Shackled

He opens his eyes. Scared, alone, abandoned. He doesn’t know where he is. He is shackled, by his wrists, to a bed. A dirty mattress on an old brass frame. He hears the familiar sounds of traffic from the city just outside. But outside of where? Where is he? Better yet, how the hell did he get there?

His last memory is of him walking to his car after work. He heard a loud thud from behind a pillar in the parking garage. It was a thud, followed by darkness. A thud and then he wakes up here.

He’s got to make a plan. He’s must find a way out of here. But first he’s got to break free from these ropes that bind him. They won’t just slide off. It’s tight. He tries anyway. He tries until the rope rubs his wrist raw. Even then, he keeps trying. Writhing and wiggling until the ropes are soaked with his blood. It’s no use. The ropes aren’t coming undone. Fear is taking hold. He’s got to break free. He has to get out if this situation.

Life was going so great and in an instant it’s all changed. Nothing is the same.

He has resigned. Someone or something must come along and release him. It’s unlikely, but he believes. He lays on the bed waiting for help to arrive. Waiting for his savior. But it’s never coming. No one knows where he is. No one knows that he’s even gone. It’s up to him to get free.

With the last bit of strength he has he breaks his right wrist free. He frees himself. No longer tied down he walks out of his prison into the sun light. He’s okay, his wounds will heal but his scars will be everlasting reminders of his struggle.