Orange, I had firmly decided, was not my colour.
It didn't quite match the crisp white walls, barren of any signs or decoration. Nor did it go well with my white sneakers, although they had been shrugged off and lobbed behind me somewhere. There was no compliment towards my hair either, the harsh orange clashing with the blonde. It certainly didn't help my already fairly red face, which was slightly sweaty and breathing heavily as I tore down the ridiculously long corridor. In fact, the combination of these colours made me appear less like a madman running for her life, and more like bright coloured parrot making a sudden break for it.
Well, I thought, as three more heavily armed men rounded the corner, far too close for comfort, well maybe I'm not as fast as I thought. Still my resolve had dragged me this far, and at this point all I knew was that I had to get out, and since it was the only bold memory I had, I had decided to follow through with it, damned the consequences.
Except the consequences preferred to damn me.
As if my red face wasn't enough, scarlet soaked through the hideously itchy material by my leg, and although I couldn't see it I could feel the warm wet sticky stuff soaked on my back as well, despite my best efforts to ignore it. But I was close, so close. I could almost taste it. It was the sweet taste of freedom; sugary like honey but with the kick of something much more powerful. My heart was thundering in my chest, either from the adrenaline or the excitement I wasn't sure, but it beat like a drum in my own personal escape theme tune.
Suddenly I was outside, and the explosion of sights and smells and sounds completely stunned me; I had been inside for so long. I hesitated, struck by just how warm the sun felt on my face, until reality crashed back in and I heard the familiar click of a pistol.
But I was desperate, and I was close, and I was several meters in front, so I started sprinting again, this time with a second wind, and as the shadow of the hospital passed over me, I felt a laugh bubble out from my mouth. The laugh turned into a whoop and a shout, and my leg and my back felt miles away compared to the tantalizing new world ahead of me.
"I hope you all burn in hell motherfuckers!" I yelled, briefly turning around to flash them with a middle finger.
It seemed like a good thing to do at the time. A final hurrah after too long in that hellhole of needles and pills and who knows how much time wasted. Except I've never been good for ideas. As the flurry of darts soared and landed in my chest, and I tumbled to the ground, I had one thought.
At least I went out with a bang.
