Anticipation

"You may leave once you open the bottle."

She stared at the plain wine bottle, then at the gray room she was in. There was only a bed and a pail.

"But I haven't a corkscrew."

The guard just grinned.

She figured the whole situation must be some sort of puzzle.

The guard laid down on the bed, looking at her. The smug grin remained.

She ran her fingers across the walls, thinking perhaps the puzzle's trick was with the room itself. Nothing.

She did the same with the floor. Nothing.

She even examined the bed the guard was laying on. He did not object, but he did not move. Nothing.

The pail was simply a pail. Nothing.

She then had an epiphany. She picked up the wine bottle from the floor and walked over to the wall. She raised her hand up and—

"If any wine touches the floor, it doesn't count," said the guard.

She put the bottle down.

Her brain cycled through the same ideas over and over. She even asked the guard if he had anything on him she could use. He had nothing but his clothes.

For hours she stared at the bottle. Then she stared at the guard, and that thick mattress underneath him. It gave her a horrible idea.

Two guards in a surveillance room watched through a monitor.

"I'm not kinkshaming Dave for being a masochist — but his blood ruins a lot of good mattresses."

"I dunno, that sounds like kinkshaming."