The Break Out

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DYLAN

I'm here running for my life… quite literally if I may add. I don't know how many patrols they sent down to chase me and the more I hear the sirens, the faster I run.

I wouldn't be in this mess if they had done a better job getting the real murder; but the color of my skin? Yeah, I was in trouble the second I found that girl.

All I did was go out for a jog to clear my head when I stumbled over what I thought was a bag of trash. I called nine-one-one and the minute they saw me they put me in handcuffs. 

I've heard plenty of times that some cops can be idiots, and they aren't out here trying to prove themselves wrong. I mean if I dumped a body at a park, why would I touch it, and after I touched it, why would I call them?

Nothing else mattered to them. Nothing other than the fact that it was a black guy and the remains of a white woman.

I see the gas station that was here when I was brought to prison. I had seen it on the way and I was hoping it was still here. "Yes!" I say to myself, looking back to make sure no one's seen me yet. I finally enter the small town gas station and I'm hit straight to the face with three things: the pleasant heat after running outside where it's about twenty degrees, Christmas music, and the most gorgeous man I've ever seen.

"Good evening," he says when he catches me staring, "how may I help you tonight?" 

I know a thing or two he can help me with. I haven't been with anyone since I was arrested, and I never gave any indication to my cell mate that I was anything but straight. I wasn't about to be someone's bitch. Although, he wasn't that bad.

"Eh, Sir… Can I help you?"

God! Even his voice is sexy. "Oh, shit, yeah, sorry. I need a restroom. Is there one I can use?" 

The guy behind the counter looks me up and down and I could swear he bites his lips. "Yes, there is one you can use. Here's the key." I reach out and grab the key that's attached to a large piece of wood, but he doesn't let go until he says, "Bring it back to me, ok? Don't leave it there. Keeping it locked is the only way to keep it clean." 

I cross my heart and he smiles. So fucking gorgeous! The sirens getting louder and closer make me pull the key and he lets go. I almost fucking run into the bathroom. As I get closer to the door, I see a rack of winter coats, sweaters, t-shirts, and beanies, so I grab one of each, along with a pack of razors.

During my time in prison, my mom sent me as many books as she could, and each one of them had a fifty dollar bill between page forty-nine and fifty. I'm not sure what it means but I'm beyond thankful for it. 

"You know you're going to pay for that, right?" I hear the counter guy shout and I shout back a quick "Of course!" and get into the small bathroom.

I asked my mother during one of her visits to bring me a coloring book and some colored pencils, and during last winter, I reported my uniform sweatshirt as missing so they had to get me a new one. Truth is it was all part of my plan because I knew I was going to escape. Just didn't know when.

Every day I would color a page, and ask one of the guards to sharpen my pencils. Every night I would run the warm water on my sink, soak the pencils, and color my hidden sweatshirt so it didn't look so much like a prison uniform. When winter was over and I wore the regular uniform, I'd do the same with the sweatpants—colored all over them. 

I was reading in my cell when the power went down and the riot started. I knew it was a now or never moment so I put up my winter uniform, grabbed the money I had stashed inside my pillow, and made the run for it. The guards were too busy dealing with the fight in the dark to notice I was leaving, until it was too late and I was already running outside.