wrists against the headboard as instructed, closing my eyes and trying hard not to flinch as the saw grinds against the metal.
