The word this week is Traction and my Winchester is a little tied up!
His feet scrabble on the floor, his nails broken and bleeding as he tries to gain some traction so he can take his weight on his legs.
It doesn't work though.
They have suspended him deliberately too high so he hangs impotently in his restraints and his shoulders scream as each movement wrenches at the socket.
He rolls his head back, his unfocussed eyes searching again for something, anything, that might help but as before the room is minimalistically perverse.
The movement puts pressure on his still oozing head-wound and he groans as the room spins nauseatingly.
He's screwed!
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.