Title open for suggestions

                People that say they live their lives with no regrets make me sick. I wish someone else would have made my mistake.  That is one mistake I’ll be sure to never make again. Better their ass than mine is what I say. Seven years of my life straight down the old shitter, seven years and my damn eyesight. But it’s cool, no regrets.

         Oh and trust is a big one. I’ll tell you what you can trust. You can trust the cops to use excessive force on a completely cooperative man. You can trust the cop to accidentally hit you on just the right spot and of course just a little too hard. You can also trust the judge to let the cop off with no more than a slap on the wrist. Oh but not a big deal, just my life.

         The first four years in the poke sucked. I tried in every way to get out of there. I tried lawyers. I tried bribery.  Hell, I even tried to kill myself. Nothing worked.  I turned to drugs. I found a couple that let me see some things for awhile. Shrooms and acid gave me vivid trips, but they weren’t my memories. They brought about colorful fun things, like elephants made of cotton candy, graffiti type animations, and fluffy clouds. Even seeing a brick wall led an army of emotions to my concrete confinement, but none were enough. No memory was my own.

         I started to forget what people looked like. It was hard to remember faces. It seemed like all of my memories were fading away. The bastard cop stole everything I had. I wanted nothing more to do with my past. I wanted to leave it all behind, start fresh. I decided to get out once and for all.

         My first step was to the library, where I decided to study up as much as I could. I listened to chemistry math and most of all war audio books. I also listened to books about robbery and thieves. I thought that if someone knew how to get in, they might be better equipped to get out too. After listening to the whole collection, I thought it’d be nice to learn brail. I decided I was going to talk to the warden about getting me some lessons on how to read brail.

         The warden was against my lessons at the beginning, until I brought up how it was their fault that I was blind. It was the least they could do. After quite a debate I was awarded three lessons a week for one and a half hours by a private tutor.          

         About seven or eight months after I started getting tutored, I felt I was finally ready. I had been itching to get on with it, and I finally decided that tonight would be the night. My heart raced as I was escorted back to my cell. I was playing the scene over and over through my head, trying to find worse case scenarios.

As we approached my cell I made sure to listen closely for the stirs of my neighbors. There were none. I waited for the guard to open my cell, and when I walked across the threshold, my toe caught on an unseen lip and I sprawled out flat on the floor. My legs were still across the doorway. The guard immediately darted to help me up, a sucker for the disabled. As he came towards me I latched onto his outstretched arm as if truly disoriented. As I came to a full stance, we were both inside my cell, and I acted quickly before he knew what happened. I stepped behind him and twisted his neck sharply. I dropped him slowly into a heap on the floor as to not make any sudden disturbances. I almost felt sorry for his innocence, but there was no time for remorse, everything had to be quick from here on out.

            I spread him out and stripped him of his clothes as quickly as possible. I stripped my clothes as well, and threw his uniform on. There was no time to dress him, so to rid suspicion I threw my sheet over his body. They never minded using only one guard for the disabled man. I laughed at their stupidity.

            I stepped outside the cell, shut it, and locked it. I walked towards the exit of the hall. When I got to the door my heart felt like it would jump out of my chest and run away. I took the guard’s keychain and swiped it across the detector. The chip on his key ring signaled the code box. Now to verify the code.  I touched the keypad, trying to find the right pitch to start the code. I had heard my escort’s code a thousand times. What number is that first tone? Not a four. Not a six. Not a seven. Eight! I typed in the code, 8-4-7-5-9-1. There was a soft click and the door unlatched. I was through!

            From here there was a short hall and then a T intersection. I chose left, knowing that there was only one way out. The front door. I heard footsteps behind me so I walked faster.  I pushed through the door at the end of the hall, turned right and headed straight for where I knew the next door was located. The door was locked. It wouldn’t budge. I felt the wall around the door and found that it needed a key code too. I quickly repeated the process. The latch clicked and I took a large step down and I stepped onto the sidewalk. The door shut behind me. Located to my left was the guard station, and straight forward were the front doors. I walked straight out the front door.

            Freedom at last, I can smell the strong oak scent of the thick fresh air. As I stood in the silence I could hear only the spine chilling breeze that whispered secrets above my head, but there is no time to appreciate it. There will be plenty of time for that later. I have to act now before they find the guard and sound the horns.

I moved towards the parking lot. I hoped to find an unlocked suburban to stow away in.  I started slowly hoping to pick up speed with confidence. It must have been a new moon, for the darkness was so penetrating it even seemed dark to me.

         I heard shouting by from nearby inside the building. I decided there was no time to test doors, I needed to move out. I darted towards the woods that surrounded the prison. After getting no more than fifteen steps into the woods, the lights crashed on and the sirens blared. This was much sooner than I had planned. Brain racing yet heart steady, I started to pick up speed. There is no way I would let all of my hard work go to waste. I would surely be in prison for life if I got caught.

           I darted back and forth weaving through the foliage. The sound of rushing water grew closer with every moment, but so did that of the dogs.  Leafy blades tore at my limbs and scratched at my face. I needed to find a path. There must be a path to the water. A root came from nowhere and latched on to my ankle, but I tore free from its grip. I ran like a wild animal in its domain. The farther I ran, the more I felt at peace with the situation. Without reason I stopped abruptly. My hair was on end. I inched forward, a coiled spring. The area was clear, the air felt different and I could no longer hear the swish of the trees. I got down on all fours and crawled forward.

                I found the edge. I am on a precipice. The dogs are coming. The cops are close behind. I must choose.