Shattered #Wattys2016

Chapter 36

Morning rose. The only way I knew was the shaft of light coming from a rigid hole in the ceiling above me. I squinted a bit as my eyes adjusted. My neck was sore from the way I slept, but I finally was strong enough to struggle a little. The ropes were rough on my skin. I looked around, nothing sharp around.

"Damn," I mumbled to myself. Then I remembered the chair. I rocked back and forth, the shakey piece jiggled, until I heard a snap, and soon I toppled over on to my right side. With a grunt, I took a breather, as the fall hurt me a bit, then looked at the broken piece of chair right in the reach of my bound hands. I scooted over to it, and maneuvered the broken, sharp end towards the rope. I sawed at it, for what seemed forever in my mind, until I pulled upwards, feeling my cuffed wrist moving up more freely than before. I shimmied out of the ropes binding my chest and stomach to the back of the chair. I sat up and pulled my wrist to my heels and put them through the gap between my arms. I untied my legs. I stood, noting my surroundings as I walked towards the door. The knob was missing, meaning I was stuck in here until Mr. Paul comes back to torture me. That gives me time to come up with a plan. I sighed as I paced the room, looking over all other possible escape routes I could think of, but the only exit is through that door. I waited, patiently. I heard foot steps approaching, readying the wooden weapon in my hands. The door clicked, and slid open.

"Wakey- wakey detective," he said in a cheery voice. He entered the room, and I struck. I wacked him hard in the back, and darted out the door as quick as my legs could carry me. I ran towards the exit, opening the door, and darting towards the open area. There was grass and trees everywhere, not a car or roadway in sight, but I knew if I kept going straight, I'd run into something sooner or later. I ran, my legs began to burn. I stopped for a moment, thinking I was far enough away. I hid behind a large tree, heaving deep breathes. The air seemed thin, meaning we were at a higher elevation.

"Where are you detective?" I heard his taunting far off, but I knew he could creep up on me at any moment. I ran again, despite the slightly thin air, trying find a road, a weapon, or a person who could help me. I ran, the steep decline made me nearly trip over my own two feet. I rolled over on my shoulder and quickly got back up. I dart around trees, through bushes over trenches and under fallen trees. I had to keep going. My adrenaline was up, my pulse racing. I was almost home free, I ran past a large oak tree, when I felt something tighten on my leg, and next thing I knew, I was upside down, hanging by my right leg. I screamed in anguish as the noose like rope was tight on my ankle. I felt the blood rushing to my head. I used my upper body strength to curl up and try and get at the knot, but it was too complicated and tight. What was this guy, in boy scouts?! I had to relax my muscles, my face was turning red. I struggled against it as much as I could, but I was becoming dizzy and had to stop. I heard the crunching of leaves, and a hefty chuckle.

"Well, well, well. The deer walked into the hunters trap I see," he said as he looked at me, circling me like a buzzard circled roadkill.

"It's too bad. I was hoping to actually get a good chase out of you, better luck next time,"

"Fuck you," I growled. He looked at me, a glare that was cold and icy. He let me hang there a while as he watched. my head was beginning to hurt. He chuckled. I was trying keep myself from passing out. He chuckled and he cut me down, letting me fall hard on the ground floor. He yanked me up by my arms and hair. He dragged me back to that got damn cabin. I struggled against him as hard as I could. Once inside, he pushed me back into the room. I tripped over an uneven piece of floor board that wasn't lying flat.

"You couldn't have gotten any farther? I wanted a good chase,"

"You psychotic bastard," I groaned as I stood and got into a fighting stance. He giggled. He's a psychopath that needed to be stopped. I wasn't about to let any defense attorney plead not guilty by mental disease or defect, not with this bastard.