Chapter 10
Prisoner Number XCY-100892 was certain that her time was up. The phone call had not produced the result that her captors had wanted, so they’d beaten her, stripped her naked, and thrown her back in her cell. She’d hit her head on the metal doorframe as she was thrown in and was slipping in and out of consciousness, but held cognition enough to think, to plan. As she lay shivering and despairing, she found the power to liberate herself from the cold, concrete cell - its smells of stale urine, vomit, the metallic odor of blood could daunt her no longer. Waiting for death, a decision had been made. She hadn’t made it this far to die in a shit-hole like this. She owed it to Marcus, Jax, Zeidra; all of them. A debt was due. Next time, she would reclaim it herself - all or nothing.
Footsteps outside the door, the cell door opening. Hot breath on her neck. “Good thing you’ll be asleep for this, can’t imagine you’d enjoy it too much,” an ugly voice says quietly in her ear. A rough, calloused hand slithers down her back, grips, pinches her waist, and flips her over on to her back. The ugly voice whispers commands of submission. Now, time to act. Eyes open and foot strikes up into the parted legs over her. On her feet, grabbing the guard and flipping him on to his back, a twist of the arm and snap. A scream of pain, and now Prisoner Number XCY-100892 holds a gun to the face of a cowering guard.
“P-please, d-d-d-on’t kill me, I c-c-c-can help you, I was just teasing, swear to god!” the man pleaded, cowering below the naked prisoner. The prisoner smiled as she glanced to his crotch, noticing the growing wetness that had attached itself to his pants. She’d made the fucker wet himself. She hoped he’d pissed blood.
“Gimme’ your keys. Now.” The prisoner demanded quietly. The guard reached into his pocket and produced a keycard.
“This will give you access to the lower levels of the detention facility, but that’s all I’ve got, I have to leave through the back door when I clock out.” The guard handed the key over and raised his hand again in submission.
“Where’s the back door? Tell me!” The prisoner kicked the guard hard in his ribs.
“Follow the s-s-signs to the b-b-breakroom,” the guard sputtered breathlessly, holding his side with his remaining good arm.
“You’ve been a big help, really,” the prisoner said, closing the door of the cell, never releasing the guard from the peril of the pistol. Door quietly closed, she turned around, placed the gun to the guard’s left eye, and pulled the trigger.