CYOA Page 105
The hunter tugs the... bandana? or whatever the fuck is in your mouth, and lets it fall around your neck.
You wait until he steps back to cry out as loud as you can-- "HELP!!! JOEL--"
And that's all you can manage before the man's fist connects with your face, knocking the wind out of you for a moment, and then you can't scream again because the gag is back in your mouth. You haven't been struck like that in a long time; you forgot how much it fucking hurts. But you knew the guy wasn't going to just stand there and let you scream, so it wasn't entirely unexpected. Hopefully it was worth it... if Joel's looking for me, or wondering if I'm alive... and my voice carried far enough...
"Stupid little bitch," the guy spits out. "Guess what -- you just made sure you won't be gettin' fed any time soon." He slams the door shut behind him.
You're alone again.
This makes no sense. What do they want with me?! Why don't they just kill me?
You have endless hours to contemplate these and many other questions as you struggle in vain to free yourself. And the time goes by so very slowly...
You realize it's actually not yet dark out, so you can't have been here more than a few hours, but it sure feels like longer. You thought the grayness meant it was closer to nighttime than it really is; it was only dark clouds, which are now emptying their contents. You watch the raindrops pelt the window. The window is crying. ...maybe it's doing all my crying for me? You haven't cried at all. Nor do you plan to.
Your head is throbbing, your face is stinging, your left eye is puffing over... your wrists are sore, but you think that's more from straining to free yourself than the bindings (they feel smooth, not like the rough, scratchy rope that you and Joel have). Your legs don't really hurt, but you're itching to stretch them out. Your jaw is sore, and your mouth is so fucking dry... it's not even bothering to generate saliva now. It must have figured out that the rag just soaks it up -- that there's no actual food here. Fuck, I'd even take one of those disgusting berries right now! It WAS juicy...
Ugh -- maybe you wouldn't, as the thought just made you realize you feel queasy.
You have odd random thoughts like "good thing I had a bathroom break right before this" and "glad we finished lunch first" -- like you even care if you piss yourself, or if you ever eat again. You can't deny that you're thirsty, but food, you can do without. You're feeding on pain and anxiety and fear... no room for real food.
You think it's the tremendous fear for Joel making you feel physically sick to your stomach. Thinking about him seems to increase your discomfort, unless you can manage to channel it into hope for rescue... Joel is OKAY and he will find me... he WILL... of course he will...
You've all but given up on the eavesdropping; you can't hear shit with the door closed. Just indistinct loud voices at times. Some raucous laughter. And shortly after the window stops crying, you hear the front door slamming. ...Of course that's not Joel -- if he was going to barge in, there'd be gunfire right after... The thrum of voices has stopped. Are they leaving me here? ...Is that good or bad?!
But you get the sense there's at least one guy still down there. And still, no one comes up to check on you.
You're starting to feel encouraged now because it seems the cord wrapped around your wrists might be loosening. You don't think it's your imagination... you keep wriggling your hands.
After like ten or fifteen more minutes, you're able to slide one very sore hand out of its prison, then the other -- yes! You pull out your gag and leave it around your neck; you're tempted to toss it aside, but you have next to nothing on you right now in terms of useful supplies, and you've learned it's best to be practical about such things... to keep your emotions and whims in check. If nothing else, you can wipe your ass with it later. Ha!
You quickly undo the bindings on your legs and stretch them out a bit before standing up. Then you try the doorknob, very slowly and quietly lest someone hear you: it's locked from the outside. Fuck! You were hoping that maybe the assholes would assume tying you up was good enough. Okay... now what??
You look out the window, your gaze following the spindly tree branches to their source: you think the tree is close enough that you might be able to jump to it from the window... but you're only on the second floor -- it might be safer to just lower yourself from the window as much as you can and drop. There's grass beneath you, not concrete, so that's a plus. You're sure you can avoid landing on your head, that you would survive this... but you're not so sure you could do so without injuring yourself.
However, your switchblade is miraculously still in your pocket! So another option would be to wait for someone to come check on you... hide behind the door and pounce when it opens. After all, they didn't take you to just leave you locked up in a room forever, right? Sooner or later, someone will be up. The problem with that is you're fucked if more than one someone comes up at once, or if the guy yells or makes a lot of noise and draws the others' attention. And you still have to escape the house afterward.
Still... that might be a better option than possibly breaking your foot or something... ugh... what would Joel do? you wonder. Probably figure out how to open the door. You pull your knife out and dick around with that option for about five minutes before declaring it hopeless. There's no keyhole for you to pick. Joel might try to break the door down, but you're afraid if you tried it, the only thing it would accomplish (aside from making more body parts sore) is announcing to the hunter(s?) downstairs that you've freed yourself from your bindings.
Back to reconsidering the first two options...
If you take your chances with the window, turn to page 181.
If you wait for someone to check on you so you can attack him, turn to page 186.