The rope was loosest around his ankles. There wasn’t a lot of slack, but there was enough that Micah could move his feet back and forth about half an inch in either direction. Crisscrossing beams connecting the legs of the chair made it impossible for Micah to simply slip his ankles free, rope and all, so he’d have to focus on creating more slack – maybe even fraying a bit of the rope against the legs of the chair – by simply causing friction.

Simple. Ha.

Micah’s calves burned after what must have been hours of forcing his feet to move continuously back and forth in a seesawing motion. He’d long ago drawn blood, little rivulets of red running down his heels and speckling the floor.

He likened himself to a woodland animal that had been caught in a hunter’s bear trap, and was gnawing his own leg off to survive. It was arduous work, and… unpleasant to say the least, but ironically, the pain radiating from his shoulder made it bearable. (After all, it didn’t seem so bad in comparison.)

And it was worth it.

Because after what must have been hours of rubbing his own broken skin against the unforgiving wood of the chair legs, and dozens of failed attempts to free himself, the rope had loosened enough around his right ankle that Micah was able to wiggle it loose.

Micah stared in shock at his freed limb. It was a gnarly sight, a ring of destroyed skin encircling his entire ankle. He didn’t let himself look too closely at the wound, however. There just wasn’t time. He had no idea how much time had passed since Ren had left or when he might return, but he had a feeling the punishment if he was caught attempting to escape would be brutal.

So Micah moved onto stage two of his plan, which involved using his unrestrained leg to kick at the wall with enough force to make the metal crucifix tumble to the floor. It was the perfect size to wedge up under the rope around his wrists so that Micah could repeat the same process with them as he had his ankles.

But first he had to get closer to the wall. Trying his best to ignore the pain that flared every time his arm was jostled, Micah bucked in the chair, using the momentum it created to shift jerkily towards the wall until he was in prime position.

Then he pulled back his leg and kicked the wall as hard as he could.

Wham.

The wall trembled, but the cross didn’t budge.

So Micah kicked it again.

Wham.

And again.

Wham.

And over and over until his foot was numb from the sting and tears of frustration were rapidly filling his eyes. “Goddammit!”

Wham.

“Come on, you motherfucker!”

Wham.