He never thought that getting a ring stuck on his finger long ago would suddenly become such lifesaving information, but it had now.

It was by lucky chance that he had managed to get his other hand free, and with it he properly scavenged for somehing to get him out of this mess. A wire eventually wandered into his rug burnt hand, twitching with pain as he eyed the other, the hand still caught in that contraption. It wrapped bands around the base of his fingers, trapping them so under the spiked press that gradually begun to break them. Whoever captured him here, the memory was foggy, but it was something called a “my attempt of a thumbscrew.” The bands had reminded him of rings, and from there, he remembered a situation from his childhood amongst the flashbacks.

At one point while goofing around, one of the rings he was wearing had gotten stuck at the knuckle. At first, he tugged. Then he tugged harder. He soon burst into panicked tears, until his mother hushed him with a kiss, and brought him to the bathroom. His hand was put under cold water, then a piece of floss was used to weave around his finger, under the ring, and eventually slip it off.

He used the same technique, albeit with jittery movements and many failed attempts dotted with quiet curses. Eventually though, when he got one finger slipped out from underneath the humming device, the rest came easy.

From there, with one hand singed and the other lightly crushed, he begun to look for ways out of the room.