Shattered

Chapter 37

                                                *9 days later*

It's been two weeks.

That's all I know.

They gave me a little water and forced a banana down my throat this morning after a night full of pain.

They changed the zip-tie on my wrist last week, making it so tight that it was digging into my skin.

My wrists have been bleeding for 3 days because of this.

After the first week of being here, I had lost all hope of getting out.

But I still wasn't tied to the chair.

And I could hear them all upstairs, drinking and getting drunk.

I waited a few hours until I didn't hear anything.

At that moment, I knew.

I was getting out of here.

I looked around, noticing they left a knife down here.

After slowly making my way over to it, trying to ignore the blinding pain, I picked it up, and cut the zip-tie.

I slowly made my way to the bottom of the basement stairs, feeling nothing but pain.

Staying as quiet as I could, I slowly crawled up the raggedy old wooden steps.

By the time I got to the top, I was breathing heavy, and in more pain than I've ever been in.

I didn't let that stop me.

Slowly and unsteadily getting onto my feet, I pulled myself up, leaning against the door for support.

I can do this.

I tried to turn the knob, but it was locked.

Ace showed me how to pick locks.

After a second of looking around, I slowly scooted down the stairs again, picked up the knife, and crawled back up.

I stuck the knife in the lock hole and twisted it.

I turned the knob.

It worked.

I opened the door the smallest bit, seeing all of them passed out of the couches in the other room.

The basement was connected to the kitchen, and I saw a phone.

On the counter, it was mine.

Staying as silent as I could, I slipped out of the basement, grabbed the phone, and went back down.

If they came down here, they wouldn't suspect a thing.

I opened the phone as fast as I could, immediately texting dad.

5634 East Grove Street. Help.

I heard the door opening.

I quickly slid the phone across the room, hoping they wouldn't see it, and put my hands behind my back, laying on my side and pretending to be knocked out.

"Get up." Scott said, giving my ribs a harsh kick.

I grunted and doubled over, holding my breath as pain coursed through my body.

I hope dad gets here soon; I'm not sure how much more I can take.

"I said get up!" He yelled, kicking me even harder.

Slowly sitting up, I watched him stumble over to the knife on the ground.

"Stand." He commanded, coming back over to me, knife in hand.