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Authors: Savita Kalhan
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on the diving board watching or larking about in the water waiting for him. Except there was no water below him, and no friends larking about.
He had to slow down, get a better grip on the cord and get his feet up against the wall before he slipped any further. He knew the theory. He had seen people abseiling down sheer cliffs and over the sides of tall buildings on TV – they had made it look so easy. But they usually had the advantage of safety harnesses and years of training and stuff, and Sam hadn't got any of those things. It was just him and the cord of some tatty old bathrobes, and if you considered that then he wasn't doing such a bad job. At least he wasn't afraid of heights because if he was he would be cowering in the corner of the bathroom listening to the man beating the door down instead of being a few minutes away from making good his escape.
He focussed his mind on climbing down the length of the cord and didn't notice the head sticking out of the window, watching him. When he glanced up, he panicked. His hand under hand technique on the cord went out of the window and he started slipping down too fast again. His feet lost their grip on the wall and scrambled madly through empty air, which must have made the cord start swinging to and fro and gather speed. Sam made his legs go still, but he couldn't control the momentum of the cord. It swung him way out and then back towards the wall and Sam couldn't stop it. He screamed as he went slamming into the wall with a sickening crunch.
The breath was knocked out of him and his whole side felt battered and bruised, but somehow he had managed to keep his grip on the cord. He looked up. The man was leering down at him; in his hands he held the cord.
'Hold tight,' he called down. 'This might hurt a bit!'
He swung Sam out again and there was nothing Sam could do about it except scream, and scream he did, as loud and for as long as he could. Surely someone would hear him. Maybe Lloyd would hear his friend in trouble and come rushing down to his rescue? No, Lloyd wasn't coming to his rescue; Lloyd wasn't feeling well. Remember? But why wasn't he feeling well? What was wrong with him? Was he getting his head smashed in? Crunch. Sam hit the wall again, but this time he'd got his leg out first, which lessened the impact a bit, but still knocked the breath out of him. He had to jump the rest of the way. He knew he did. Don't look down, he told himself, don't look down. Just do it.
But he did look down, and it was still a long way to the bottom. There were paving slabs that ran all the way round the house, which he hadn't noticed before. If he fell on them he'd crack his head open. He had to time it right.
'Ready for some more?' the man asked.
Sam knew it wasn't a question. The cord started swinging him to and fro, gaining momentum for a bigger impact against the wall. The man really didn't like him. He swung him in and out, in and out. The next one, Sam decided, the next one was the one. It would bring him out beyond the paving slabs, so that he landed in the bushes or on the grass.
Okay, Sam, get ready, he whispered to himself. This was it; this was the one. He counted one, two, three in his head and then let go of the cord.
'Aaaaagh!' he screamed, all the way down.
He plummeted, his arms flapping the air uselessly, and tumbled into a bush. He rolled as soon as he hit the bush, but ended up getting more and more entwined in its foliage, falling deeper into its heart. Clothes ripped, scratched, and bleeding, but alive and with no broken bones, he scrambled through the choking density of branches and leaves until he found a way out. But he didn't crawl out into the open, not yet. He lay very, very still and peered through the bush instead, his eyes searching for the bathroom window. He found it. The man was still holding the cord and looking down intently at the bush, scrutinising it. Sam stayed motionless, barely daring to breathe, waiting. Long moments passed until
He had to slow down, get a better grip on the cord and get his feet up against the wall before he slipped any further. He knew the theory. He had seen people abseiling down sheer cliffs and over the sides of tall buildings on TV – they had made it look so easy. But they usually had the advantage of safety harnesses and years of training and stuff, and Sam hadn't got any of those things. It was just him and the cord of some tatty old bathrobes, and if you considered that then he wasn't doing such a bad job. At least he wasn't afraid of heights because if he was he would be cowering in the corner of the bathroom listening to the man beating the door down instead of being a few minutes away from making good his escape.
He focussed his mind on climbing down the length of the cord and didn't notice the head sticking out of the window, watching him. When he glanced up, he panicked. His hand under hand technique on the cord went out of the window and he started slipping down too fast again. His feet lost their grip on the wall and scrambled madly through empty air, which must have made the cord start swinging to and fro and gather speed. Sam made his legs go still, but he couldn't control the momentum of the cord. It swung him way out and then back towards the wall and Sam couldn't stop it. He screamed as he went slamming into the wall with a sickening crunch.
The breath was knocked out of him and his whole side felt battered and bruised, but somehow he had managed to keep his grip on the cord. He looked up. The man was leering down at him; in his hands he held the cord.
'Hold tight,' he called down. 'This might hurt a bit!'
He swung Sam out again and there was nothing Sam could do about it except scream, and scream he did, as loud and for as long as he could. Surely someone would hear him. Maybe Lloyd would hear his friend in trouble and come rushing down to his rescue? No, Lloyd wasn't coming to his rescue; Lloyd wasn't feeling well. Remember? But why wasn't he feeling well? What was wrong with him? Was he getting his head smashed in? Crunch. Sam hit the wall again, but this time he'd got his leg out first, which lessened the impact a bit, but still knocked the breath out of him. He had to jump the rest of the way. He knew he did. Don't look down, he told himself, don't look down. Just do it.
But he did look down, and it was still a long way to the bottom. There were paving slabs that ran all the way round the house, which he hadn't noticed before. If he fell on them he'd crack his head open. He had to time it right.
'Ready for some more?' the man asked.
Sam knew it wasn't a question. The cord started swinging him to and fro, gaining momentum for a bigger impact against the wall. The man really didn't like him. He swung him in and out, in and out. The next one, Sam decided, the next one was the one. It would bring him out beyond the paving slabs, so that he landed in the bushes or on the grass.
Okay, Sam, get ready, he whispered to himself. This was it; this was the one. He counted one, two, three in his head and then let go of the cord.
'Aaaaagh!' he screamed, all the way down.
He plummeted, his arms flapping the air uselessly, and tumbled into a bush. He rolled as soon as he hit the bush, but ended up getting more and more entwined in its foliage, falling deeper into its heart. Clothes ripped, scratched, and bleeding, but alive and with no broken bones, he scrambled through the choking density of branches and leaves until he found a way out. But he didn't crawl out into the open, not yet. He lay very, very still and peered through the bush instead, his eyes searching for the bathroom window. He found it. The man was still holding the cord and looking down intently at the bush, scrutinising it. Sam stayed motionless, barely daring to breathe, waiting. Long moments passed until
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