Lunchtime
The problem with the plan, at this point, was that the constant flow of water rushing over the edge of the sink and onto the floor was making Chase constantly wonder if he had to use the bathroom. Or maybe it was just his nerves. He'd gone, twice, but it was evident that he hadn't actually had enough liquid in his system to make the attempts even remotely worth it. The toilet paper clogging the drain was still holding up, for now, but Chase had no idea how long it would actually take for it to dissolve, if it even would on its own. The faucet was still going full blast after being knocked, and "broken" during his fight with Noah, and Chase figured, once again, that the ruse wouldn't really be evident until someone actually came in to check.
It had taken a while for the water to make it out into the hall, longer than Chase had hoped, the puddle in the cell itself covering nearly all of the floor. Once it had filled all of the space it could in there, it seemingly spread out into the hall more quickly, like a dam had burst. Now it had spread in a wide pool from their cell to the one across the hall. Noah had escaped to the top bunk to avoid the water, and presumably Chase, and Chase had to wonder if the guy was aching from their altercation as much as he was. It had worked, so it seemed, and that was all that mattered.
Actually, no, it wasn't. What really mattered was whether or not the rest worked, for the sake of everyone.
Now it was just a matter of waiting. He sat on the edge of his bed, closest to the wall. The frayed cord was hidden under his pillow, one end loosely trapped in the pillow case to keep it from moving when he went to use the other. The last thing he needed was to turn his own trap against himself. He would have preferred to be further set up than this, but without knowing when Simms was looking at the camera, if he even could, he needed to play this as close to the chest as he could. If Simms was paying attention, he likely could surmise that Chase was up to something, but Chase had to hope the guy would believe whatever was happening was a ploy to get him into the cell itself. Now he just waited to hear the sound of the door opening, knowing it would only give him a few seconds to do what he needed to do.
When he heard the first telltale creek, a new wave of panic hit him, stiffening his movements even as he tore into action. One end of the charge cord was shoved into the electrical socket. Then he was back at the bed, feet up on the mattress, his mind both reminding him of what to do, and screaming at him that he'd never killed anyone before. Would this kill Simms? Hadn't he wanted Simms dead for months now? Too late to think about that.
When he heard boots hit water, he dropped the other end of the frayed cord onto the ground, into the pool below.