Wesley stared at the candle and saw less than an inch of wax above the hole with the dynamite fuse. He began to feverishly kick his feet and tug his wrists hoping for a loosening or the break of a strap. Instead, the rear legs of the chair snapped, sending him over backwards, resulting in a loud crack when his skull met the wood floor.
He shook his head slightly and glanced up at Robin next to him. She was straining to see him as he fought to meet her eyes. He could not see her face.
“Half an inch,” Robin said, in a small, childlike voice.
“I know.” They were both quiet for a few seconds. Wesley was able to move enough on the floor to see the candle. He couldn’t see Robin’s face or stand or break free of the chair but he could see that damned candle.
“I’m sorry,” Wesley said.
“For bringing you here.”
“You only did because I was pressuring you for us to get away.”
“I love you, Robin. More than you know.”
“I do know, Wesley. I love you too…I’ve loved you my entire life….”