Escape (Book 1)

Chapter 5

*Veronica's POV*

I sit on the couch with my fiancé as we look through a book filled with different styles of wedding invitations.
"Too formal." I say to one of them. He turns the page and he seems to really like that one. But I shake my head. "Too 'greeting card'." I say.
"Well, we have to make a decision sooner or later, you know." Sebastian says. It's true; we've been looking through this book for about twenty minutes and we haven't agreed on anything yet.
"We have time." I assure him as I pull my feet up onto the couch and scoot closer to him.
"We don't actually." he laughs. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "I mean, at some point we've got to pull the trigger on this thing."
"I don't want to rush this." I tell him. "We're only going to do it once, and we have to get it right."
He sighs as he takes the book off of his lap and sets it on the coffee table. Then he looks at me with a serious face. "Honey, can I ask you something?" he asks.
"Of course."
"Are you putting this off?" he asks while playing with a piece of my hair; twirling it between his fingers.
"What do you mean?" I prod.
"I mean. . . Are you having second thoughts?"
"No, honey, no! I'm not." I say.
"I don't know." he says. "I just can't help thinking that this is about-"
"It's not." I quickly cut him off, because I know what he was going to say; that I'm distracted and distant because of Michael. I mean, I kind of am, but how am I not supposed to be affected by it?
"I love you," I tell Sebastian as I gently run my fingers along his jawline. "and I want to be your wife."
A small smile creeps onto his face as he cups my head in his hands and kisses me.

*Michael's POV*

"Passion? What were you thinking?" Sucre vents as he paces back-and-forth in our tiny cell.
"Hey, you went for it." I say defensively while trying to hide a chuckle. His girl hasn't replied to his letter yet, and now he's antsy.
"She probably thinks I went sissy up in here. 'Passion.' You know, more than one syllable, too much talkin'. That's me from now on. One-Syllabe Sucre. Yes. No. Love. Hate. . .love!"
"Give it time." I tell him.
"Are you kidding? I proposed to her. That doesn't take time. Si or no. One syllable, man! She's supposed to come around for a conjugal on Tuesday. She's always calling me beforehand, letting me know she's coming. This time, I ain't heard a peep. You spooked her!"
Before he has time to say anything more, I hear my name.
"Scofield!" one of the guards says. "Get it together. Pope want to see you."
Sucre looks at me with a tense expression and shakes his head. "Not good, Fish. No one gets an audience with the Pope. Not unless he's real interested in what you got going on."
So, that's reassuring. . .not! Why would he want to see me? I guess I'll have to find out.

-------

"Top of your class at Loyola. Magna cum laude, in fact." Warden Pope says as I sit across from him in his office.
"I can't help but wonder what someone with your credentials is doing in a place like this." he continues.
"Took a wrong turn a few years back, I guess." I reply.
"You make it sound like a traffic infraction; like all you did was turn the wrong way up a one-way street."
"Everyone turns up one sooner or later." I say with a shrug.
"Well, the reason I called you here. . ." he says as he stands from his chair. "I noticed in your I-file, under occupation, you put down 'unemployed'. But that's not true, now, is it?" The older man walks around his desk and leans against the front of it, never breaking eye contact with me.
"I know you're a structural engineer, Scofield."
With that, he leads me to another room next to his office. In the center of the room is a model of the Taj Majal.
"Shah Jahan built the Taj Majal as a monument to his undying love for his wife. My wife is quite fond of the story; it appeals to the romantic in her. Being married to someone in Corrections. . ." he shakes his head. "Terrible job. Wouldn't wish it on anyone. And yet, in thirty-nine years, my wife has never complained. And the worst part of it is, I've never even thanked her! So because I couldn't say it, I thought, you know, I could build it."
I walk around the model, inspecting it. It's quite good; I'd almost call it magnificent. Almost.
"Come June," Pope continues. "it's our fortieth anniversary. But here, look." He points to something inside the structure, so we bend down to take a look. From the outside, it looks very good. But looking inside, I can tell that it's about to fall apart.
"See, the problem is, I build anymore, it's all gonna come down like a house of cards. That's where I was hoping you could be of assistance. For the favor, I can offer you three days of work a week in here, and it'll keep you off the yard."
"Mmm. . ." I contemplate his offer, but I know that I can't accept it. If I do, I'll be up here all the time working on this instead of working on getting Lincoln out of here.
"I can't do it." I tell him, and I can see the disappointment on his face.
"Son," he says. "it's better for me to owe you one in here than it is for you to owe me one; I can promise you that."
"I'll take my chances." I answer.
"Then we're through here." he says sadly. Turning to the door, he shouts for the guard.

*L.J.'s POV*

I sit at the kitchen table, head down, staring at my folded hands while I listen to my mom going off on me.
"Two pounds of pot? What were you trying to do, set a record?" I look up at her and try not to laugh. I tend to do that sometimes when I get in trouble, and I don't even know why! I thought I was doing a god job of hiding it, but I guess not, because she bangs her hand on the table. "It's not funny, L.J.! You could be going to jail!" she snaps.
"It's pretty obvious to me that you need some guidance."
Just then, my step-dad comes in and picks up a plate that has a sandwich on it that my mom made for him.
"Thanks." he says, and kisses Mom on the cheek before turning around and leaving the kitchen.
"From who, old Daddy Warbucks?" I ask sarcastically.
"Give him a chance." Mom says. "He's a good man."
"We've got nothing in common." I argue.
Mom folds her arms and rests them on the table, giving me a concerned look. "Where is this coming from, L.J.? Laste semester, you were getting almost all As, and now yo-" She pauses and I see a look of realazation come over her face. "It's your father, isn't it?" she asks.
"I don't have a father." I say flatly.
"It wasn't an immaculate conception, honey. Trust me." She sighs. "Maybe it's time we went and saw him."
"Mom, don't!" I protest. I can't go see him! It'll be too painful. The guy never cared much about me anyway, so how could visiting him, in prison of all places, possibly do any good?
"I'm about as excited by the prospect as you are, but something has got to give. You have got too much potential to be screwing up your life like this." With that, she turns and leaves the room.
Great. That means that she's made up her mind. I'm going to visit my dad. Oh boy. . .
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Yay, I finally updated! 😄
I have a few question for you guys... How are you liking this so far? Is it pretty easy to follow? Do you feel like I'm doing an okay job at representing the characters? Because, I feel like I might not be doing a very good job at getting into the character's minds. I mean, it seems fine as I'm writing it, but when I go and read back over it, it seems to me like it might be a little hard to follow... If it is, you can totally tell me! It won't hurt my feelings or anything. I just want to know so that I can try to do it better in the future. Especially considering that some of the upcoming characters are quite evil and devious, I want to be sure that I represent those characters personalities well. I'd really appreciate your feedback!
Okay, see you soon! 😘