Future Ghosts • TWD

96. Home.

Rosie's heart was pounding, along with the pain in her head. She had the homemade lock pick hidden in her pocket. She had already stuffed her things inside of her backpack- aside from the pillow and blanket because those wouldn't fit. She'd just have to leave those behind. She had been waiting and waiting for the small sliver of sunlight from beneath the door and the quiet, occasional footsteps that sounded from the hall to disappear, signifying nightfall. 

Laura had come in once more to empty the bucket and escort Rosie to the bathroom, and Rosie felt like she was going to have a heart attack the entire time. She was doing her best to act natural, like she wasn't going to get out of this hell hole within the next few hours. But she was shaky, without meaning to be. Laura brushed it off as her being weak from throwing up so much. Really, it was the anxiety.

If Rosie screwed this up, she'd be stuck for even longer, and Eugene would be inevitably punished. Rosie really, really did not want that to happen. That was the worst-case scenario. She decided that if she did get caught, she would say that she found it in her backpack. Daryl must've snuck it in, right? Daryl couldn't get punished for it if he wasn't there. Therefore, everyone was safe. But none of that would have to happen at all if Rosie could just get this right. 

The sun had been down for what Rosie would guess was two hours by now. The hallways had been silent for what Rosie counted to be 1,743 seconds. She decided that she was going to wait 500 more seconds until she would start trying to pick the lock. Tick-tick-click. Easy peasy. Tick-tick-click. That was all she had to do. Tick-tick-click, then just getting the rest of the way out. 

496, 497, 498, 499, 500. Rosie felt like she couldn't breathe. She lifted her shaky hand from her pocket, the bent-up paperclip held so tight between her fingers that it left indents in her pale skin. She stuck the paperclip into the keyhole on the doorknob. She shook it around in there a little, trying to get the placement right. Then, tick. Her heart practically stopped beating. She moved it a little more. Another tick. More, but nothing. 

Come on. 

She pulled the paperclip back out of the keyhole, then, slowly, she put it back in, starting over. Tick-tick-nothing. 

Please. Please. Please.

One more time, she started over. Come on, please. She stuck it in. Tick, further, tick, further, click. Her breath hitched, and she forgot to breathe for a moment as she let her hand go to the doorknob. She twisted. The doorknob didn't stop. It turned with her hand. She let go, stepping back. She had done it. Out of all people, it was Eugene who managed to get her out. As long as she was able to escape the building, that is. 

After a deep breath, Rosie slung her backpack over her shoulders. She needed to be silent. She pressed her ear up to the door, listening for any footsteps- any sign of someone out in the halls. She waited and waited. Nothing. Slowly, she twisted the handle again, and gently pushed open the door. She only opened it enough for her to peak out, at first, but once she saw that it was for sure clear, she slipped out into the hallway, silently pushing the door shut behind her. 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe, she kept reminding herself. 

The hall was dark, aside from the tiny rays of moonlight slipping in from the small windows. Be quick, be quiet. Now the outcome was completely up to Rosie. No one was there to give her directions, to protect her, to help her. She was on her own. Her fate was up to herself and only herself. She reached the end of the hall and pressed herself up against the wall. Just to be safe, she peaked out around the corner, making sure no one was down there, either. No one was in this new hallway, but a new light was. A glowing red light. It was coming from a sign that hung from the ceiling that read, EXIT.