Wrenched

“Master William!” I yell out as loud as I have dared to speak. I’ve never heard myself talk this loudly before.

Ever.

I spend so much time in my head shouting, but never out loud.

I wait.

Another shiver wracks my body. I fear being left here, more than the punishment that will come later for speaking out, but still, the walls are silent.

I focus on myself and notice my dress hasn’t been cut from my body. I’m fully clothed.

He hasn’t touched me yet.

I can’t even rejoice in this knowledge because I’m afraid of what this all means for me today. I don’t understand. Master William never deviates from his pattern.

I twist my body so I can see to my right, biting down on my bottom lip as pain assaults my shoulders while I wrench them, trying to take in my predicament.

Then, I see him.

He’s lying in a tumbled heap at the bottom of the staircase, which I hang from the side of.

Is he dead?

Please, if there is a God, please make him be dead.

What if he is dead? What does this mean for me?

Reality hits me like a thunderbolt because he hasn’t responded to my calls, I’m hanging bound by my wrists, and nobody knows I exist.

Nobody is coming to save me.

I shut my eyes and let my head slump forward as I try to calm myself so I can think clearly about the unbelievable situation I find myself in. The pain’s getting unbearable, and I can take a lot of pain.

I dare another look at the body, and it’s still unmoving and as still as the walls holding up this house, while I’m trussed up like a pig.

I have to get myself down from here.

I look up as high as I can. Even though my head bangs against the side of the staircase, it’s protected by the thick Rapunzel braid he’s roped my hair into, the same as always. It’s not that far to get to the banister.

I take note of what I can use to rescue myself, then I tick off the list of things I need to do in my mind to get out of this predicament.

First thing I have to do is get myself facing the side of the staircase, then I can use my feet to push up on the brass doorknob that opens the always locked storage room underneath it, which is currently pushing into my lower back.

Today, this doorknob might save my life. I try not to panic, afraid he will wake up at any moment. Hurrying will only lead to mistakes.

I take a deep breath and center myself.

Inhale.

Exhale.

I can do this.

I test my legs first by giving them a shake. I have mobility, so I swing my lower body and twist as hard as I can. I flip around, pain hitting my belly where the brass knob’s now pushing into it, while this sudden movement awakens a new pain in my wrists from the rope rubbing my flesh.

I’m panting from the strain on my body. My neck’s now tucked in tight as I clear my mind and concentrate on grabbing a hold of the rope with what little movement my fingers have. I wriggle them a little and grasp the rope as best I can, visualizing what I need to do.

I take another deep breath because this is really going to hurt like a bitch, and I lift both legs up as high as I can, using what core strength I can find. My bare feet hit out at the brass knob as I get traction with one foot and push up with all my strength, grunting as I claw with my fingers up the rope at the same time.

Every part of my body is working together as a team to get to the goal of me standing on the brass doorknob, while busy fingers are creeping up the rope like spiders to take some of my weight and help my legs out.

I manage to take in nervous, quick glances at the body, for fear of seeing it move as I work to raise myself up. I’m making barely audible grunts from the exertion as sweat dribbles down my face. I rub my head again on the side of my arm in annoyance of the face mask, dislodging it and giving my head a little shake when it finally falls away.

I forget any pain and keep clawing my way a little closer to freedom as I push up with my feet. My thighs are burning from the awkward angle until I’m standing with one foot on the knob and I have both hands holding onto the bottom of one of the railing’s carved wooden posts.

I rest my head for a few seconds from the strain on my body and roll my shoulders, trying to loosen them up a little. At least my arms are no longer pulled tight above my head. There’s a small relief in my joints, but I have a long way to go still to get out of this mess I’m in.

Master William still hasn’t moved.

I reach up as high as I can, with my hands locked around the banister post, the sculpted wood giving me something firm to grip onto. I swing my other leg up until it hits the bottom of one of the lower stairs, the sole of my bare foot sliding in between the posts. I use that leg to bend and hoist me a little higher, and my hands work together, clawing their way up the post they are latched onto. My other foot pushes off the brass knob with as much spring as I can muster, so my knee can leverage against the side of the staircase and I can try to push off with it. Any part of my body I can use to gain height is worth a shot.

I’m now at an awkward angle as I tell my brain to get with the program and move what needs to be moved to get the job done. Arms, legs, and fingers are battling for the end result. I grapple my way farther up the banister post until I can get my knee onto the step between two posts. I move the rest of my body over to be in line with it, and pull myself up until I’m standing.

Holy shit. I did it.

I hang over the railing, panting, trying to catch my breath for several heartbeats, and then I swing my tired body over, landing on the hard, jutting steps in a clumsy heap, forcing an, “Oomph!” out of me. Bruises will be inevitable.

I lay in an awkward mess with my limbs hurting, and notice the rope wrapped tightly around my wrists has turned a dirty red. It’s a small price to pay to no longer be hanging there.

I give myself a couple minutes to recharge until I have enough strength to get up and start working the knot, which holds me prisoner. My fingers are sore from gripping the rope, but they know their job is not quite done. They continue to work together, pulling and loosening where they can to get the knot undone. Master William has a padded piece of suede wrapped under the rope, so it didn’t damage his precious railing.

Without my weight pulling it tight, it only takes a few moments to slacken the knot and get the rope off the rail. I drop it onto the steps, where it will just have to drag along behind me.

Victory!

There’s no time to celebrate. If he’s still alive, this is my opportunity to kill the bastard while he’s knocked out.

But can I do that?

Am I a killer?

I already know the answer to that.

I need something sharp to cut the rope binding my wrists, then I will be free to make the next decision.

I get to the bottom of the stairs and freeze.

I’m afraid to move past him in case this is some cruel joke and he’s testing me, so I sit down on the bottom step, his splayed body just a couple feet away from me, and hope this whole scene is not set up to catch me out and see if I’ll run.

He’s wearing that horrible midnight black, satin shirt without buttons with the hood attached. It’s the one he always wears when he comes for me, paired with the loose black pants. The hood’s always up, but it has folded back from the fall, revealing the back of his head.

“Master William,” I whisper. “Can you hear me?”

I wait a beat.

He appears lifeless and I’m frozen on the bottom step, nervous he’s going to jump up and attack me, making sure to beat the shit out of me.