Page 62 of His Obsession
I needed to figure out how to get out of this mess just in case Iwasall on my own; if he never saw my letter, and Alek thought I left him.
I glanced around, taking in my surroundings. There wasn’t much I could do but wait untilhecame through that door, the one thing blocking me from my freedom. My gaze settled on the metal grate again, and an idea came to mind. I scrambled over to it, working to pry the rusty lid from the floor, but it wouldn’t budge. Two corroded, flat-head screws sat inside, binding the drain to the floor. Dammit.
Think, Liz. Think.
What can I use?
The water bottle I threw still sat by the door, waiting for its secondary use. I grabbed the bottle, doubting my idea would work, but I would try anything.No harm in trying, they say.
I took off the lid and lined up the edge of the cap with the flat groove in the screws. The edges were too thick and wouldn’t stick inside, so I began rubbing it in the track, filing it down until it slipped in and gripped. Excitement filled my body, and I turned the lid with too much enthusiasm, causing it to slip from the screw, skinning my knuckle against the rusted metal.
Ouch.I silently cried.
My skin peeled away, and a blooming-red tinge of blood appeared. Oh, Lord,pleasedon’t let me puke. I tried to shake the pain and nausea away, turning back to concentrate on the task at hand, needing that distraction. I slid the plastic back into the groove, averting my eyes away from the blood slicking my fingertips. With shaking hands, I pressed firmly into the screw and turned it slowly.
The screw gave a little, and my heart leaped for joy. Keeping the pressure on it, I twisted it a little more, and it gave way, turning easier. I worked the rotation until the screw was high enough to continue with my fingers, freeing it from its hole.
Yes!
I placed the screw next to my leg and went for broke on the other. I put the plastic inside the groove, and a bump sounded from the other side of the door. I threw the cap behind the toilet and grabbed the screw, placing it between my knuckles, allowing the point to stick out like they teach women to do with their keys. I clambered to the edge of the makeshift bed and waited for what would be the battle for my life.
An older man with salt and pepper hair forced open the door and rushed towards me. His hands reached out, grabbing a chunk of my messy hair, and tugged me out to a spacious cemented room. Panic seized my muscles, and I forgot the training I worked on for weeks, all the battle moves I just had in my head—gone.
My feet stumbled beneath me, and I fell to the ground on my knees. He was strong for a man that seemed to be of advanced age. He pulled my body across the floor with ease, like I was a simple rag-doll, stopping to shove me into the only chair in the room.
He released my hair, and I bounced back, launching at him with my screw in my fist. I crashed into his torso and stabbed the screw into his side, removing it and doing it again.
A roar sounded above me, and a knee connected with my stomach, causing me to lose my grip on the screw. I watched it topple end over end, rolling to its ultimate resting place under the table. The air left my body with another blow, this time from the tip of his boot, as it connected with my stomach, and I was left gasping on the cold, dirty floor.
“Stupid little bitch.”
My lungs burned as I tried to suck in my much-needed oxygen. I dry-heaved on the floor when he kneeled down, lifted my head up by my hair, and his fist hit me hard, jarring my jaw and knocking my teeth.
Pain stunned me into temporary submission as he hurtled me from the floor and back into the chair. He wrapped his thick arm around my throat in a move I’d only seen in wrestling and squeezed tight. Blood halted to my brain like a dam, and the lights went out faster than I could react.
He tied my arms and legs down, and I was unable to move. A significant difference from the last time I woke up. The severity of the situation just got worse. I could no longer defend myself.
“Finally. I was getting bored.”
I popped my head up towards his voice.
The voice I hated had morphed into the body standing before me. The man leaned against the table with no shirt, tearing bandage tape with his teeth and sticking it to the gauze covering his side. A satisfied smirk crossed my lips, and pride for what I’d done filled my chest. I could at least say I fought back—not that it got me anywhere… again.
I flexed my jaw side to side, trying to relieve the ache. I knew this pain. He did the same thing to me before, only I had painkillers to take afterwards.
“Who are you?” I asked, trying to pull my fingers through the bindings.
He stopped what he was doing for a moment and looked at me. “Oh, how rude of me. I’m Jimmy,” he said. His voice was peppy, as if he was being introduced to a family friend.
“That’s what you find rude? Out of everything going on… that’s it?” I snipped at him, raising my eyebrows.
“You’ve got more nerve than I envisioned, I’ll give you that,” he said, grinning at me.
It was hard to look at him without seeing Alek standing in front of me. He didn’t have the tattoos that Alek did, but he had one. A large ship anchor on his forearm reminded me of those that old navy men had from the wars.
Jimmy pulled his shirt over his head and threw the bandage wrappers into the trash next to the table. “For a second, I thought I was back in prison, getting shanked by Tiny Todd. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Too bad Tiny Todd didn't finish you off in there,” I sneered. The words came out before I could think.