Escapee

1st Person

I can't believe I did that. I just broke out of prison. That's supposed to be impossible. Everyone said it was impossible. But I did it. I did it.

3rd Person

She loosed a giddy giggle as she raced across the rooftops. Nobody knew she was gone. At least... Not yet.

She knew she could get away. Just because she had been in prison for a year and a half doesn't mean she hadn't been working out. She kept herself fit, jumping from the floor to the table, pull-ups on the overwalk. It made the small woman excited. The knowledge that she was ahead and would stay ahead.

1st Person

Parkour is my thing. It's in my name! My name is Parker and I practically lived on the rooftops before going to prison. They welcomed me back with a warm embrace. Literally. I face-planted into a warm puddle of what I assumed was water. I laughed as I got up. So maybe I was a little rusty.

3rd Person

She sighed. She hadn't fallen since she was 17. She looked at her hand, noticing the small scrape. She chuckled, "Well at least I know that I'm alive." She drew out the words, using the same sickeningly sweet and innocent voice that she used on the shrink from the prison. She chuckled again and kept moving.

1st Person

The next jump is gonna have to be stronger. If I didn't make it, I died. Simple as that. I don't really care either way most of the time, but, right now, I kinda wanna see my son. And to do that I need to jump four more buildings, hop on a train, and travel to the entire other side of the state. I did the math and I should be able to make it. I ran and, right before I ran off the side of the building. I jumped. Time slowed down. The rush was exhilarating. I saw the roof as I got closer. I saw where I was gonna land. I rolled as I hit the roof, landing on my right knee. It felt good.

3rd Person

Adrenaline coursed through her veins. The running was her favorite part. If she didn't jump, she died. If she decided not to jump but didn't stop in time, she died. She loved the risk.

As she raced across the roof, she thought about her son. He was her greatest accident. She had him at 17 and his father left before he was born. She raised him in a small apartment, teaching him parkour on the roof. They would spend hours on end practicing up there. She smiled as she jumped the next gap.

1st Person

I miss him. My son is my everything. I cant wait to see him, to hug him. He turned 16 yesterday. He visited and told me how he was doing. I could tell that he hadn't slept much. The bags under his eyes had grown from the last time I saw him. I know he can take care of himself, but every child needs their momma till they're 18. It's just a commonly known fact. At 16, the only thing he's supposed to worry about is girls, school, and getting his driver's license, not the next time he'll have enough money to really eat something. I want to help him. I want to take him out of this country. Give him a better life.

3rd Person

She was almost home. Maybe 10 minutes. She slowed to a light jog, trying not to raise suspicion. The guards would have found her empty cell by now. They would be searching the prison and surrounding area by now. She had to hurry. Get out of the country before they put her on some kind of watchlist. She skidded to a stop outside her apartment building. Home. She was home. She pulled her hood up to cover her face and went inside. She made her way to the sixth floor. She walked along the hallway, watching for apartment 27b. She stopped in front of it, staring at it for a moment before she knocked. The door opened and there he stood. "Mom?" he said. He sounded shocked and happy. "You escaped, didn't you?"

1st Person

I pulled my hood down, "Yes, Mikey, I did. We need to leave. Now." He led me inside. It looked the same as when I left. Maybe a little dustier. But otherwise the same. Home. It was home.

I helped him pack, quickly, and we left. We hugged once but, other than that, there was no reunion. We both knew that we didn't have time for that. We could catch up and hug and joke all we wanted when we were safe.

3rd person

They raced to an airport, hoping that they weren't too late. She hid her face as best as she could but it wouldn't be enough if people were looking for her. They just had to pray that the government was being slow.

They had no trouble buying tickets and making their way towards the terminal. They smiled to themselves. They thought they were safe now. But they were wrong. "Parker Kemp! Put your hands in the air and stay where you are!" They turned and saw about 10 cops, all with guns raised, slowly walking towards them.

1st Person

No. No. NO. I was THIS close! I can't go back to prison. Not now. I put my hands in the air and backed up. "Stay where you are!" one of the cops yelled. I can't. No. I can't. I turned and ran. Mikey hot on my tail. I heard the cops following. "Mikey, whatever happens, don't let them get you." He nodded, too out of breath to respond.

3rd Person

They may be professionals, but the mother-son duo couldn't run forever. They turned and corner and stopped, thinking they had lost their pursuers. "You need to keep going, Mikey. I'll catch up." The boy looked at his mother's face. She was worn down. She wouldn't be able to go any further. He nodded and climbed the building. He knew that it was unlikely that she would be able to follow. A single tear rolled down his face. "Don't die, mom." He muttered as he ran.

She didn't hear the cops coming over her labored breathing. She felt one grab her wrist and she tried to hit him. He raised his gun, firing a single shot into her chest. She fell to the ground, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry, Mikey." was all she muttered before her life faded away.