Seven

Chapter 8- The Thief

The hours seemed to roll by slowly for Mario while he waited to make his much awaited escape. He had been sitting on his bed, staring out the window as the afternoon sun was setting. Soon, he thought to himself, he'd be free from this nightmare. He'd go back home, release Soren, beg for her forgiveness. Because after what Mario had just witnessed, he was more than ready to confess his sins and gladly make things right. Even if it meant he went back to prison.

Thinking back, he wondered why he let vengeance overtake him and turn him into a person he didn't know anymore. Six years of his life were already wasted. He couldn't afford to waste anymore.

He thought about his mother and what she would tell him if she knew what a mess he had become. He could hear her voice so clearly, as if she were right there with him. The smell of her lavender scented lotion briefly filled his nostrils, bringing about that familiar feeling of emptiness.

"It's never too late to make things right," she would tell him. "Admit when you're wrong. Pay your dues. If you do that, you'll always be a free man."

He was ready to go back to Atlanta and face whatever awaited him. Because his mother was right. He would be free if he just confessed to what he had done. There would be consequences, no doubt, but maybe they would go easy on him considering he served time for another man's crime. Whatever the case, it was better than what waited for him here.

So when the clock struck six o'clock, he was at the window, ready and waiting. With each ding, his heart started to beat faster and faster. He was nervous, but he was determined to make this leap and get the hell away from this awful place no matter who he had to go through.

Finally, the clock made it's final chime for the hour and Mario opened the window. But something was different than it was before. The view...it was almost...too perfect. He stuck his hand out the window and furrowed his brows in confusion when he touched something solid.

As he examined it closer, he realized it was just a painting. He tried pushing it away and when that didn't work, he started punching. When that still didn't work, he grabbed the iron fire poker and began beating it.

But nothing happened.

"No. No, no, no, no, no," Mario whispered to himself, looking around the room in a panic.

He raced out into the hallway to meet Richard's sinister grin.

"Can I help you, sir?" he asked.

Mario ran past him and down the hallway, looking in every direction for a window. He spotted one at the end of the hallway, so he made his way over, not worried about who was watching at this point. He was desperate.

He opened the window and cried out when he saw this window was also rigged to look like it had a view. Had it always been like this? Mario was certain when he checked the window when he first got here, he saw the front yard, with the driveway that led out to the highway. He remembered plotting his escape, the exact route he would take.

Now, all that was gone.

They were trapped inside. And that realization sent Mario spiraling out of control. He looked around, panting for each breath as the panic began to overtake him. He spotted Richard's unsettling smile just down the hallway. The way he was watching him, as if he was enjoying Mario's desperation.

Mario stalked towards him, ready to tear him limb from limb, but a small hand clasped around his arm and pulled him back.

"Stop!" Carmen called out. "If you go after him, you're as good as dead!"

"I'm as good as dead anyway!" he shouted at her.

"You're losing it! Get yourself together!" she demanded, slapping his cheek.