Pins and Needles

My skull might as well have been cleaved in two: that is how excruciating the pain in the side of my head felt, waking up on that cement floor. I groaned as I sat up, explosions of black and white obscuring my vision.

“God damn it, what happened?” I muttered, closing my eyes as the sparks settled. I tried to remember, finding only a fuzzy blur where my memories should be. A cough sounded to my right. I stiffened – someone else was here.

Through blurred sight I peered across the room, just able to make out a young lady in the corner, her head down. She was blonde, in a torn t-shirt and jeans with angry bruises on her arms and dots of red all over. I opened my mouth to speak, but froze as my gaze cleared up. This lady was chained to the wall by an eye hook, her hands bound together with shackles.

I jumped to my feet, only for the world to spin and send me stumbling back down. I grasped my head.

“What...what’s going on?” I asked, unable to make eye contact while the room steadied once more. Silence followed. I asked again.

“We’ve been captured by...some sick fuck,” the lady finally answered in a hoarse voice. “I’ve been here for days. You...you were just dragged down here. He knocked you over the head and left.”

“Captured…?”

“Yeah. He’ll kill us both so please...we have to get out.” Her voice trembled. I raised my eyes to meet hers and offered a slight nod.

“Okay, yeah...sure. Escape sounds good. What’s...what’s your name?”

“Nicole.”

“Okay Nicole, let’s get out of here then. I just need…” I pushed to stand, grateful for the wall at my back this time. “...to get my bearings.”

I took in the space, what little there was. The room comprised of not much more than a stone square; a windowless box with cracks crisscrossing its concrete floor, eye hooks on three of the walls, a rusted bucket, a standing metal tray and a single light fixture in the ceiling. Stone steps to my right divided one wall in half to make room for, I expected, our only exit.

I sensed Nicole’s eyes on me as I stumbled around the room’s edge, hand dragging along the rough wall for balance. As I neared the tray, her breath stilled. I didn’t have to ask why. On the tray, meticulously organized into rows, rest dozens of sewing needles of varying gauges and rust. Below those gleamed three long surgical needles. All were bloody, used recently.

“P-Please, no,” Nicole begged, “don’t touch those.”

I looked at her, an unusual emotion stirring in the pit of my stomach.

“..It’s what he uses to…” she couldn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to. Now that I stood closer, I realized the red dots on her face and arms were countless punctures, outlined by thin trails of blood.

I held up my hand. “I understand. Don’t worry.”

I approached and she recoiled, desperate to retreat yet already in a corner.

“I’m just trying to free you from these restraints.” I said, carefully dropping to my knees to inspect the shackles. The cuffs were thick and spattered with fresh blood, locked by a star-shaped bolt that rest flush. Without a key I couldn’t open these. Instead, I followed the length of chain from shackle to wall and inspected the eye hook that held her in place.

“I can’t remove the cuffs, but perhaps we don’t have to.”

I knew she heard me, yet she stared down unresponsive. Flicks of anger ignited in my stomach. Biting my tongue I slipped my fingers through the eye hook and pulled. My head screamed in protest but the hook didn’t budge.

“No good,” I said, releasing my grip and looking for another option. An idea clicked at the sight of the tray and with weak legs I crossed the room again. I tilted the tray, letting the needles fall to the ground. Nicole shrieked.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I repeated, returning to the wall with tray in tow. “Look, I need you to move from the corner. Give me as much of the chain’s slack as you can. I’m going to try and leverage this hook out of the wall. Then we can get out of here. Okay?”

Nicole still didn’t answer, though she moved away from the wall revealing several feet of chain between the hook and her cuffs.

“Okay, that’s fine. I can work with that.” I set about laying the tray on its side, wedged vertically underneath the chain as close to the wall as I could manage. With my hand gripping one link tight, I made space between the tray and my hand. I raised one shaky foot.

After the dizziness passed, I straightened up. “Ready, Nicole?” Without looking at me, she nodded.

I stomped down, the chain biting into the arch of my shoe as well as my hand. The concrete groaned but didn’t give. I tried again. And again. Each stomp stabbed pain like a railroad spike into my brain, yet the crack of concrete drove me forwards.

Then, one last stomp did the trick. The eye hook came loose, spitting bits of rubble free.

“It...it worked!” I exclaimed. Nicole peered from the wall to me and back again, before scrambling to scoop the length of chain into her arms. She stood and limped across the room, testing her newfound freedom. Her breath returned to normal somewhat, the trembling lessened.

“Thank you, but…” she glanced around, “now what?”

“Now we figure out how to open the door at the top of those stairs.”

“It’ll be locked…”

“Probably, but we’ll figure it out. Nobody is...” My words drifted away, my skull thumping to the beat of my heart. I held the side of my head again. It felt wet. I examined my hand, fresh blood smeared along my palm. “Let’s...do this quick.”

I shuffled to the exit and glared. Six stone stairs awaited me, but they might as well have been a mountain. One labored step at a time I climbed, leaning my weight on the wall. My vision threatened enclosing darkness with each movement. Only after what felt like an eternity, the black metal door at the top came within reach at last.

Leaning my forehead against the cool door, I gathered myself. I stared at the door handle with a wary eye. A digital combination lock winked a red light back at me. I tried the handle, hoping against hope.

It held fast.

Then it dawned on me. A memory, unclear before, emerged from the static of my mind.

“Did you get it?” Nicole’s voice called from below. I didn’t respond.

Cautious I reached for the number pad, my finger on autopilot.

Six beeps later, a soft click sounded. I tried the handle, the metal turning freely. The door opened a crack, the light of day warm on my face.

“Did you get it?” Nicole asked again, now from the base of the stairs.

I quietly pulled the door shut, the lock clicking back in place.

“No.”

A sneer pulled at my lip.

“You were right, it’s locked.”