❛ 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 '𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐄'𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓! ❜
⸻ when the enigmatic boy transforms
the redhead's quiet life into a dangerous
world of freedom, leading her t...
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MARCH 7th, 1990
00:58AM
LUCAS BARELY SLEPT. Adrenaline coursed through his veins at high speed as he thought about what would happen next. What he was about to do. Of course, it wasn't the first time he was in prison, but it was the first time he was going to escape.
Whenever a guard passed by his cell, Sinclair pretended to be asleep so as not to arouse suspicion. He kept an eye on the watch Max had given him so he would know when to start.
He knew that the guards change shifts around 1 AM, so it was the perfect time to escape. Since neither the incoming nor the outgoing guards were really paying attention to the inmates.
Lucas sat on the bunk and watched his cellmates. He made sure his cellmates were already asleep - not a difficult task since they all snored loudly. He put the gun hidden under his pillow in his pocket and walked down the steps to his bunk.
As he approached the bars of his cell, walking on tiptoe so as not to make any noise, he came upon a guard "on watch" sitting asleep in a chair to the left of his cell door. Perfect. Furthermore, the bunch of keys was about to fall out of his pocket. Lucas couldn't help but smile mischievously. One man's sloppiness is another man's gain.
The young man crouched down and reached his arm through the bars to carefully grasp the keys, thankful that their jingling hadn't woken the sleeping man. Finding the key to his cell wouldn't be difficult, as all the keys were numbered by cell number. He couldn't believe it would be so easy.
Within seconds, Lucas had left his cell and locked it again. But, obviously, it wasn't going to be that easy. Unfortunately for him, the guard was a light sleeper and woke up shivering, but lucid enough to realize that some smart guy was about to run away.
But Lucas was smarter, and in addition to the key, he took the baton from the guard's belt.
A few seconds later, he had knocked the guard unconscious, hitting him over the head with the baton. Sinclair remained motionless as he heard the deafening thud of the blow echo down the long corridor of cells. He heard a few inmates move on their mattresses, but not much else. At least for the moment.
As he watched the guard lying on the floor, he realized that he wouldn't be able to walk through the dimly lit prison corridors in that garish orange uniform. So he had no choice but to do a little outfit swapping with the sleeping guard.
