Her phone displayed an incoming call.It was Darren. Chelsea peeked out the bathroom door and heard the sound of her husbands snoring. She shut the doo..., locked it and answered the call.“Did you get my messages Chelsea?”“What the fuck do you want.” She hissed, trying not to speak too loudly.“Just wanted your opinion. Do you think those pictures would be better on Facebook or Instagram. Or how about Twitter?”“Delete those pictures now.” She demanded.“No.” Darren said. A small word, but with heavy. With a tug of his legs, his growing fear was confirmed, his legs were bound as well. He was sitting upright, presumably in a chair. He tried rocking back and forth to upset the chair in hopes that he could squirm his way out of the tightly bound rope once he was on the floor, but the chair would not move, even a fraction of an inch. It felt as solid as bedrock, and he could only assume that it was bolted to the floor. At first he didn’t notice the sound as he tried to shake off the delirium he. More

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