The Escape

Sirens wailed, lights blinded my eyes, a cacophony of voices could be heard overhead, while crouched in the sewer, my garments drenched in gutter water. Trembling and whimpering, I awaited the comforting silence. It would give me the assurance that the coast was clear. An hour had already passed, and my fingers drummed against the sewer’s dingy walls in impatience. My leg had a cramp, and the scratches on my arm were bleeding heavily, turning the grey-black water into a bright crimson. I waited until the sirens died out, until the blaring lights could not enter the holes of my sanctuary, until I could not hear even a whisper. 

Carefully, I lifted the cold roof of the sewer and squinted into the black of the night. I peered outside, looking for something as negligible as a shadow. The fresh, chilly wind was a far cry from the ubiquitous stench which I had been enclosed in. But my relief was short-lived. A broad-shouldered figure was looming over me, with wide arms and legs, his stocky hair which always stood on edge. I recognised him, his protruding nose, his crowded front teeth, and his overtly huge ears. I knew how he always paced in front of the locked door of my cell, guarding me and my plans to escape. I took a step back, but landed back in the black, harshly cold water, which sloshed on my face. My eyes stung and my mouth tasted of silt. The man laughed, held my mousey hair in his enormous palms, and dragged me back to a pair of sliding glass doors, doors that I hoped to never enter. 

. .  . 

My heart was skipping beats continuously, my wet and pruney fingers trembling in rage and fear. I had promised myself that I would do it on the first day of spring, escape and being anew, but now, my vision blurred as tears of sorrow and fury escaped my eyes, drenching the pearly white pillow with their salty stains. I had been washed, dressed and ordered to wait in my room until the doctors arrived at a reasonable decision. My mouth no longer tasted of that dreadful dirt, but the horror had not left me, the horrors of what might be done to me. Would they torture me? Would they force me to engage in yet another traumatising experiment? Would they… kill me? I sat up, drowning in cold sweat. Bitter black coffee still stood on the white side table, while the white chest of drawers housed my aprons, tunics and quotidian medicines and injections. Everything about the room was white, the walls, the ceiling, the door, even the windows were painted white, so that I couldn’t be the victim or cause of any harm. It was for protection from the dangers of the outside, but right now the only protection I needed was from the people who intended to help me. Or did they? 

Then I heard it. Rapid, urgent footsteps from outside the door; they were hard to miss. I shut my eyes so tightly that they hurt, hearing the key turning into the lock, the creaking of the door when opened, the clearing of a throat, and a sharp but familiar voice, saying, “Open your eyes, H14. It’s time.” Reluctantly, I let my eyes open. There were five of them. With their white lab coats, crisp black pants, translucent gloves and scientific equipment, they were hardly unnoticeable. One could almost laugh at how identical they looked. “H14, you have disobeyed the order. You have stepped against the law of the laboratory.” I quivered in shame and apprehension. Ever since I had been hauled back in this prison, I had dreaded this moment. “You are not permitted to leave even you chamber unsupervised, unless commanded to, and you have endeavoured to escape the institution altogether.”  

The doctor’s hawk-like eyes bored holes in me. All I wanted to do was reach out and squeeze her pale throat, watch the light leave her eyes, watch her choke and struggle and splutter for life and mercy. But fear prevented me from doing so. Fear filled me with the utmost thoughts. Thoughts of what might happen, thoughts of what they might make me do. Trap me in another simulation, or force me to break the walls with my mind? Or they might just lock me in the dark, abandoning me with nothing but the pitch-black blanket of darkness that blinded me every time I was imprisoned in that nightmarish place of confinement. 

“That’s enough, Britta,” a deep, throaty voice entered the room, echoing with reproach. A slightly wrinkled, hoary headed man walked towards me, as the crowd of doctors parted, as if to give him a platform to promenade on. He knelt in front of me, and I felt a wave relief roll over me. One person who had always kept his hand on my shoulder, and he had returned to support me again. “Dada?” I whispered. He smiled. A forced smile, but a smile it was. “You are aware that what you have done is wrong.” I gulped in submission. As kind and soothing as his voice was, his eyes blazed with a similar savagery that was in the minds of the other doctors. His eyes resonated his cruel barbarity. “Never… leave… again,” he whispered sternly with gritted teeth, while he grabbed my forearm and dug his nails into my flesh. With that, they left. But they didn’t leave my room, but the world altogether. I stared at the ceiling above them, and concentrated as the cement and plaster gave away, crushing the bodies beneath. 

The commotion was heard, and people entered frantically, but it had been a long time since my escape. Focusing on the white windows, I forced the glass to shatter. Grunting and struggling, I managed to squeeze myself through the broken window, while shards of glass lacerated my arm, causing warm blood to pour through the crevasses of my skin, leaving scarlet traces on the window pane. I closed my eyes and imagined my destination: out of the gates. I saw it all: tall hedges growing on both sides of the foreboding gate, concealing anything that lay beyond. Its rusty iron turned pale in the moonlight, while the barbs near the top of the gate threatened to impale the hardest of boulders. Tall rhododendron bushes cast shadows on the gravel leading to the driveway, while the dim letters at the crown of the building read “Charleston Laboratory.” I saw it all, and when I opened my eyes, I was exactly where I had imagined myself to be. Weary and exhausted, I collapsed on the pavement, gasping for breath. Perspiration dripped from my forehead, while my arms were drenched with the carmine of my blood.

It happened again: sirens wailed, lights blinded my eyes, a cacophony of voices could be heard overhead. But this time, I didn’t rely on the dingy sanctuary of a sewer. Directing my energy towards the edifice that I used to call home, I gazed grimly at every curve and edge of it. The dull, gunmetal grey of the walls, the identical windows, the rusted iron of the door handles, behind which hid veiled secrets and masked threats. I realised my success when I saw the first of the speck of crumbling dust. I stared at the building harder, channelling my resentment towards every nook and cranny. And then all at once, it collapsed. All that was left was a rubble. A rubble of brick, glass, plaster and iron. But most importantly, a rubble of corpses. Corpses of monsters that had aimed to torture, imprison, and kill. 

With that, I turned my back, and left.