They didn't. Well... I mean, I don't know. I could simply be terrible at this. Anyway, for me, they surely didn't. I also don't know how long it's been — don't exactly have a clock — but I've been trying for what felt like the better part of an hour. Honestly, I wish I had paid more attention to those lockpicking tutorials on the internet back then...

This might be impossible with only two nails, I thought. Taking out the remaining ones from the chair, and spending some precious energy bending one, I started working again. No success. I couldn't even fit all of them in there at the same time. Did this work more like a police handcuff and less like a padlock? How was I supposed to... Ugh, not good. I could feel myself slightly panicking, the blood rising to my face. Stopping and focusing on my breathing for a few moments, I calmed myself down. I needed to focus, not panic.

Should I try yelling again? No, too risky now. If someone came and saw that I got my hands free, I might get in trouble. Should I cut myself somewhere? Use blood to ease my way out of these cuffs? Was that even possible? If the sweat wasn't helping then I wasn't sure blood would be effective. Forget it; it didn't seem like a viable solution anyway. I needed to explore all my options...

Looking around the dark room, my eyes paused on the broken chair's leg. This was it. I'd been too tunnel-visioned; too focused on that dumb lockpicking idea. I shouldn't have restricted myself to finesse when brute strength was also an option.

A plan formed in my mind. Checking the chains connecting to the cuffs, I realized, unfortunately, that there was no way I'd have enough strength to break a normal chain link. They were too sturdy. I would need a tiny bit of luck to escape.

After picking up the wooden chair leg, I gathered all the straight nails and started examining the chain links more closely. I was betting on at least one of them being too old. From the feel of the ground and the smell of the air, this place was ancient — abandoned. There had to be a way to exploit that somehow: a rusted component, a damaged part, anything.

A while later, I'd found a promising target. One link had a tiny chink on it, a faint crack along its surface. Putting one of the nails against the weak spot, I got the wooden leg and started hammering away with all my strength.

'Bang, bang, bang...'

"Man, this is going to take a while."

*****

One hour of constant hitting and physical effort later... 'Clack'. YES. Finally! Just when I was about to give up and start thinking of another method, one of the links got deformed enough that it snapped. My right leg was free, and I could move around the room. I suppressed a shout of joy that threatened to burst from my throat and let out a sigh of relief instead.

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"Okay, first one down, another one to go."

Moving to the other chain, I examined it closely. It connected directly to the wall and didn’t seem very sturdy. After spotting a promising weak link, I went back to grab the nails and one of the chair legs. Using the wood as a makeshift hammer, I hammered away until I heard that blissful "clack" again. Yeah, that’s my new favorite sound.

With both legs free — though the ankle cuffs were still there — I paced around the room. It was empty, with nothing noteworthy on the walls. The ground, however, was littered with dried bloodstains, especially near the corners. "Not creepy at all," I murmured. Leaving was certainly the right decision; all evidence pointed to this place being a torture chamber of some sort.

I turned my attention to the steel door behind me. It looked heavy and old, just as I imagined a solitary confinement door would. Testing my luck, I pushed it open and realized it was... open?

Weird. After taking a deep breath, I peeked through the narrow opening. A gray wall loomed right in front of me. Glancing around, I saw that I was in a dimly lit corridor. I stayed still, straining to hear any sounds. Nothing. It seemed I was alone.

Looking around once more to be sure, I opened the door wider and stepped into the hallway. It was time to make a decision: right or left?

I took a right and started walking, being careful to make as little noise as possible. The hallway was cold, but considerably more humid than the chamber I was in. That was a good sign. As I moved through the darkness, chains dragging on the ground, I spotted a heavy steel door to my right. Another cell, I thought to myself.

Should I open it? There could be someone trapped in there. The safest option was probably to ignore it, but I had to check, just in case. Besides, I could be wrong — this could be the way out.

I pressed my ear against the cold, dirty door. Silence. Slowly, I opened it and sneaked a peek inside. There was someone in there, chained, back facing the entrance.

"Hey," I whispered. No response. The girl was hanging limply in the center of the room. Unlike me, all her limbs were bound by chains, and she wasn't sitting down but was instead being held up by her manacles. I did not like this. She was too unresponsive — no twitching, no signs of life.

I stepped into the room and walked towards her. Had she been whipped? Tortured? The ground was painted red and the smell inside was vile. I walked towards her and called out.

"Hey, Hello? Are you okay? Hey, can you hear me?"

Again, no response. I examined her bindings. Same style as the ones on my feet. I could probably break hers using the same method. Should I go back to my cell and grab the nails?

I quickly double-backed, deciding it was worth the hassle. I took everything in my cell back with me: the rope, the nails, and one chair leg as an improvised weapon.

While walking back through the dark hallway, however, I started pondering: Should I really waste my time on this random girl? I am not going to be able to carry her, and if she doesn't wake up... Damn, I forgot to check her pulse. Was she even alive? Quickly, I retraced my steps and entered her cell again. Putting two fingers on the side of her neck, I searched for a pulse. Oh, thank god. She was alive.

Actually, I should've checked if she was breathing, probably faster.

I took some distance and looked at her. Her hair was in an irregular buzz-cut and she was visibly hurt.

Everything was still so confusing. I was stressed and fear was clouding my reasoning. I had to focus.

A few seconds later, I came to a decision: I couldn't waste time here — not when I didn’t even know what was happening yet. I felt a pang of guilt, but I had to get away from this place. Someone had to call the authorities.

The fact that it took me this long to arrive at such an obvious choice worried me. The stress was taking a bigger toll on my decision-making than I’d expected.