Playing With Fire (EDITING)

Broken Out

One morning, Kitty nudged me awake with her feet before just kicking me when I wouldn't open my eyes. "Lyrica, wake up! Something's wrong with Kurt."

My eyes snapped open and I met her spooked gaze. "What's different?"

"He's flushed and feverish and mumbling and twitching and his head's bleeding again," she rattled off.

"Infection," Doug summed up. "Open wound, filthy surroundings, it's the most likely possibility."

I nodded in agreement. "We have to get out today. Kurt can't wait for us to bargain for help."

Megan opened her mouth to speak when the door ground open and South gave me the familiar shot of sedative. I went limp and he pulled me from the room. There must have been less in the dosage than usual because I regained my feeling sooner and made a mad attempt at breaking free of the bonds on the autopsy table.

I fought the entire time. Call it a ginger's temper, call it stubbornness, call it stupid; I wouldn't let this happen again. When Brute came to tighten the straps on my arms, I craned my neck around and bit him as hard as I could until I felt the skin break beneath my teeth. When he ripped his arm away, I smirked at the nice wounded inflicted. He growled and pulled the strap on my arm so tight all blood flow began to cease.

When the testing was done, South released me and zip tied me to my pole. I struggled until the zip ties cut into my wrists but I'd achieved my goal- the plastic ties were now loose enough that they could move around the pole. I turned myself around so I faced toward the wall behind me and braced the bottoms of my boots on the wall and my back against the pole.

I was so done with this place. I was getting out and I was getting out now. I used the anger and determination to fuel me with the energy I lacked from not eating for a week. Slowly, I began walking my feet up the wall, pulling my wrists up the pole until I was far enough off the ground to push off the wall with my feet and roll backwards over the pole, freeing my hands in the process.

Giddy with success, I sat and laughed at myself for a little while before taking a deep breath and focusing again. My hands were still behind me and they were still tied. I pulled my hands beneath me and risked dislocating my shoulders to get my hands under my hips and legs. After several minutes of squirming and fighting and writhing on the floor, my hands were in front of me. I grinned.

When Doug wasn't watching, I reached for my knife, carefully slipping it from its sheath and removing it from my torn and filthy shirt. With two quick snips, my hands were free and I was setting to work on Doug and Kitty. Megan had been taken but when she came back, I'd cut her free too.

As they rubbed the blood back into their hands, I told Doug and Kitty the plan. "When Megan's brought back, pretend to be tied. It's about the time when they give us a break so neither of you will be taken right away. When they leave again, I'll cut her free and then we wait for them to come. When they do, we'll be ready. Ambush. Do whatever you can."

They both nodded and we returned to our positions for the time when Megan was brought back. Like planned, no one was taken and I cut Megan free. Doug gave her a run down of the plan as Kitty and I helped Kurt some. There really wasn't anything we could do with the meager supply of water and the dirty rags but we did our best.

When the time came to get the next stage of the plan ready, I stood beside the door, clutching the handle of my knife, heart thumping rapidly in anticipation and nerves. But when the door opened, I was prepared. The thick door ground open just as it had so many times before and I jumped the man that entered.

I aimed for the throat but the man caught my wrist and twisted so the blade fell from my fingers. I kneed the man in the stomach and landed two powerful blows to the ribs before the man grabbed me and pushed me back. When I caught sight of his face, I gasped.