Meg twisted against her restraints. She had to get loose. Never had she wanted to throw herself into her mother’s arms like she did at this very moment. In order for that to happen, she had to find a way to escape.
Escape. Escape. Escape.
The word raced through her mind like a mantra.
Her captor had left after taking a hunk of Meg’s hair and uncuffing one hand so she could eat. The other hand remained chained to the ring in the cement wall. An apple and a jug of water sat within reaching distance. Meg hesitated and wondered if it was drugged. She picked up the apple and sniffed it. Smelled fine.
She did the same with the water. Also fine. She took one bite of the apple and waited. When nothing happened, she scarfed the rest down, then went to work. She studied the metal bolt screwed into the wall. No amount of pulling or yanking had separated it from the cement. However, the chain that had been screwed to the bolt had a large screw, long enough to poke through the other side. And it had a very sharp point.
It was awkward and hard, but desperation drove her. Using the pointed end of the screw, her teeth, and her fingernails, she tore apart the hard plastic jug. She cut herself several times. Deep gashes that made her wince. But she kept going until she had what she needed.
Now to get out of the cuffs.
She worked on a piece of the tough plastic until she had it shaped into something she could use as a key. She pushed it into the end of the cuff and worked it. Turned it one way and then another. Sweat dripped into her eyes. Time passed and her desperation grew. She cried, she prayed, she refused to give up until finally she heard the click.
And the handcuffs opened.
Immediately she went back to the plastic and used the screw on the chain once more to work and cut until she had a large piece from the side in the shape of a triangle. Sharp edges. She rolled two of the ends over and wrapped the fingers of her free hand around the cylinder. She held her crude weapon and felt her pulse pound.
She went to the door and felt along the edges. No handle on the inside, just a keyhole. Her hands ached, her head throbbed. Terror grabbed at her and she pushed it away. She didn’t have time to be afraid. She had to get out.
And then she heard the footsteps.