Unspoken

Chapter 23 - Dirty Grout

       Off woke up with his hands suspended above him, pain arcing through his joints, sharp and electric. He blinked, looking up. He was in a dirty, unfamiliar bathroom, mildew growing on the walls and mild and grime in the grout between the cracked tile.
He was chained to a towel rack with zip ties around his wrists, his ankles also zip tied together. There was a single flickering light above the dirty sink, flashing intermittently. Off struggled to move his hands, getting his slowly numbing fingers to clutch the towel bar and pull himself up so his shoulder joints weren't being pulled.
Fuck me. He thought to himself, listening for any noise outside the closed bathroom door. There wasn't anything he could hear, so he pulled his legs up to put his knees under his chin, pulling himself up afterward so he was sitting on his knees.
Calming his heart for a moment, he closed his eyes.
All he could see was Gun's face in his minds eye, and all he could keep in his thoughts was the knowledge that he needed to get back to him no matter what. He ran his hand down the length of the towel bar, feeling the end of it. There were four screws holding each end into the wall, but he imagined that they weren't held into the wall by the best construction, judging by the state of the bathroom.
I need to rip the bar out of the wall. He thought to himself, steeling himself for it. He needed to be quick but also quiet not to alert any of his captors who might be outside. He wasn't sure why they didn't just kill him, or why they'd left him alone. He wasn't going to think too deeply about it, as he needed to escape first, and then find Gun and protect him.
Gripping the fingers he could move around the bar he leaned back against the wall, taking a deep breath in before jerking as hard as he could against the metal bar.
He was immediately pulled backwards painfully, the towel bar not prying itself out of the wall. However the bar now tilted slightly, one of the screws pulled slightly out from the tile. His arms felt like someone had set them on fire, but he gritted his teeth, braced his feet against the wall and continued trying to rip it out of the wall.

Gun watched the small ambulance van carrying uncle away, Auntie riding with him. A police officer was standing next to him, one hand on his shoulder.
"We'll need you to come down and make a statement." The cop said. "Is that okay son?"
"Yes. When will we find out whether Off is okay?" He asked in a quiet voice, twisting his fingers together with anxiety.
"They'll have more information down at the station. Let's go." The cop, a middle aged portly man who was balding slightly gestured toward his small car, and Gun followed him, climbing into the backseat.
"Put your seatbelt on kid." The cop said and he complied.
"I didn't catch your name, officer?" Gun asked, trying to make polite conversation as he pulled out of the dirt path leading to the bungalow.
"I don't think that's important right now kid." The cop said. Gun was suddenly aware of the door locks engaging, and how tightly the belt cinched around his hips.
"No?" He asked quietly, grasping the belt connector in case he needed to undo it quickly.
        "You don't need to know it when you're just heading back to the boss." The cop said, smirking in the rear view mirror.
        "You work for Kirave." Gun said, certain in his defeat.
        "Kid, you don't think he's got his hands in everything? I don't work for him but he threatened my daughter so here we are. You seem like a nice kid but it's my family."
        In his defence the cop did seem somewhat apologetic, but that didn't change the fact that he was driving Gun to his death.
        Gun slowly slid the buckle out of the cinch, watching the cop through the grill separating the front seat from the back.
       "Is he here on the island?" Gun asked quietly.
       "Listen kid, I don't know who you are or why he wants you, but I don't know anything. I just need to drop you at a dock, and then he'll leave my family alone." The cop had the decency to look ashamed with himself.
       Gun glared at him, pulling his knees up, and heels on the seat, preparing himself for escape at the first opportunity.

       Off had managed to get all but one screw out. It felt like all his joints were being ripped from their sockets but he'd almost gotten it.
       He took a deep breath and threw himself forward with all the strength he had, ripping the towel bar off the wall and falling forward, the metal bar clattering loudly against the sink and tile floor.
        The door was thrown open, smacking him in the hip painfully.
       "What the fuck?" A male voice yelled, and without taking a moment to think Off twisted over, swinging the metal towel bar up at the figure.
       It connected with the man's side and he twisted away, letting out a yell of pain and surprise. Off rolled over kicking the man's knees with his tied together feet, and the man fell over, cracking his head on the sink, falling back into the doorway.
        Off waited for a moment, gripping the towel bar in his hand, but the man didn't move.  Shuffling himself over, he peeked his head out of the doorway, looking for other men.
      The dingy hotel room was empty, so he crawled over the man, turning around to search him for a knife, which he had in a holster near his hip. Gripping it as best he could with his hands still attached to a towel bar, he worked it between the zip tie on his ankles, breaking it open.
      He then turned the knife inwards, awkwardly trying to jimmy it in between his wrists to cut himself free. The knife slipped around, slashing into the side of his wrist but he ignored the pain, continuing to saw as best he could.
      Blood seeped down his arms, but he kept at it until finally the plastic broke, the knife and towel bar falling to the ground.
       His fingers suddenly came to life, he hadn't even noticed how numb they'd become, and an excruciating pain jolted down his hands. Hissing, he squeezed his hand over the cut on his wrist, using his injured hand to grab the knife off the floor and get to his feet.
      He lurched toward the door, letting go of his wound to open the door and peek outside. There was a man walking toward him, who suddenly raised his eyebrows and gave a shout of alarm. 
     Off slammed the door shut, scrambling to put the chain on. He looked over at the window, moving over to it and looking down. He was two floors up, and it might hurt to jump.
     Banging on the door intensified, and he heard a little groan as the man he'd knocked into the sink began to stir back into consciousness. Making a snap decision, he slid the window open, squeezing himself out onto the ledge backward, hanging down from his fingertips.
       Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, thought of Gun's face, and let go.