Escape for Life

Escape for Life

I drove into my house garage in my jeep, and realized that I was supposed to go to the grocery store. I swore as I got out of my jeep and walked to the door. I had just gotten back from the movies, and wished I had remembered to go the grocery store. Hollywood sure could get away with making loads of crap. I pulled out my keys to the house, and unlocked the door.
I instantly felt a bad feeling. Something was not right. Then it hit me like a sac of bricks. It was the odor.
I had been a crime scene investigator, or CSI, for four years, and I could recognize that smell anywhere. It’s not something you would ever forget. The smell of a body decomposing was the smell I smelled.
I walked inside the house, careful not to touch anything. CSIs could tell if anybody had been through a crime scene by the evidence. But I was a professional. I decided putting on gloves would probably be the best thing, so I walked back to my jeep where I kept my gloves that I wore collecting evidence for crime scenes.
I put my gloves on, and returned to the house. I followed the horrible smell of the decomposing body to the actual body.
The body had once been a man in his late thirty’s. I let out a scream, and instantly put my hands to my mouth to mute my screams. I didn’t want the neighbors to call the police. That’s the last thing I wanted too happen.
The man was Michael, my ex- boyfriend. He had been shot three times in the chest. My provisional instincts kicked in, and I started to look around for the murder weapon. I almost screamed again when I did. The gun was mine.
I knew that I was being set up. I didn’t shoot my ex- boyfriend with my gun. But I knew the evidence pointed right to me. The gun was mine, and the body was found in my house.
Then it hit me. I should look for signs of forced entry. The murderer shouldn’t have a key to my house. I quickly checked every window and door for signs of a break in.
I was shocked when I didn’t find any. I looked again more thoroughly. Again I didn’t find any sign of a break in. I felt like screaming again. That’s what I was doing on the inside.
I didn’t know what to do. If I called the police, I would be arrested and convicted of his murder
I could flee the country, but why? I had done nothing wrong, and would live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.
But I didn’t think of a way I could prove my innocence. I was the last person in the house, and it was my house. He was shot with my gun, and he was my ex-boyfriend. I had been to the movies, but I had paid for the ticket in cash. I couldn’t prove that I had been at the movies at all. I could have been busy killing Michael. Then I remembered the ticket. I fished around my pocket, but couldn’t find the ticket. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT. I must have thrown the ticket away.
So, I decided the only logical thing to do was to flee the country. It was only a matter of time before somebody figured out he was missing. Then, the police would find the body fast, and arrest me.
There wasn’t time to clear my name, I thought to myself. The police could be on their way to my house, with their sirens blaring. Then, they would slap the cold steel handcuffs on my wrist.
It was ironic. I had seen that scene so many times in my career and in movies and TV. Now it was going to happen to me.
The only thing was that I was innocent, unlike the criminals she saw being placed in the police cruiser. Or where they? Had I but people innocent people in Jail? If so, how many?
I don’t want to know that, she thought to herself. Or do I? How many men had been rapped by a fellow cellmate because of me?
She shuddered at the thought of that. I couldn’t make it either in prison. I have to get out of the country. I will have to go to the ATM to get cash so the police won’t figure out what ticket she bought. But the airline company would still have to see her id and passport to leave the country. Then the police would still figure out where I was going.
But that would give me enough time wouldn’t? Maybe. But then maybe the police wouldn’t have caught on by then. Or maybe the FBI would be handling this.
Yes, the police would have to turn over the case to the FBI and brief them because she was leaving the country. This all would take time. Maybe I will have enough time. Anyway I’m wasting enough time as it is.
I packed a back with the essentials that I needed: a few clothes, my passport, and a driver’s license. I walked back out to my jeep full of adrenalin. Whether or not I made it out of the country would affect my life majorly. I would go to prison or I wouldn’t.
I felt a deep sympathy for the suspects of crimes locked in the interrogation room. They must be terrified. I myself know that feeling.
What if I’m sent to prison? What would I do? I shouldn’t think negative. I have to get some money to leave the country.
I climbed into the jeep and left my house, possibly for the last time. I felt very sad after I thought that. I loved my house, my job, and my friends. When I left the country I was going to have to probably work a boring job like a maid or something like that. I didn’t want to tell anybody that I had been to college in the states. Then everybody would ask why I left. I wanted to keep the lies minimum. That would leave a smaller chance of me messing up.
I can’t have any friends either then. They would want to know. This was going to be tough. What if someone tried to be my friend? Would I be unfriendly and turn the person down? Or would I be the person’s friend anyway?
I pulled up to the ATM, and quickly withdrew five hundred dollars. I hope that’s enough. It was going to be very hard to explain the money she had, much less any more when she was going threw security at the airport.
No, I might need more than that. I’m glad that I’m a saver and not a spender. How could she flee the country without money?
Ok, I have the money. Now I need to leave the country. Piece of cake right?
I turned the car around the right way, and I hoped I still had enough time to do this. What if I don’t? Is some cop going to arrest me? No, I should think positive.
I still haven’t thought of the specifics of my escape. What country do I want to go to? I should go to Brazil first. Brazil was huge and perfect for hiding.

Then, I could go to Europe after a few years. Maybe after I had gotten a new identity, and changed my features enough. I hope I make it that far.
The police could track her to Brazil, and then have her brought back to the states to have a trial. But not a fair one. The irony of the situation was very strong. Her job as a CSI was to help the legal system, but the legal system couldn’t help her. I’m the brat that always says, “It’s not fair, it’s not fair.”
But it was true, it wasn’t fair. So I am a person that believes the evidence could tell whether a person is guilty or not, but is fleeing the country because the evidence is going to convict her.
I guess the legal system isn’t as perfect as I thought it was. Sure, it put away many criminals, but there would always be exceptions. At least I’m at the airport.
I walked very quickly into the entrance of the airport. Hell, I could practically run through here. People would just think I’m late for my flight. I didn’t start to run, but started to walk faster.
I quickly bought a ticket from San Francisco to Mexico City. After that I know I can find my way to Brazil. I had my bags checked. The money didn’t bother the security guards or whatever they are called. I guess if you can’t blow up a plane with it your ok..
I had to wait ten minutes for my flight. I was very nervous, and I couldn’t help but to look around me constantly. I desperately hoped I still had enough time.
I boarded my plane after what felt like an eternity. After a long time the plane took off.


Epilogue

I managed to make it to Mexico City, and I soon left for Brazil. I moved around Brazil for three years while learning Spanish. I then went to Spain using a new identity I made in Brazil. I have lived in Spain for a year now, and I think I’m going to be ok for now.