Chapter 28

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***Important note at end***

" I am a victim of many unusual and irrational thoughts. I love my wife dearly. I cannot rationally pinpoint any reason for doing this. " 

- Charles Whitman murdered his wife and his mother and then proceeded to the University of Texas in Austin where he was an engineering student. He climbed up to the top of a tall tower on the campus with a rifle and opened fire on the people below, killing 16 and injuring 32 others.

Chapter 28

For the last time, my heels clicked on the dismal tiles of the prison hallway. Fading was my love for that place, the place I called my true home, and the place I felt like a really belonged. The peering eyes from behind the bars no longer bothered me; they were my friends, my family. But I had to let that go. I had to leave my old life behind.

I had told my father that I was picking up the last of my things from the office before quietly returning home and heading off to my aunties. The back seat was already filled with my 'essentials' and clothing I would need, as well as some packaged food I bought from the corner store. In reality, I took the car for one sole purpose; a get away. 

All the clothes and food, I hoped, would keep Vans and I secure for a little while. We wouldn't have to pull over and stock up on food and be caught by the security camera facial recognition. I parked the car in the closest spot to the prison gate and purposely left it unlocked. I wasn't going to leave anything to chance; my plan had to work.

I knew what I needed to do to get Vans out, but getting him out safely was the problem. There was always a chance that it would work and that one of us could get seriously injured, or worse, killed. But I would risk it. I would risk it for Vans and for the chance of a better life.

Passing the ladies at the front desk without a glance, a small smile crept upon my lips, as I knew I would never have to deal with their condemning gazes ever again. There was something deeply reassuring knowing I would never have to return. It would just be Vans and I, and whomever else we would pick up along our travels. There would be nothing constraining me anymore. I would be free.

It was chilly; I hugged my sweater closer and untucked my hair from behind my ears. It was going to be a cold winter, the coldest on record according to the weather woman on the news. I had hoped Vans and I would go somewhere sunny and warm, like Australia and escape the snow and the frost.

My feet had taken me to his cell without thought, as if the path was memorised in one corner of my brain, just waiting to be used. No guards were in sight; I had made sure to arrive when I knew they were doing their changeover for lunch duty. Everything had to go exactly to plan for it to work. My fingers laced through the bars, which felt weak and rusted beneath my hands, and was momentarily surprised at its iciness. It warmed quickly beneath my fingers as Vans placed his hands over mine. Heat rushed to my cheeks and my neck as a flush enveloped my face.

His face, although still handsome, was unrecognisable. The swelling on his forehead had grown considerably larger and was coloured darkly with purple bruising. His eyes revealed his insomnia; dark circles dug nearly half way down his cheek, which were gaunt and pale. Lips cracked and bloody, it looked like even a drop of water would help his extreme dehydration. 

On top of it all, his hair was dishevelled and sweaty, sticking to the back of his slumped neck with the perspiration that came with the feeling of being watched. He thought he was going to be murdered that night, and with the way he was looking, he would have died anyway from anxiety or dehydration if I didn't help him.

"Oh Vans..." I reached out and touched his cheek delicately, "What have you done to yourself?" He leaned into my palm and sighed, chest heaving with exhaustion.

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