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Your stomach growls angrily, reminding you to conserve your strength.  You haven't eaten today but you are thankful for the nourishment that you have been allowed.  You will need every ounce of strength in you to take on your captor.  He is not a small man. You will have to catch him by surprise if you have any hope at all of overpowering him.  Your mind races with possible ways to escape but you know in your heart that no amount of planning will prepare you for the battle to come.  You remind yourself not to lock into a specific plan.  This is going to be a moment by moment execution, and every moment could be your last.  You position yourself back in your spot on the floor so as to not arise any suspicion.  You sit with your legs in front of you, bent at the knees and folded to the side. Knees to the left and feet to the right, positioning yourself to be able to roll forward onto your knees for a hasty retreat.   You place the hammer under your right leg, on the floor in the fold between your calf and thigh.   You turn the hammer so the head is facing behind you.  You place your hand palm down n the handle, positioning yourself for and easy sweeping grab when he hopefully bends down to bring you the rations.  Usually he just slides them over but occassionally he has brought them directly to you and placed them at your feet, usually when he brings you water.   You want to be ready for any and all possiblilities.   You place the wire on your left side within reach of your left hand, just in case you are faced with a different scenario, although you are certain that the small rusty hammer is going to be your salvation.  You position yourself carefully, tucked away in your little corner of hell, checking and double checking your position to ensure that neither the hammer nor the wires are visible. You slide your hands into the cuffs up to the first knuckles, feigning entrapment, and wait.  You have no problem sitting here for hours, lying in wait for your prey,  This is your chance.  You sit there on the cold concrete floor unphased by the dank wet room.  Your eyes stare, fixated on the dirty brass knob.  You sit steadily with a determination that only the promise of a life and death struggle can bring forth.  Finally, the moment of truth.  You hear a click in the distance followed by faint foot steps.  They draw closer and closer.  As the steps grow louder, the adrenaline begins to course through your body, building to a fury about to be unleashed.  You maintain your poise, feeling the power and hatred creeping into the back of your throat like an acrid poison  The space heater clicks on and begins to hum.  You don't even flinch.  The brass door knob begins to glow, underlit by the warm orange glow reflecting off the still wet floor.  You stare hard at the knob.  The little brass knob moves slightly as he unlocks it.  You hear the lock click and the door begins to open.  

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