Run to Me

Trap

I stared ahead at the wall, Jackson's laughter echoing in my ears, anger and frustration searing my throat as I held in the scream that I was longing to let out. My jaw was locked as I twisted my bound hands together, squeezing them so tightly that I felt like I was about to break them, but it was all I could do to keep control. I didn't know how long ago they sent it, how long it would be until Jett would arrive, but I knew he would. I knew that there was no way in hell that he would turn his back and leave me here. He wasn't that kind of man, and that is what would lead to his downfall. They knew that about him too, and they were counting on using that as a weakness. I just had to make sure that it wasn't one, I had to help. For me to be able to do that, I had to be free. One thought calmed me, he was alive, he really was. They wouldn't have sent that if they weren't sure. Given their tactics so far, I'd bet they had eyes on him even now.

"Nothing to say to that?" He teased.

I slowly turned towards him, my face an emotionless mask.

"That was a big mistake." I said coldly.

He narrowed his eyes in thought, clearly confused by my lack of reaction, unaware of the banshee like screaming that was going through my head.

"I don't think so." He took a couple of steps forward, moving past me. "I have to go and make a few arrangements for his welcoming party. But don't worry, I'll make sure that you are there for the gifts." He gloated, disappearing from sight.

I listened to his retreating footsteps until they died out and I was sure he was gone.

Alone in the room again, I knew that it was time to get to work. I had to be in a better position when Jett arrived. I glanced at the cameras, all were still pointed at me. I knew that I couldn't make anything too obvious, but somehow, I had to get free. I tried to feel for the knot on the ropes, but I couldn't reach it, they were tied too tightly to slide my fingers under them either, and pulling at them was making no difference. I decided to attempt to strain the ropes by pulling my arms towards me and spreading my palms apart in hopes to get the rope sliding forwards over my hands. On the second pull the rope nudged a little, and I felt a burning pain in the back of my right hand. I would have presumed it was just a cut, if it wasn't for the pressure there at the same time. I tried to pull it again, ignoring whatever it was that was biting deeper into my skin but the rope seemed to catch on it and the soreness increased. It was a tricky maneuver, but I managed to twist my left hand around my wrist enough to reach the area. There was a wetness to my skin and as I felt a sharp bump, I realised why. There was a fairly small, but sharp fragment of glass embedded in the back of my hand, probably trapped in my hand from being dragged out of the car. I had to stop myself from smiling as I realised this might just work. Making sure that the cut was covered by my fingers, I used my thumb and little finger to pinch the skin on either side, pushing the glass back to the surface, and into my fingers. It probably wasn't even as big as my little fingernail, but the part that had dug into my skin had a sharp point. Determined to get to work, I clung to it tightly, feeling it pricking my fingertips, and turned the sharp edge towards the ropes, beginning to subtly cut through them.

As the minutes ticked on, Jackson and his men began to wander into the room. They all walked past me, ignoring me as though I was just part of the surroundings, whilst I continued working to sever the rope. I'd been snaking the rope around my wrist as I loosened it so that they wouldn't notice. I knew the time was running out, and thankfully, I was nearly free. I could feel the final few fibres that were clinging together.

Jackson certainly hadn't come unprepared. Along with himself and Aaron, he had four other men, all of them kitted up with guns and looking ready to bring chaos to the evening. I watched as Aaron walked up to one guy and began talking to him. The man nodded and turned, the light catching his face and illuminating a gnarly scar that ran across his jaw, and a tattoo on his neck. The recollection slammed into me, the vivid memory hitting me so abruptly that I didn't even feel the glass slipping from my fingers. That man... he was there that day. In London, with Holden. The man in the hood, the scar, the tattoo... it was him. He was the connection to Holt. I felt sick as I then recalled why we were even in London. Carl. My own fucking father. If it hadn't been for his mess, I'd never have gone back there, Jett would never have gone back there, and we wouldn't be in this mess now. The feeling of being followed, the car that I saw, that wasn't paranoia at all. That was Aaron, that was him following us back. I heard the sound of an engine approaching, and tyres over gravel. Jett was here. I needed to get through the last bit. I fumbled my fingers to continue cutting, but I found no glass. I needed to break out of these ties, I had no time to waste now. I knew one hard tug would be able to snap the final few fibres, but there was no way of me subtly pulling it off.