Saturday, 22 August 2015

Right Tool, Right Job



“Wakey wakey!”

I was nice and awake to hear this, thanks to a kick to my broken ribs.

“It’s a lovely… Well no, it sucks outside, but you’d still love to see it, right?”

He continued to talk in that same mocking tone, as I tried to focus on calming my breathing and blocking out the pain. I managed to withstand another kick, and him yanking my chair back upright.

The screwdriver jammed into my thigh, that I whimpered at. He laughed, and turned to fetch another weapon.

I’d undone the ropes, and now I was armed with a screwdriver.

No comments:

Post a Comment