Sweet Hatred Chapter 468: Attempt

ARIA’S POV

Ti moved strangely when you were terrified.

Hours felt like days. Minutes felt like seconds.

I’d lost track of how long I’d been here.

How long since Sarah had drugged at the hotel. Since I’d woken up tied to this chair in this concrete prison with no windows and no hope.

My body ached everywhere.

Wrists raw from the zip-ties cutting into my skin. Ankles burning from the rope. My back screaming from sitting in the sa position for so long.

But the physical pain was nothing compared to the fear.

The constant, gnawing terror that sothing would happen to the baby.

That I’d already lost them and didn’t even know it yet.

That all the chloroform and stress and violence had already done irreversible damage.

I forced myself to breathe slowly. To stay calm.

Panicking wouldn’t help.

Panicking would only make things worse.

I thought about Kael.

He was looking for . I knew he was.

He’d move heaven and earth to find . Would use every resource at his disposal. Would never stop searching.

I just had to survive long enough for him to succeed.

And maybe... maybe... I could still reason with Sarah.

We’d been friends for over seven years. That had to count for sothing.

Underneath all the obsession and rage and twisted love, there had to be so part of the Sarah I’d known. The Sarah who’d held when I cried. Who’d stayed up all night helping study. Who’d been there for through every heartbreak and disappointnt.

That Sarah was still in there sowhere.

She had to be.

The door opened.

I flinched instinctively, my body tensing.

Sarah walked in carrying plastic bags, her expression distant. Distracted.

She crossed to and roughly pulled the gag down from my mouth.

I gasped, working my jaw, the relief imdiate and overwhelming.

"Sarah..."

"I need to go out for supplies," she interrupted, not looking at . "I’ll be back in ten minutes. Maybe less. Behave yourself."

"Wait, Sarah, please..."

"I don’t want to hear it, Aria."

"Just listen to for one second..."

"No." She turned to face , her expression hard. "You had your chance to talk. To understand. And you made it very clear how you feel about . So now you’re just going to sit here and be quiet until I get back."

"Sarah..."

But she was already walking toward the door.

"Don’t do anything stupid," she said without looking back. "I’d hate for you to hurt yourself. Or the baby."

The threat was clear.

The door slamd shut behind her.

The lock clicked.

And I was alone.

For a long mont, I just sat there, breathing hard, my heart racing.

Then my survival instincts kicked in.

This was my chance.

Maybe my only chance.

I looked around the room frantically, searching for anything I could use.

The concrete walls were bare. No windows. No furniture except the chair I was tied to and the tal crate Sarah had used earlier to hold the birthday cake.

The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, too high to reach even if my hands were free.

Think, Aria. Think.

I tested the restraints again.

The zip-ties around my wrists were tight... painfully tight... cutting into my skin every ti I moved. No way to slip out of them.

But the rope around my ankles...

I twisted my feet experintally.

The rope was rough, tied in what looked like a hasty knot. Not as secure as the zip-ties.

If I could just loosen it enough...

I started working my ankles, twisting and pulling, ignoring the burn.

The rope shifted slightly.

Not much. But enough to give hope.

Keep going. Keep going.

I twisted harder, feeling the fibers start to give.

But it wasn’t enough.

Even if I got my ankles free, I’d still be zip-tied to the chair.

I looked at the chair itself... old, wooden, rickety. One of the legs was already loose, wobbling every ti I shifted my weight.

An idea ford.

Dangerous. Possibly stupid.

But it might work.

I started rocking.

Gently at first, testing how much movent I could generate.

The chair creaked ominously.

I rocked harder.

The loose leg scraped against the concrete floor.

Harder.

The chair tilted, and for a terrifying second I thought I was going to fall face-first onto the concrete.

But I caught my balance, the chair slamming back down.

My heart hamred against my ribs.

Co on. Co on.

I rocked again, throwing my weight to the side with as much force as I could manage.

The chair tilted farther this ti.

The loose leg splintered.

Again.

CRACK.

The leg broke.

I crashed to the side, my shoulder hitting the concrete hard enough to make cry out.

But I didn’t care.

Because the chair was breaking.

I lay there for a second, gasping, pain shooting through my shoulder.

Then I started moving again.

The chair was on its side now, one leg completely broken off.

I used my bound feet to push against the floor, dragging myself and the damaged chair toward the tal crate.

Every movent sent jolts of pain through my body.

But I kept going.

Had to keep going.

The tal crate had sharp edges where the old paint had chipped away. Rusty. Jagged.

Perfect.

I maneuvered myself until my zip-tied wrists were pressed against the edge.

Then I started sawing.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

The plastic bit into my skin, drawing blood.

I ignored it.

Back and forth.

Please. Please work.

The zip-tie started to fray.

Yes.

I sawed harder, faster, desperation making reckless.

Co on co on co on...

The plastic snapped.

My hands were free.

I sobbed with relief, bringing my hands in front of for the first ti in hours.

They were covered in blood... from the zip-ties, from the sawing... but they worked.

I imdiately went for the rope around my ankles, my fingers shaking so badly I could barely grip the knot.

Focus. Focus.

I picked at it, loosening the loops, pulling it free.

The rope fell away.

I was free.

Actually free.

I tried to stand and imdiately collapsed, my legs giving out.

They’d been bound too long. The circulation cut off.

Pins and needles shot through my calves as blood rushed back.

I gritted my teeth against the pain and tried again.

This ti I made it to my feet, leaning heavily against the tal crate.

The door.

I had to get to the door.

I stumbled toward it, my legs weak and unsteady, nearly falling twice.

But I made it.

Grabbed the handle.

Pulled.

Locked.

Of course it was locked.

I tried anyway, yanking harder, throwing my weight against it.

Nothing.

Think. Think.

I looked around for sothing... anything... I could use to break the lock.

The broken chair leg.

I grabbed it, went back to the door, and started hamring at the lock chanism.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The wood splintered with each hit, but the lock held.

I hit it again.

Again.

Please...