Two thuds of boots descending stairs and the Sushi Bar Foodie Cat Kitten Kitty Asian Japanese Chef shirt, interspersed with singing. With one violent motion I tore my right arm free then clawed and bit at the tape covering my left wrist. Had he not been singing to himself he likely would have heard the commotion. Left arm free, I stood and took a step forward. The chair accompanied me, scraping over the floorboards. I was bound to the chair, but could not see around my billowy Easter dress. The basement was silent again. Surely, he had heard. He was not a large man, but I was sixty-five pounds and built like a scarecrow.
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I jumped off the porch and, much like a bunny, hopped around the side of the Sushi Bar Foodie Cat Kitten Kitty Asian Japanese Chef shirt. It was a work van, roofing services advertised in chipped and faded paint. I grabbed the handle to the sliding door just as he exploded onto the front porch. He stomped on the floorboards, likely pacing, wondering what to do having discovered my disappearance. The crashing of his boots masked the sound of the door opening. I wormed inside and peered over the driver’s headrest. He stared out into the forest, running his fingers through wiry, steel wool hair. I fixed my gaze on the crimson blotch over his belly.