TIME by Kathi Harris

TIME by Kathi Harris - Sept 17, 2010

When I woke up again, it was night but not dark. Moonlight streamed through the window, its pale yellow light welcomed me. It replaced the sun's orange radiance that had bid me farewell as I drifted off to sleep again. The moonlight had none of the sun's warmth. I was cold. Shivering, I hugged myself. I was suddenly very thirsty, my throat felt parched. Licking my dry lips, I tried to swallow. But I could not generate enough saliva to help me even in this small endeavor. I needed some water badly.

How much time had I lost, a day, some hours? I couldn't dwell on that now. What was most important at this time, in this place, was the fact that I was still alive. I felt okay. The horrendous headache was gone, as was the nausea. I was clear-headed and strong enough now to find a way out for Jill and I.

As I readied myself to sit up, I studied the window, and then the wall in which the window was set. My eyes took in the cracks and peeling paint on the wall. I hoped that the panes of glass in the window would be easy to break. I prayed that this room was no higher than the second or third floor, giving easy access to the ground.

I turned my head, and the movement not only caused me to scratch my cheek painfully on the prickly carpeting, but released a smell to my too close nostrils that made me retch. "Euwww!" I groaned in disgust, slowly pushing myself up to a sitting position. I leaned against the wall. Sitting there for a couple of beats, I waited for the queasiness to set in, but it didn't.

I got to my feet unsteadily, using the wall to aid me in this quest. I still felt all right even from this great height, just a little shaky. If I fell, this foul smelling carpet would at least cushion my fall a little bit. I hesitantly started to walk around the room, looking for the door. I kept close to the wall, my shoulder bumping it constantly, gratefully. The wall was the much needed friend I could lean on. I had found a new buddy. My shoulder found the door before I saw it. I stopped in my tracks.

Saying a prayer, I turned the knob as noiselessly as I could. I pushed the door then pulled it. I tried again, and again, and again. It was all for naught, the door didn't budge. I slid down the wall and sat on the floor, so disappointed, I burst into tears. After awhile, my sobbing lost its intensity and tapered off to shuddering breaths, and then I was quiet. I reasoned with myself, speaking almost inaudibly so as not to alert my kidnappers of my newly awakened status.

"You didn't really expect the door to be open did you? You hoped they would have made that mistake, you prayed they would have, but you didn't expect it. So calm down! Just calm yourself down! Remember there's always the window if all else fails. What's your plan now, where do you go from here?"

"I guess I could try to find something to open the door." I said, my speech hitching between shuddering breaths.

"There you have it then, that's a good plan! That's an excellent plan!"

It didn't seem at all strange that I was having this dialogue with myself. In fact I was glad for the company. I continued excitedly, but quietly."I have seen it done in the movies and on TV a bunch of times. How difficult could it be? They use a credit card to open one type of lock, for others, it's a straightened out paper clip or a hair pin."

Pumped up by this plan, I started another circuit of the room. Because my prison was empty, I figured that my search would not take long. after all, I would not have to look under, or on top of furniture. I moved away from the wall and started walking two steps to the right, then two steps to the left. I dragged my feet on the carpet as I walked, looking at the floor as closely as I could with the help of the moonlight. I was hoping to kick something that I could use to try to open that door. I didn't think I would be finding any credit cards on this floor. My bet was on a nice shiny paper clip or something of that ilk.

I had almost walked the length of the room when I stepped on something that made me pause. By the light of the moon I could see it was some kind of wire. I bent for a closer look, and saw to my delight that it was a wire hanger. Picking it up with shaking hands, I walked with shakier legs the few steps to my friend the wall. Again sliding down this sturdy buttress until I was sitting, I leaned my back comfortably, companionably, against it. And for a minute or two, I just sat there, breathing deeply, letting the tears of relief escape from my eyes and wet my cheeks, and allowing the moonlight to bathe my face. The means to my salvation - mine and Jill's, the key to our escape was clutched tightly in my hands.

- copyrighted by Kathi Harris

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