Killer Queen ~ {H.E.S}

Homely, lonely bite

HARRY

Stale. That's what the food was. Stale and tasteless and the colour of uncooked chicken and grey worms. Harry couldn't bear to eat the same dish that he had had for all the previous Mondays in this sweaty, confining building.

Today was Tuesday, and eating pink meatloaf and slimy beans was a Monday thing, although he wished it wasn't a thing at all.

For months he had been planning, stealing cigarettes that his silent cellmate had so desperately wanted just to get his help, Harry didn't even know his name, he was so silent Harry had to invent a name to suit him; and that name had been Bill.

Bill was a small, balding man of around 40, the sort nobody knew why he was in jail. Harry guessed Bill himself didn't know.

The man was so frail he looked like he barely had the courage to ask for a glass of water let alone commit a crime large enough to land himself in the maximum security block with a bunch of murders and psychopaths, or in Harry's case: a con-man who spent his handsomely lonely days ruining the lives of many youthful citizens before they had barely begun. All in an attempt to get attention from a woman who barely gave him a second glance.

Harry realised his younger self's definition of love was nothing but a pathetic obsession and he hated himself for it. He guessed two years of jail really did change a person.

And it was all quite sad really.

As Harry scooped up the mushy beans and took a mouthful, ignoring the green that fell into the bushy beard that covered half of his young face, Bill grabbed his arm, shaking it without a word.

That was his cue, leave the dinner hall with the young guard, the one who had only been here a few weeks, was as scrawny as a broomstick and who's only job was to escort inmates to the bathroom during lunchtime while they're own guards ate their food in the classy staff hall, the one Harry had sneaked into multiple times before to prepare for this moment.

The last stall. That's the plan. Reach the final stall, shift the panel on the roof and pull out the stolen guard's uniform, razor, scissors, mirror, a hair tie and most important, a keycard.
Bill and Harry himself had spent the last 6 months acquiring the supplies through many quick conversations and easy distractions.

He worked quickly, knowing the nervous guard outside would soon grow suspicious - especially when Bill arrives. He grabbed the mirror and quickly propped it up on the single sink, cutting the facial hair he had learned to despise.

His face was soon bare and free, not a single piece of beard or moustache left. The hair on his head was shaggy and curly, reaching well past his shoulders in an unruly brown mess so he pulled it into a bun, refusing to cut it unless he got it done professionally.

The glint of his green eyes in the mirror was wild, his desperation to escape was maniacal.

The sound of the door opening made him hesitate, but he soon realised it was just Bill, the simple idiot. Harry couldn't help but feel a little guilty, he had refused to share the next steps of his plan with the lonely man even though he had done nothing but help, in return for cigarettes of course.
Bill was under the impression Harry had two uniforms hidden in the roof panel, one for him as well so they could escape together.

Harry had lied. He had no intention to take Bill with him and that is why he had been doubting the escape for the last week at least.

As Bill hurriedly tapped on the stall door, knowing very well that it was unlocked anyway, Harry pulled on the blue uniform and pulled his hair up with the hair tie before tucking it away under a blue baseball cap. He opened the door with the scissors clenched in his right hand and stepped into the bathroom.