Page 65 of The Atonement
Again.
It tipped, but didn’t fall.
Again.
Again.
Finally, it gave way, the chair leaning farther and farther to the right until—
CRASH.
I landed with a thud on the ground, my head cracking against the concrete with dizzying force. My arm had been smashed under the weight of it all and, if it wasn’t broken, it was very badly wounded.
I winced, trying to catch the breath the impact had knocked out of me. My eyes beaded with tears, but I blinked them away.
Not today.
You have to be strong today.
I had to be strong for my children. Had to get out for them. Had to save them. Ignoring the searing pain in my arm, I tugged against the fabric—up and down, right and left, until the rope burned my wrists. It wasn’t working. I wiggled in place as I tried and failed to break the metal chair.
There had to be another way.
Think.
Think.
Think.
With a deep breath, I pulled my right leg over,despite the pain as the chair pinched my arm again, leaning farther and farther until I could turn myself over. Face-first on the concrete, I slid across the floor, no doubt tearing the top layer of skin from my cheeks and nose. I stopped, catching my breath and swallowing down vomit, momentarily easing the pain, and started again.
The concrete burned, my entire weight forcing my face harder into it. I shifted my legs one at a time, half an inch at a time, stopping only when the pain was entirely too much.
With my next move, I felt the rope wrapped around my calf moving lower. I pushed forward, feeling it budge just a bit more. I gave one final jerk, and the rope slid to my ankle. I stopped, breathing a sigh of relief and trying to control my trembling.
I fell to my side again with a loudCLANG, panting and shaking, the pain in my face so unbearable I was sure I was going to pass out. I closed my eyes, twisting my ankle slowly and pulling my heel up until I felt it slip through the hole.
I was free.
At least, one leg was free.
My chest felt as if it might explode from happiness. Blood dripped into my eye, and I squeezed it shut, moving my toes to grab hold of the other cloth and pull them down my opposite leg. My knees throbbed, but I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t quit trying, not even for a second.
I had no idea when Peter would be back or what his plan was. Getting myself free and escaping through the emergency exit was my only choice.
Finally, I pulled my heel up through the hole and my second leg was free. I kicked them with triumph, my heart drumming in my chest. Rolling forward once again, my head screamed for relief, and, using all of my strength, I was able to stand. The weight of the chair made balancing myself impossible. I swayed, slamming into the wall, then turned.
With my back to the wall, I scrubbed my wrists up and down it, using as much force as I could to get the rope to tear. I winced and cried and bit my lip and fought against every nerve in my body screaming for me to stop, and finally…finally, I felt it rip. The rope broke free and the chair fell to the ground in an instant. I gathered my bleeding arms at my chest, sure the pain would never stop, and began to spin around, searching for a way out.
There was no sign of light in the room by design, so I had no idea what time of day or night it was. No idea if Peter would be home or if he’d be waiting for me. I thought back to the text message he’d sent me, to the picture of the blueprint. If I remembered correctly, the exit was on the far-left wall. But which way was left? Which way was I facing?
I put my hands out, feeling along the room, searching for anything to help orient me. My fingers ran across a shelf full of tools. Weapons, maybe. Then something lower—textured, cool to the touch. A freezer. I pulled my hands away in a hurry and spun around, slamming into something.
Someone.
“Going somewhere?” His breath hit my face, hishands gripping my arms, and I jerked away, colliding with the shelf of tools. I felt for one as he grabbed hold of my wrist, his fingers sticky in my blood, but he didn’t seem to notice.
I skimmed my hand across the shelf with panic, grabbing onto the first solid thing I could find—a metal tape measure—and slamming it against his jaw.
