GreyLord wrote: ↑3 years ago
You just have to love Freya. She will take a break for a little bit. Then she is back looking for an opportunity. Can't say she will find one. But she is looking.
Thanks a lot! Yeah, Freya is a bit stubborn sometimes.
Tieup1 wrote: ↑3 years ago
Freya will have to use all her skills, and cunning ways to out smart these guys. The knife will be tempting, but is it worth the risk ?
I do not see which risk there would be for Freya. Even if she fails, would the men punish her even further?
iliketights wrote: ↑3 years ago
Somehow I missed the beginning of this story, but I sure loved catching up. This is great. I can't wait to find out if she ever reaches the knife!
iliketights wrote: ↑3 years ago
“They do, but I have been tied tighter and for longer. The casting consisted of being tied to a chair for 8 hours. That really isn’t the problem.”
"It had not been the first time she had been tied for so long. For years, her older sister had tied her to her bed at night, and her scout troop had pranked each other with long and dangerous ties. Her last boyfriend had hung her upside down on top of a 50-feet flagpole and only released her when she agreed to go out to the fancy pizza place with him."
“She spent half her youth in these forests and has been tied up plenty of times. She’s a perfect victim for this experiment.
******************
Even these casually tossed out lines send my head spinning. I would love to read a novel-length book about Freya's past experiences! This is a great story.
Thanks a lot for your comments! I try to include these detailsed mini-stories exactly for that reason, so I am glad you enjoy them. Unfortunately, there won't be any more tales of Freya besides this story. Sometimes it is better to let the head wander than to tell it things explicitely!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sight of the knife pumped vast amounts of adrenaline through Freya’s veins. She needed a plan but instead almost panicked. A dreadful strategy, as she had to calm down, wait until the men had fallen asleep, and not arouse any suspicion she had spotted a potential mistake. Her ankles were cuffed together, and she lay between two poles made of fallen pine trees to which her hands were secured at hip height.
“Think, Freya, use that small, smooth brain of yours for once,” Freya muttered to herself before fiddling with her fingers among the ropes’ ends. In the morning, her captors had stated it had surprised them she had tried nothing that night. So instantly falling asleep could make them wary.
Of course, any attempt was useless. Roman and Finley would call Freya’s bluff as her fingers could not reach the knots, and the knots would not undo themselves. In response, she pulled her knees up, so her feet could slip under towards her hands, and by doing so, allowed much cold air to enter the shelter. At least her feet warmed up under her bottom.
“What ya doin’?” Roman yawned, turning around, and Freya saw the white in his eyes near hers. The closer, the better.
“Earning myself a 10k scholarship,” Freya answered nonchalantly.
“You know you have to escape us as well and not only the ropes, do you?”
“Yes, I do, but this is a proof of concept,” Freya replied as her back curled for her right feet reached her right wrist.
“Are you succeeding?”
Freya laughed as she recognized how hopeless it was to untie a tensioned knot with her dirty, almost frozen feet. “What answer would convince you the most to fall asleep? Yes, no, I don’t know, or you’ll see that tomorrow?”
It took Roman a moment to come up with a snarky reply. “All four would be equally good, but listing them makes me the most sceptical.”
Freya had her answer ready. “Then I assume you will lay awake all night, wasting all your energy for tomorrow.”
“Bind her bloody ankles to the trees,” Finley shouted from the other side of the shelter.
Roman turned around and grabbed the leash they had used that morning. “I would lay flat out if I were you. Sleeping with twisted knees won’t be an improvement.”
“Please, at least give me a chance,” Freya pleaded. “It’s hard enough already. Allow me to try, okay? Doesn’t make an underdog story your series even better?”
“Eh, yes,” Roman admitted. “But the underdog should not be so stupid to beg for sympathy. She has to earn it. Now get some sleep.”
Freya settled down and beamed in the darkness. Roman winded the vine around the right pole and her right ankle, finishing the knot outside her reach. She barely noted the extra bounds, lay down, and regulated her breathing as if she was sleeping. First, Freya silently counted to 200, noting it made her dozy. Sheep counting was a terrible method to stay awake. Roman and Finley’s breath was periodic, but it had been only a few minutes. They lay perfectly still, and Freya assumed they had learned to fall asleep in an instant in the military.
To be sure, she visualized the scene of her explaining her adventures to her boyfriend in her head to pass some more time. She envisioned herself in her leather straitjacket he got her for her birthday as he leaned against her body, feeding her peanuts as she talked. She had done so countless times before to explain intricate school work to herself and test whether she understood it.
“You aren’t asleep, are you?” Roman asked an hour later. “Yesterday, your head moved a lot more.”
Freya ignored him and concentrated on her breath.
“And you almost jumped up while I said that. You think I’m naive? Come on, Freya, what’s your plan?”
Freya cursed to herself. “Hope and pray. Tomorrow is the last day, and a daytime escape is unlikely. Even if I untie myself, I cannot outrun you. I have zero chances to win if I won’t succeed tonight.”
“You truly sound like my little sister. She always wants to win and remains cheerful and optimistic, no matter the setback in the most perilous, hopeless situations. You two should meet one time. She’s as crazy as you are and would not escape this. I got some experience under my belt. Tell me your plan. I will not obstruct you any further.”
“Promise?”
“Promised.”
Freya whirled around, almost bumping into Roman, who had edged closer. “That vine around my leg might be breakable with enough grinding. It’s no real rope.”
Roman laughed and called her foolish. “I’m off to bed, but between the two of us, you’ll get paid and receive a good chunk of that scholarship either way. Don’t worry too much about escaping. Your attempts were spectacular already.”
“Thanks, but I try either way,” Freya spoke truthfully. Only her possible approach differed. Roman wished her a good night as she began rubbing the vine against the rough tree with fresh courage. That tactic had failed in the afternoon, but Freya had no intention to let it succeed tonight. She only had to appear to have the perseverance for Roman to give up and fall asleep.
On paper, the plan was idiotic. There was almost no movement in the vine as Freya’s leg was too close to the wood. It would require thousands of grinds while her leg would be plastered with minor wounds. Freya took the fallen tree in her hands to stabilize it and found a rhythm of swinging her ankles back and forth.
Freya lost track of time and the count of her strokes against the resilient plant. It did not break while the tree’s bark got smoother and more damaged, lessening the friction. Even though this made it possible to make longer strokes, the vine got not further harmed. Yet, Freya pushed on and on, unknowing whether it was still necessary.
Then, out of nowhere, the tensions around her ankles decreased, and Freya pulled her ankles aside: The vine had snapped. “Roman,” she whispered. “I succeeded. That scholarship will be mine. Thanks for not believing in me.”
Freya’s heart pounded as she counted to ten as Roman did not respond. Then her bound hand slowly bent outward and touched Roman’s trousers, which he still wore. He had no issues showing off his perfect upper body, but sleeping next to Freya in only his underwear went too far. Freya searched the small area her hand could reach and could touch the leader scabbard of Roman’s knife.
“Come on, come on,” she gasped as the ropes cut into her wrists. She popped the snap button of the scabbard open but could not touch the knife itself. “Please…”
As if her prayers were heard, Roman rolled closer, and Freya’s nails touched the fine rosewood of the handle. She pushed against it and moved the blade outward inch by inch. Every little sound she made let her pause and pray. Then, finally, the knife dropped out, and Freya caught the sharp end, fully aware of the risk. Then she tilted it upward and let it drop, clutching the handle. Then, in one movement, she cut her left wrist free before releasing her other wrist and ankles as well. For good measure, the ropes were completely cut into tiny pieces. Even if they recaptured her, she could not be bound.
Freya crawled out of the shelter into the cold, windy, mountain top night and beamed radiantly.
“Shit,” Freya cursed as she stood there in her thin nightdress on her bare feet. Her plan had not encompassed any further than this. Sean had stated she had to escape Finlay and Roman too, and that waking up next to them would not count: Then they would recapture her. Freya needed to be creative to help her through the long night.