I looked up at the rope. It looks like it'd coped badly with my weight and I could see it agonizingly trying to keep me and the ceiling connected together. I hung still for a moment: There had to be something I could do. I flapped my wings, ow, still sore; still very sore and that wasn't good.
Instead I streched upwards, reaching for the knot at my legs whichh I hadn't really felt for a long time and prayed to whoever was listening that they were still a working pair of legs. Regardless of that, I couldn't reach my legs. I hung thinking for a moment, not letting despair get the best of me or I'd just spend another two months hanging in self-pity. And that'd be pretty useless.
I looked up at the rope again, thinking of the tension that there had to be on the insultingly small piece of twine. I lunged down, bent my knees and launched myself towards the floor. The twine reacted with a severe degree of pain around my legs - punishment for my endeavours. Spitefully I did the same again and once again I was sent reeling from the pain but I could feel the twine was at it's breaking point so I pulled again and there was an almighty "Snap!". One small strand of the tiny rope floated down to join me, I was half over-joyed and annoyed: That was a lot of effort for one strand of rope but at least it was getting somewhere.
Soon I find myself smiling a triumphant upside down smile as I listened to the last strand of rope groaning and creaking under the stress and tension and I hung in silence, exhausted and waiting patiently for what was no more than a few minutes when withoutwarning the last of the rope gave in and I found myself hurtling towards the ground.
It hurt, it hurt alot: The floor bounding up like a massive dog to greet me with it's big, rough tongue.
I didn't have time to think about the pain though; I needed to get out of there, so I found myself hastily untying the ropes and limping through the rather stupidly sized bars of the cell door as all the blood rushed back to where it was meant to be.