tipped it over, and studied the flimsy, metal construction. The plastic seat and backrest would be useless. But if I could get it apart from the support rails I could use those. I didn’t know what I’d use them as. A weapon? A crowbar to break Gabe’s cuffs?
I yanked and tugged and pulled. There was no way I was strong enough to pry apart the pieces screwed together. On shaky, weak legs I stood. Once I had my balance I picked up the chair and threw it onto the ground as hard as I could.
If someone heard they’d come but at that point, I had nothing to lose. By morning we’d be dead and I’d be damned if I would be sniveling in a corner when that happened. I would not sit idly by, quiet like I’d promised Gabe. That was never going to happen again. If they wanted to kill me they’d have to fight me. If they planned on beating Gabe again, they’d have to go through me. I didn’t care if I had to use the chair intact the way it was now, I’d get my swings in before they touched Gabe again.
My feeble attempt did nothing but ding some of the coating off the metal but no one came into the room so I took that as a good sign and picked up the chair. This time I didn’t throw it. I kept hold of the backrest and slammed it onto the concrete as hard as I could.
Nothing.
So I did it again and again. So many times my arms started to give out and I knew someone was going to come. Finally, I heard a snap and the support bar came loose from one of the legs. I waited with my heart thumping in my chest but the door didn’t open. I waited another few seconds just to be sure. Then when no one came I took the chair with me and went back to Gabe.
I placed my hand over his heart again, needing the reassurance he was alive. The rhythm provided momentary peace but as quickly as the emotion came it fled.
“I need you to wake up,” I whispered.
Gabe didn’t answer.
I sat down and concentrated on the chair. It was easy to bend and break one of the support bars free and when I saw the jagged metal end I wanted to whoop in joy. I had a weapon. And with nothing else to do and needing my mind occupied so I didn’t fall apart and give in to my fear I worked other pieces of the chair free. I wasn’t sure how long I was at it but it was long enough for me to have most of the chair disassembled. Unfortunately, I only had two pieces of metal I could use as weapons, but two were better than none.
Two gave me hope.
I scooted down to Gabe’s feet and took in his bonds. Plastic zip ties. I might not be able to get his hands out of metal handcuffs but I was pretty sure I could saw through the plastic around his ankles.
A few minutes into the cutting I was losing hope. I was too exhausted from what little I’d done. My biceps burned and try as I might I’d barely cut the tie.
But then a miracle happened.
It was as if hearing Gabe’s scratchy voice call my name was what I needed to renew my waning strength.
I stopped sawing and turned to look at him.
“Hey, you’re awake.”
Very slowly he blinked. “You okay?”
Was I okay?
Hell to the no I was not okay. I was terrified.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” I lied. “I got the chair apart.” I held up the bar then asked, “Am I hurting you?”
“No. How long was I out?”
I could hear the pain and shame in his tone and upon hearing that something new bloomed in my chest—hatred. I’d never considered myself violent. Even though I wanted revenge for what happened to Kalee that was shrouded in justice.
But I’d heard Gabe ashamed for taking a beating that would’ve had anyone else begging for it to stop, yet he’d remained silent with the occasional grunt.
Occasional grunt.
My strong-in-control-at-all-times man barely grunted while he was beaten to shit.
Fuck no.
Hell no.
Extreme violence welled inside of me and I made a vow to gouge out the asshole’s eyeballs when he came back.
I didn’t tell Gabe any of that. I didn’t let on I heard what I heard. I did what I had to do and in a carefully measured