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And I feel like an idiot.

I didn’t believe in God.

I’ve never believed that some benevolent being’s watching over us. Even if he exists, I’ve never been one of the creatures he loved or cared about. So why am I so depressed that he didn’t save me?

I don’t even bother using the pole to slide the blindfold down. What’s the point? It’s not like I’ll see anything helpful.

But then I hear a car.

A car, driving by on this Godforsaken stretch of road. I’m desperate to get the blindfold off, but by the time I do, the car’s so far away there’s no way it could possibly see me.

Rage floods my body, and I want to scream.

Instead, I kick the pole.

That hurts like a nail through my toe, which was just more idiocy on my part. But when I look down at my bare foot, I realize that right next to it, there’s a clothespin.

How much time have I wasted?

My pulse beats in my ears. I shove the clothespin up with my toes, but I can’t quite get it up to the top. It falls, and now it’s farther away than it was before.

I bite off my swear words, and focus.

Please, God, let me get this clothespin up here.

Every second that ticks by feels like an hour. I drop the clothes pin again, but then I have an idea. If I lift my hands up and hang from them, I can bring my foot up much farther. . .

My abs scream. My shoulders cry. My heart races pell-mell.

But I make it.

I manage to get the clothespin right up to my fingers, and I nearly drop it a third time. But I don’t. I almost crack a tooth freeing the metal part from the wood, but then it’s out, and my hands are trembling as I work to pick the stupid lock in the handcuffs. I almost drop the pin twice, because trying to pick a lock with handcuffed hands is way, way harder. But I’m finally doing something I’ve practiced before.

A life of idiocy has prepared me for this.

Then I hear Boris’s footsteps, coming back in my direction, the hose water splashing next to the steps as if nothing’s wrong at all.

I’m still in cuffs.

He’s some crazy electric shock person, and he’ll fry me if he catches me trying to escape. I found the clothespin, but it’s too late. I’m doomed anyway.

But then the mechanism in the lock catches, and I’ve freed one hand. I’ll have to worry about the other one later. I need to run as fast as I can. Which direction?

I’m vacillating, first left, then right, when I hear it.

Boris’s phone is ringing.

“Hang on,” he says. “Lemme turn off this water.” He’s just around the corner.

I shove my blindfold down and throw my hands up, hoping he won’t notice that I’m free.

My breaths are coming quick and shallow, and my hands and arms are trembling like mad, but Boris shuts off the water, tosses the hose to the ground, and marches back toward the hut. “Yeah, but this place is a dump, I’m telling you. Even in town, there’s not a single decent place to eat.”

And then he’s gone again—back inside the hut.

He just left me here.

God is good. God loves me. I tear my blindfold off and start to run, heading to the right because it looks like there are more trees I might hide behind in that direction. Also, the car came from there. Maybe there’s another house close. Maybe they’d take me to the police.