Claire lay motionless on a wooden table, blood dripping over the sides, and a large knife stood tall in her belly. There was something smug about it. Her skin was pasty and grey and her chest failed to move. He was too late.
Cal almost vomited at the sight. Upon regaining consciousness again he had more thoroughly explored the small cell, locating the hole in the ceiling once more. He cleared his mind well enough to focus on the task at hand and after several attempts was finally able to find a small handhold in the uneven surface.
Using the handhold he pulled himself into the hollow then used his legs and arms to brace himself against the uneven stones and wiggle out of his prison. He had been weak and dizzy, but his determination to find Claire gave him the strength to move.
