Hold me close and we'll just leave it all behind

Just you lying close

"OPEN THE DOOR!" banging the door, Pete screamt the futile words for the nth time in the past 72 hours. His pitiful screams along with colliding fists were paid no heed. Macau's world had shrunk to the dim confines of their small, cold cell, the past 48 hours blending into an endless haze of fear and confusion. The clinking of chains, the creak of the door, and the occasional gruff voice of the guard were the only constants in this fractured reality. He felt trapped not just physically but mentally, the weight of his own helplessness pressing down on him.

Yet, amid the terror, Macau found solace in Pete's unwavering presence, his presence was a source of hope in the darkness, keeping him grounded and determined to hold on. Furthermore, he trusted his hia would come soon to rescue them.

The two were heading towards a library, when all of a sudden henchmen had surrounded them. Pete managed to take down three of them but he was out numbered as they managed to push in Macau, soon followed by Pete who was hit with an iron rod from the back on his head.

Their hands were initially bound with rough rope, and their clothes were stained from the grime of their confinement. The only regularity in their harrowing ordeal was the guard who came twice a day to slide a meager meal through a narrow slot in the door. It was the same guard who freed them from chains for their first meal and since then left them unchained.

Each time the guard arrived, Pete's anxiety grew, always accompanied by the hope that this might be their chance to escape. He had spent every waking moment assessing their situation, analyzing the guard's routine, and waiting for the right opportunity to act.

On the second day, Pete noticed something crucial: the guard, while vigilant, was slightly careless with the way he handled the door latch. He had observed that the guard was often distracted, especially when securing the latch after delivering the food. Pete knew this could be their chance.

When the guard's footsteps echoed in the corridor that afternoon, Pete's heart raced. He glanced at Macau, who looked back with a mix of fear and trust. Pete gave him a reassuring nod, knowing that this moment was their best chance.

As the guard approached, Pete tensed, ready for action. The guard slid the tray of food through the slot, his focus momentarily on the task at hand. Pete seized the opportunity. He used his hands to maneuver a loose bolt from a nearby pipe, a makeshift weapon he had been saving for this precise moment.

As the guard started to turn away, Pete used all his strength to push against the door, wedging the bolt into the small gap between the door and the frame. The door swung open slightly, catching the guard off guard. The guard stumbled, surprised by the sudden movement.

Pete didn't waste a second. He pushed the door open with force, sending the guard reeling into the wall. The guard dropped the food and reached for his sidearm, but Pete was quicker. With a burst of adrenaline, Pete charged at the guard, using the bolt to strike the guard's arm and knock the weapon away. He picked up the gun, seizing it inside his shirt.

Macau, watching in a mix of terror and awe, quickly grabbed a chain from the corner of the room and wrapped it around the guard's legs. Pete wrestled with the guard, his movements fueled by desperation and determination. He managed to subdue the guard long enough for Macau to secure him with the chain.

As Macau turned towards Pete, the guard tried to dart a pocket knife towards them. Without hesitation, Pete pulled the gun out, shooting a bullet at his hands, adrenaline guiding him.

Breathing heavily, Pete quickly rifled through the guard's pockets and found a set of keys. His hands trembled as he tried each key in the lock of the room where their cell was. The tension in the air was palpable, but Pete's focus never wavered. Finally, the lock clicked open, and the door swung wide.