For a moment, Mike lay on the floor, just dragging in frantic breaths. He couldn't believe it actually worked. He wasn't drowning. He wasn't being stepped on. He was out of the tub. Unfortunately, in the rush, he hadn't realized he'd had help.

He didn't have time to worry about getting his mouth free. He sits up, his stomach flexing and straining to get himself up onto his knees. He casts around the bathroom for something within reach that could be used against the ropes. The odds were slim, but he didn't have many options.

His search was ended as soon as it began, because he slowly turns his gaze up at the man.

Several times that night, he'd felt genuine fear. But it a mild worry compared to the utter dread that flooded through him in that moment. The sickening fear of having his entire reality shifted at its very base. It was like his head was filled with static, trying to resist the very idea of it all. It was his imagination. The light. The strain. It was getting to him.

But still, he was trying to make for the door. He twisted, trying to fling himself towards it. He squirmed, inching between knees and shoulders, trying desperately to get to something. Anything. That could free him.