Fighting My Way Out

Plan of Attack

Once, a few years ago, I was watching a movie where the main character was handcuffed like I was, and the only way he was able to escape them was by breaking his thumb and wiggling his hand free. I didn't know if that would work, it was in a movie after all, but I had to at least give it a try. But before I went to the extreme of breaking my own bone on my dominant hand, I looked around the room trying to figure out if there was some way of escaping the house. The door to the basement was locked, there was no way I was escaping through there on my own. The only other possible exit was through the cellar door that lead directly outside, but that was most likely locked as well.

That left me to overwhelm my captor when they came down to deliver my food; at least they were consistent with giving me food three times a day, like a proper prison would. It was usually just one of them, and if I could somehow knock my captor out I had a chance at making it out onto the main floor of the house. There I could bolt to the front door and run like my life depended on it. Where, I didn't know; all I knew was that it would be as far away from that house of horrors as I could get.

Making my resolve, I found something hard to bite down on; if I made any kind of noise, the Wrights would investigate. I placed my left hand knuckles on the ground with my thumb outstretched, pausing after putting some weight on it. I knew that was going to hurt more than I could imagine, but if I didn't at least try I would be sold off to do unspeakable things in service to those people. That thought alone fueled me with enough fear and anger as I needed to pull off the stunt I was about to commit.

Closing my eyes in preparation, I used my hip and its full weight to come crashing down upon my delicate thumb. With a muffled cry, I felt and heard it crack and pop followed by an almost numbing pain spreading up my wrist and arm. My whole body seemed to shake as the adrenaline rush wore down and I picked up my broken hand from the floor. My thumb was a strange purple-ish color, as was my wrist, and was immobile to movement without pain; I had successfully broken my own hand, much to my surprise. With the solid object still firmly in my mouth, I slowly worked the metal ring down my hand, quickly encountering my thumb. My eyes squeezed shut as they filled up with tears as I tugged the ring down over my hand.

The object in my mouth dropped as I practically gasped for air as the handcuff fell to the ground with a soft clank free from my hand. I took a brief moment to relish in my small success, momentarily forgetting about my broken hand or the fact I was still technically trapped.

It didn't take long to realize I must wait until one of them came down to deliver food. I didn't know how long that would be so I got to work finding something that would serve as a weapon to knock them out. I had never knocked out anyone before, or even showed the slightest bit of aggression, but desperate times. Those people were not going to be merciful to me, the least I could do was respond in kind; it was only polite.

Now that I was free to really move about the room, I found a good sized brick that would do what I wanted it to do. Holding it in my hands, testing its weight, I knew I couldn't hesitate when it came time to hit someone, especially with my non-dominant right hand, it would take every bit of strength and adrenaline I had to act quickly and efficiently.

I went back to the chained side of the wall, hiding the brick behind my back to wait for the opportune moment to strike. I also positioned my hand and the cuff to appear as though I was still bound. And then I waited.