PITYING THE PRISONER | p.jm

t e n - j i m i n

I run my hands through my hair. Over and over, I tug gently at the dyed brown hair on my head, feeling the slight tension and gripping onto that sensation. Feeling things has become so difficult, so much so that it seems that I've become numb. I keep holding on to the thought of Cora. She's collecting her things, preparing herself, and getting ready to get us both out of here. That's the only thing keeping me sane. Cora and her willingness to get me back home.

I really am thankful for her, honestly. She's been willing to give up everything, everything, to save me. Granted, it is my fault that she's doing so. If I'd never made her see the light, so to speak, she wouldn't have a reason to abandon what is essentially her entire life. All of it— her friends, family, lifestyle— it's all gone, and all because of me. I would most definitely be insane by now if not for Lee Cora. I have grown to be entirely dependent on her. I really do need her.

Today is day seven. Today is the day we either get out of here or die trying. It will all go down today, and I will either be at home with Bangtan or in a shallow grave by the end of it. Cora has yet to come with breakfast, so I'm not sure of the time, but I know our escape isn't until night, once it's dark. I just have to wait it out for a few more hours, and I'll seal my fate.

The door opens, and my saving grace enters the room, food in hand. She's wearing dark blue jeans and a black top, something that won't be very noticeable under the cover of night. I, myself, am wearing my grey sweatpants and the black shirt in order to keep me hidden. Darker colors work best for dark nights, after all.

Cora hands me the food, giving me an indignant look as she does so. It's not one of meaning, though; it's the same facade she's been putting up since she decided that she wanted to help me. I keep my head down, as I've learned to do, and say a few quiet words of thanks as she passes the tray into my hands. She leaves, and I begin to eat, as I always do. There's information written on the napkin today, scrawled in messy and quick handwriting. It reads:

Today's the day!!

Post-san. I will get you.

-C

A small heart is also jotted down at the bottom of the page, and I can't help but smile at the thought of it. Quickly, though, I shred the napkin with one hand after putting it in my pocket, and then I covertly begin to put the small torn pieces into my mouth. It's paper, and it doesn't taste very good, but it's eliminating incriminating evidence, and that's all I need to worry about right now. This is it. This is my last day here.

Cora's message is pretty straightforward. It says, simply, that she's going to get me some time after I'm done at the Sanitation Block. If there's anything I'll miss about this place, it's the Sanitation Block. It's the place where I've become comfortable, it's the only place I can truly express myself around Cora, and it's the only place where we can discuss our imminent escape. It's where Cora and I really got to know each other. For instance, I learned that she's only eighteen, and as such is a year younger than me. We laughed about this, simply because if asked which one of us was older, anyone would choose Cora. She's certainly much more mature than I am, but that's just the way she was raised. She never really got to be a kid, so she's mentally much older than she is physically. I also learned that she can sing and play piano, and that she can speak English. Her mother taught her to do all three of these things, and I promised her that after we got out of here, I'd help her track her mother down. Jessica Abernathy is a name I'll have to remember, for Cora's sake.

Time passes slowly. Maybe it passes quickly, it's all a blur at this point. I'm in such a state of anxious anticipation that the passage of time is quite distorted. That, and I've been in this same clockless, dreary, and altogether bleak room for so long that time doesn't seem to pass the same way. Rather than by minutes and seconds, it passes by mealtimes and visits from Cora. It's only been a couple of weeks, but it's been enough to screw me up pretty badly. I'm going to need serious therapy after this.