“Give me your phone,” she says, still grimacing from the pain of the blood finding its way back into her extremities.

I hand my phone to her, then move to the next closest person.

Isabel.

I pull the tape from her mouth and she says, “Gracias a Dios!”

I cut her restraints, then attempt to pull her to her feet. Like Ingrid, her limbs don’t respond, and I surmise that even though the eleven captives attempted to keep the blood flowing, there simply wasn’t enough space to do so.

Next, I free Minister Robert, then one of the bridesmaids — Megan, I think — then I come to my father.

My dad has terrible sinuses — his snoring sounds like a truck downshifting on the highway — and sucking air through just his nose for the past twenty-odd hours must have been like trying to breathe through a straw. I pull the duct tape off his mouth and watch as he pulls in a few long satisfying breaths.

I push his glasses up onto his nose, magnifying his watery eyes.

He forces his mouth into a crooked smile, too emotional to speak.

“I’m okay,” I assure him, then clip his restraints.

I hand him the box cutter and tell him to get started on the others while I look for something else to use.

“There are scissors in the junk drawer,” he says.

I run upstairs and grab the scissors. I am set to head back down when I return to the kitchen and open the fridge. Twenty-four hours without water wasn’t life or death, but it was highly unpleasant — shallow breathing, unfocused eyes, slurred speech — and I grab as many bottled waters as I can hold.

Ingrid is still on the phone when I return, and I hand her a bottled water. She sucks down all twenty ounces while she listens to whomever is on the other end. She tosses the bottle on the ground then hikes her wedding dress up and says, “I gotta get out of this thing.”

She leans in and gives me a long hug, then disappears up the stairs, her gait still a bit wobbly.

My dad has freed both of Ingrid’s parents and is working on Bonnie. I hand bottles of water to both of them, then fall to my knees and begin helping my dad. I clip the restraints on Rebecca and can’t help but notice her dress is damp.

My nose twitches.

Urine.

She senses my gaze and her face flushes.

I consider telling her that people weren’t designed to go twenty hours without urinating but decide this will only embarrass her further.

My father is now helping people to their feet, leaving me to free the remaining three captives.

Jorge, Murdock, and Lassie.

I pull the tape off Jorge’s mouth.

He says, “Free them first.”

“Okay,” I say, genuinely moved by this small act of humanity.

I survey Murdock and Lassie.