by Brianna G. Harte
PREVIOUSLY, ON “THE KNIGHT OF XEO”
Well, I’ve made it this far. Might as well continue.
I was on high alert for every passing minute as I squirmed. If the doctor were to come in before I was free, I did not want to know what was to follow. Then again, I had no plan on how to search the halls without noticing him if I did manage to get free. I supposed that planning ahead was not part of who I was, seeing as I somehow got into this mess in the first place and I did not believe a word that came from the doctor’s mouth about any disasters.
One more quarter to go.
My heart began to beat so loud that I could hear it in my head. The pounding would possibly cause complications in hearing the doctor should he return, but I could not help my nerves. So close to freedom.
I was almost out too. However, my luck couldn’t be that great. The needles stuck in my arm got caught on one of the straps that had held me to the table. When I attempted to continue my escape, the rolling stand to which the bag of liquid was attached began to lean and fall. I winced at the pain of the needle both turning at an angle and being ripped out of my arm. Discomfort swelled up my arm. No doubt I would have a large bruise later. And that was only one of two problems. Once the stand fell to the floor, I started to hear voices nearby, one of which was definitely the doctor. Inside my head, I seethed and cried out against the medical device as I wiggled even harder to get off of the table.
Just as I came off the table, the door began to open. In a quick scan of the room, I found that there was one vent, one door, and no curtains, and unless I could somehow conceal myself beneath the table I was just on, I found that there was nowhere for me to hide. Desperate, I crawled beneath the table and did my best to inch up its legs. While difficult, it was easier than I expected. The door had to have been fully opened by the time I reached the top of the table. As I lay there, the crook of my arm ached. There was certainly blood beginning to ooze from the opening created by the needle.
Please don’t notice me. Please don’t notice me.
Copyright © 2017 Brianna G. Harte. All rights reserved.