The man sat in the dim light of the shed, bound by a belt secured around his waist, tethered to a chain bolted into the floor. The hours had passed slowly, each minute stretching into an eternity as he waited for darkness to descend. His muscles throbbed with exhaustion and pain from his previous attempts to free himself from the shackles, but a flicker of determination burned within him.
As twilight enveloped the shed, he seized the opportunity. With gritted teeth and a silent prayer, he maneuvered the weightlifting belt over his hip bones, each movement sending waves of excruciating pain through his body. It felt as though something inside him popped, the bones and joints protesting against the strain. But he pushed through, driven by the urgency of freedom.
Finally, with a surge of relief mixed with agony, he managed to slip the belt past his hips. The sharp edges of the metal buckle scraped against his skin, leaving raw marks, but he ignored the pain as he wriggled and contorted his body inch by agonizing inch.
He reached the shed's entrance, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he glanced between the door and the hidden trapdoor near the wooden crates. Uncertainty gripped him momentarily, torn between the locked door and the unknown beneath the floor hatch. With a fleeting decision, he turned towards the door first.
He yanked and pulled at the door with all his strength, but it refused to budge. Frustration and desperation fueled his next move. Taking a deep breath, he sprinted towards the door, crashing into it like a linebacker. The impact reverberated through the shed, echoing into the night. He winced at the noise but pressed on, driven by an urgent need to escape. He knew that if he could just escape this hellish shed, he could overpower the couple. At least, he told himself that.
The door remained steadfast, unmoved by his assault. Defeated, he sank to the floor, with his back against it. His gaze fell upon the trapdoor once more.
He stumpled over to the crates, and pushed them to reveal the hatch.
He looked at the dark stains on the floor, trailing towards the trapdoor. He squinted, trying to make sense of the scene. The stains weren't just splatters; they formed a deliberate path, as if something or someone had been dragged across the floor. There was no blood on the trapdoor itself, only leading up to it. Something, or someone, had been dragged down there. But there was no lock on this side of the wooden lid.
Frantically, he searched for a way to pry it open, feeling around its edges for any purchase. There was no handle, no way for his fingers to grasp the stubborn lid. Panic rose within him as he heard sounds from outside, realizing he must have made enough noise to alert the couple.
But this time, he could only here the footsteps of one. And there were no talking.
If there’s only one of them, I might have a chance, he thought.
Once more, the jangling of keys in the lock echoed through the shed. He desperately scanned the trapdoor, wiping away dust and grime. Just as the shed door swung open, he noticed something etched into the surface of the hatch.
In minuscule letters, barely visible in the dim light, were two words.
The message sent a chill down his spine. What did it mean? Who had left it behind, and why? Before he could grasp the full implications, a sudden sensation pierced his back like two needles.
Muscle spasms gripped him, contorting his body in agony. Darkness encroached on the edges of his vision as he lay sprawled on the cold floor, powerless against the brutal assault of the stun gun. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving with each labored inhale, while rough hands maneuvered him with a callous disregard.
The sensation of ropes tightened around his wrists and ankles, biting into his flesh. He winced at the rough treatment, the ropes digging deeper with each tug, binding him securely despite his feeble struggles.
His forehead slammed against the floor and he once again, saw the message.
"Kill yourself"