This choice: taken to the locker room,where the zipper opens- It's game day! • Go Back...Chapter #6Ankle Weighing by: Bird   The bag's zipper is flung open with no warning, flooding your world with the light and sound that had been blocked. Still, your view was pretty much blocked by the other side of the sock and you were still heavily restrained, so it wasn't much like your situation had changed.
Rebecca's voice came crashing down from above, dreadfully loud on your tiny little eardrums. "Hey Abby, this is your first time in the finals, right?"
A voice from further away, softer and more timid than Rebecca's forceful words, replied, "Uh, yeah, I guess it is."
Shit, you thought. This is gonna be an intense game. I don't want to be a part of it!
You tune out the rest of Rebecca and Abby's conversation, focused on struggling free. With fresh air flooding in from above you feel hopeful that you can make it. And, just as one arm is starting to feel a bit lose, Rebecca's fingers shove themselves in, her thumb pushing you into the rancid fabric.
Muffled but still clear, Rebecca says, "Lucky socks, Abby. Wash em at the start of the season, and then not until we've taken home the championship title."
You gag, thinking of how long this sweat has been stewing here, but Rebecca interrupts you again as she pushes her feet into the crusty socks. You fear for a second that as her toes slide past you they'll grab ahold and tug you into the briney depths, but they inch past, and you are instead dragged along the whole length of Rebecca's instep. She let's go of the sock, and you find yourself vertically pressed against her ankle.
The next couple minutes are a blur, as Rebecca slips into her shoes and joins her team on the court. But, as you vaguely listen to the announcements hype up the start of the game, you realize you can move your left arm. It must have come free when the sock was slid on! Instantly you begin twisting against Rebecca's ankle, tugging at the other worn strands that held you.
But, what will this accomplish? What if, the moment you slip free you lose your grip and slide down the sock, where Rebecca's waiting steps will turn you to mush. And even if you do climb out, what then? You'll be free, sure, but you'll also be a speck alongside the crushing steps of two basketball teams. Neither is exactly ideal, so maybe you should just stay-
A drop of sweat, having descended the long, pale expanse of Rebecca's calf, dropped onto your head. Caught off guard, you kick and struggle for air, and to your horror the rest of the bonds that held you snapped, leaving you lose and dangling to Rebecca's ankle with no support.
Shit.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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