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After he’d broken the metal in half and worked the pieces into proper shapes using the hard surface of the walls to bend them, he ventured quietly over to the door. He listened for a moment, his ear right against the two-inch-thick wood, at least judging by the width of the slot. The hinges were on the outside of the door, so they were no help to him. It was just him and the lock. He got down on his hands and knees and edged open the slot a few centimeters. He listened for sounds of breathing, of movement, of a heart thudding too fast—other than his own, that is. There it was. A foot grazing across the floor. He retreated to the chair and sat down, continuing to count the seconds. He needed to get out of here, fast. But that was obviously not going to happen. Slow it down, take your tim
- Writer
