Within seconds, Father took out a long wire from the back of his pants and slashed it down onto one of William's legs.

"No, please!" yelled William as he grabbed his leg in pain.

Down came another blow to the same leg, even harder than the last. William grabbed onto it, writhing and letting out a sharp yelp.

"Please stop!" William said through his gritted teeth.

"No dinner tonight." said Father.

Almost as quick as the two painful lashes, the door slammed shut, Father was gone, and William was left alone on his bed. He was left there that night on his bed made of planks. No one and nothing to help him through the pain, William held the skin around the bloodied welts on his thigh, the warm sensation of blood trickling down his leg and over his hands.

"Oh God." said William, tears running into his mouth and sweat beading from his forehead.

Holding his leg, head slouched down over his skinny chest, he could only wish for the pain to subside as quickly as possible. The only way to deal with pain in that room was just that; to deal with it.

The first two days after the beating, William didn't move much. He rested and waited for the wounds on his leg to heal enough to walk without risking the cuts opening or getting infected. On the third day, after some scabbing had begun to form and the pain was less intrusive, it was time to begin working on his plan.

First, he knew he had to get the nail completely out of the ground. He started prying at it with the table as he had done before. He knew the sounds would alert Father so he would give it a few tries every other hour.

"Great plans take time." He thought.

The nail was much longer than average but it must have been at least halfway out of the floor. The nail had to be used as a weapon, but the question was how he would conceal it and how he would wield it when the time came. Father would search the room and most likely he would search William. The planks? Perhaps. Though he was sure that Father would search the room thoroughly the next time the rummager decided to rummage. Finding the leaf is one thing but a nail? No way could he chance that.

What was he to do? The feeling of his heart pumping beneath his shirt made him all too aware of his own mortality. How could he ever hope to stand up to Father? What would he hope to gain, a normal life? Whatever that meant. A nail to the heart seemed appropriate but he wondered if the target was the correct one. It was these thoughts that were hard to bottle up. He knew Father deserved it, but it seemed easier to use it on himself. No more pain, loneliness, or worry. Though these thoughts were often fleeting, they brought an awful lot of pain along with them.

Hadn't Father raised him? Hadn't he taught him everything he knew? Of course the abuse had to be kept in mind. But even so, was it for his own protection? He wondered if that was simply the price to be paid for food and water. For all he knew, it wasn't any better beyond those walls; through that damn hole that he dreamed of climbing out of one day. Had he done something to deserve being locked in that room? If so, he remembered no longer. The wire with its vicious welting whipped into his mind.

"No. I don't deserve this. How could I?" He thought.

He looked around the room. He knew that he couldn't risk hiding the nail in his clothes and then being caught by Father in such a close proximity to each other. He wondered about the possibility of somehow using his sheets as a blindfold. Not for use on himself of course, but on Father. The sheets themselves may be too large but the pillowcase could work. The plan was risky. In fact, it was so incredibly risky that William thought himself insane to even consider it. Yet, it was all he had, and it was the only way out of there as far as he could see it. Sometimes, things must be done the hard way - face to face. He would need to use his wiry frame to his advantage. Lord knew his strength alone would leave him dead, or worse.

Whenever William left the room, there were perhaps a few seconds here and there that Father did not have him in his sight or was at all far away, not since the failed incident with dinner utensils. There was nothing in the house, save for the television, that was not nailed to the floor like in his room. There was no grand escape plan beyond Williams walls and if there were, he would have no time to plan or enact one. He decided to sleep on it and make the decision in the morning.

William woke up that morning to an odd vibration beneath him. He grazed his hand over the carpet, but the vibration stopped abruptly soon afterwards. He thought it was unusual but then again, most everything seemed that way to him. Could have been nerves. It felt like he was getting less restful sleep, probably due to the injuries and the stressful days of planning his escape. After a few minutes of exercise, he ate his breakfast and once again tried to dishevel the nail, which seemed a bit further out than he remembered leaving it. He could tell that it was on the cusp of getting free.

"Screw it," William said as he continued beyond the allotted time he gave himself.

He felt the table jerk upward and creak, signaling to him that the nail was finally pried out. His heart pounded as he stood quietly, listening for any movement outside the room. Nothing. He looked under the table and saw the nail, about six or seven inches long, laying on top the carpet. Then, he finally heard footsteps just beyond the door.

"Shit." He thought, his mind racing.

In a matter of seconds, the door began to be unlocked from the other side with the sound of creaking metal and the jingle of chains. William grabbed the nail and like a rat hunted by a hungry feline, he scurried as fast and softly as he could over to his bed. The door flung open as William hid the nail underneath the sheet. No one entered the room. William, in half breaths, stared at the door for the longest ten seconds of his life.

"Father?" William called out with worry.

No answer. He sat up a bit, looking over inquisitively at the empty space where there should have been an angry old man. William, before standing up, placed the nail in the opening between the bed boards behind his back. He calmly walked over to the door. It was pitch black on the other side and he could not make out anything shapely in the shadows. Squinting, he walked closer. Still nothing. Darkness and silence teamed up and produced a terrified feeling inside him. His feet trembled back a few steps in fear.

"Is this a trick?" William thought.

It could very well have been a trick by Father to see if William would leave the room without permission. William wanted to so badly. He wanted to run into the blackness and come out on the other side looking at a new world, looking at freedom. The urge to bolt raged so deeply within William that he was no longer breathing. Every single ounce of mental capacity was used in his need to escape. But he had to be smart about it.

William closed his eyes, took a breath at last, and grabbed the steel door. William closed the door and took another two steps back, hitting his right heel on the waste bucket. He snapped out of the daze he was in and continued to walk towards his bed and sit down against the wall. The sound of chains and creaking metal began again, this time it was the door being locked.

"Why? It's like he knows something or he's trying to-" William paused. He got up and walked to the door.

Very carefully, he laid his head onto the door with his ear pressed firmly against it. He placed his hand on the door, closed his eyes, and listened. He listened for anything possible to make sure Father was not hanging around, possibly trying to listen in on him. There were times when William thought a camera was placed somewhere in the room. Eventually, he discarded the thought. He could find no trace of such a device anywhere. He stood up straight with his shoulders back, letting in small breaths as he gazed at the door. William walked over to his bed and emptied the nail from his bed sheets and placed it between his fingers like a sharp claw. He walked steadily back to the door and waited there with his fist up at his waist, sweat beading from his forehead. His grip on the nail was so tight that it almost broke skin.

For a good while, William waited there. The nail in his hand and ready to be lunged at the first thing to pop its unlucky head through the door. He wanted out. He wanted to either get out or die. There was no tricking or out-smarting. There was no safe escape without detection. It was going to be him and Father like it had always been.

Father was always a step ahead of him. William was the one who was captured, after all. Father was the one in control. Either Father, or God. It was time, in William's mind, to test his luck with the latter. He looked at the nail in his hand. The nail was the single biggest stroke of luck that William had ever encountered. All those years without a shred of hope and by some miracle he discovers a simple imperfection in the room's construction.

"Nothing is perfect. Thank God." He said.

The maple leaf, the nail, Father, Williams capture and imprisonment, and the possibility of escape. What did this all mean? Who is in control now? The beast known as Father or the young, defeated man with a nail? Perhaps it was something greater. Perhaps it was simply luck. It could very well all be in God's hands now, if He were there at all.

As luck would have it, William did indeed possess a weapon. However small, it was better than none. He heard the door begin to open. William got into position behind the door. The door opened wide, and William jutted outward toward the opening, nail in fist. He hit nothing and the momentum propelled William forward a bit before he made a second lunge into the open doorway. Once again, nothing was hit. He lunged the nail deeper into the blackness of the hallway just beyond the door. For a third time, nothing.

Looking around frantically and heart beating rapidly, William took a deep breath through his nose. His short struggle against air was more exhausting than any of his routine workouts. William peered down the hall and into the hallway before him. The only thing in existence in that moment was pure silence and a disturbing darkness that seemed to surround his very soul. William started stepping forward and held the nail close to his chest, ready for use. He made it down the hall and into the living room. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out objects around him. Couch. Television. Chair. Wall. Like a beacon that symbolized William's freedom, stood the front door.