Last Day Behind Bars

Kaylee Mattoon
Creative Writing
Mrs. Ferguson Period F

Last Day Behind Bars

Today is the day, I thought. Today I'll get out of here - out of this metal bed, out of this cell, out of this institution. Away from this goddamn metal bowl they expect you to piss in. Away from the everyday pile of slop on a plate. Away from Bertha, my cell mate, who refuses to bathe until they let her out even though she has 3 years to go. Gotta love the hair on her upper lip, though. NO. NOT going to miss that. At all. Let's just not talk about Midge anymore actually. I need to focus on getting out of here. Stick to the plan. Eyes on the prize. The guard just told me the time - 12:01. Almost there.

It's lights out. The night guard's name is Larry or Barry or something like that. All I know is that I've been watching him for months now and I know when he nods off. It's always 12:53. Once he falls asleep, I'm going to use the metal bar that broke off Bertha's bed to make a gap in the cell door. I don't really eat here, so I'm hoping I'll be skinny enough to squeeze through the gap. Then, very quietly, I'll get past Larry Barry's desk and take the key he stupidly keeps in his breast pocket while I'm at it. I'll make a left down the hall and use the key to get through the door to the boiler room. Once in the boiler room, I'll climb my way over top of machinery and hot water heaters to get to the air vent tunnel in the ceiling. The ceiling vent leads right to the lobby, I know that because I've been checking out where all the vents are every time I get a visit from my brother.
It's 12:52. Here goes nothing.