Off Limits

“If the hook is soft enough, you might be able to get it to open some,” I said, understanding her point of view. “But you might just jerk your arms out of socket at the same time.”

“I'll take a surgery or two to avoid dying,” Shawnie said, her breath coming fast and hard as she dropped again. Tears rolled down her face as she climbed slowly back to her feet, her head drooping. She shook her head, trying to repress the pain, and looked up at me, desperate for support, or at least a distraction. “Tell me something, Abby.”

“What do you want to know?” I asked, looking up at her hook. Maybe there was a way I could do something instead of stand there like a damsel in distress, waiting for some hero to rescue me. I suck at that sort of thing—it doesn't fit my personality.

“Tell me about Dane,” she said, taking a deep breath and tensing her forearms before dropping again. Blood trickled through her grip and down the chain looped around her left fist, and her face was a near mask of pain as she stood up. “Tell me that at least he was worth all of this damn trouble.”

“I don’t know if anyone is worth this shit,” I said, trying to lighten the mood a little. “No, but really, beyond that Bad Boy exterior, he’s got a good heart. We’ve really only had a few days together spaced out over nearly a month, but I really like him.”

Shawnie stopped her dropping, looking at me in wonder. “Well, I hope something comes of it after all of this.”

“He's not perfect, but he’s perfect for me.”

Shawnie grinned and flexed her hands painfully. “When is your and Mr. Perfect’s wedding?”

“Well, let’s not quite go there yet,” I said, shaking my chains and looking up. “Hold on. You rest while I try something really, really stupid.”

When I was a kid, I used to go to Gymboree after kindergarten. After Mom and my sister died, Daddy still had me going for a few years, at least until my body started to shoot up and he worried that I was getting too tall for becoming a gymnast. I’d tired of the class by then anyway, but I still did cheerleading in high school, although our squad was more of the dancer type than the gymnastics type. I had a pretty mean booty roll back in high school, if I do say so myself, although that didn't do much for my shoulder and back strength.

So it had been a few years since I tried anything like what I was about to do, but I figured there was no time like the present, and I couldn't think of any greater source of motivation, unless there were poisonous snakes or huge, ugly spiders in the garage as well that I wasn't seeing yet. The light through the window dimmed, and I thought the sun was nearly gone outside, night approaching. At least that would let some of the heat fade from the garage. That was something I could at least hope for.

I first tried my maneuver the strict way, grabbing the chain and pulling it tight enough to take away the slack. Chris had used a pair of handcuffs that he'd separated and then apparently welded to the main chain, so there was some pull on my wrists as I wrapped my hands through the chain and pulled up. The pain was immediate as the links tightened around the bones in my hand, and I gritted my teeth, trying to pull my feet up and to the chains. I was able to reach the cuffs, but the next phase of my plan fell apart as I couldn't get the strength to straighten out my legs and extend my body to the point of hanging upside down. Falling back, I gasped, flexing my aching hands. “Well, that version didn't work.”

“Are you trying what I think you're trying?” Shawnie asked as she prepared herself mentally to drop again.

“I pulled it off when I was seven,” I defended myself, sounding stupid even as it left my mouth. “It's worth a try.”

Shawnie didn't have a reply, but dropped again instead, a scream tearing from her throat as she jerked to a stop. This time, she didn't get up so quickly, but pulled with her right arm only as she stood up. “Shawnie, what happened?”

“Left arm,” Shawnie cried pitifully as she regained her feet. She tried but failed to stifle a sob, burying her mouth in her shoulder. “Maybe my elbow. It hurts, and I felt something pop in it.”

“Then stop it,” I said, looking up at the beam over my head. “I'll try to get us out of here. I'll try the cheat way this time. I should have the first time, except I'll be swinging like an idiot the whole time. Last time I did that on rings. I puked hanging upside down.”

“I wouldn't, if I were you,” Shawnie said. “Puke, that is.”

“Thanks for the advice,” I said, trying not to laugh despite the serious situation. I stepped back, and was just about to launch myself forward and up in the short amount of slack on my chain when the sound of a truck approaching came through to our ears. “Shit. Better hurry.”

“No,” Shawnie said sharply. “There's no way you can get that maneuver pulled off in time. Better to stay where you are. Maybe he gets stupid and we can kick him in the balls or something.”

I stopped, nodding at the wisdom of Shawnie's words. “Okay, but promise me one thing.”

“What's that?”