Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man. -Friedrich Nietzsche
I'm not sure how long I slept. My head hurts, and I'm thirsty.
The cuff rattles when I move my right hand. Looking to my left, it's not bound. Pulling on the cuff bites into my skin.
Rolling onto my stomach, I examine the headboard. If I can loosen the rod, I can free the other end of the handcuff.
Sitting up, I grasp as much of the cuff as I can between my hands and pull. The rod moves slightly. So, I yank on it again until it pops out of place. Easing the cuff down the rod, I free myself and quietly roll off the mattress.
The cuff attached to my wrist dangles. Examining the window, my heart sinks. It has burglar bars. There are two doors in the room.
Stephen locked the one he left through, but I'm not sure where the other one leads. I tip-toe to the second door and turn the knob, slowly. It opens to a bathroom.