Hidden In The Shadows

6. A lonely Mage's Escape

Our plan had started to lay out its metaphorical map and my only chance of survival with it. If I was caught I would be shot dead straight away, and I was not prepared to let that happen.

No matter how crap my life would become I will always have a little demon speaking in my mind reminding me that one day it will be my chance to live. Also, I had been thinking about what Sam- the man sharing the cell with me- had said earlier. His words echoed in my head like whispers of hope circling and invading my thoughts.
"...something worth living for burning bright within you.." What kind of life did I have that was worth living for?

My subconscience mind flashbacked to the beautifully dark room with a matte white piano lurking behind proudly stood curtains.

Fate says that people come into lives for a reason, so was his reason to save me? Yet, neither he nor I was ever aware that it would come to this situation where the very memory of his breathtaking performance would satisfy the fire in my eyes and keep me worth saving. I mentally noted to thank him later- if I ever found out what he looked like.

The clock struck midnight. The nudges of my fellow prison-mates jerked me out of my thoughts and reminded me that before I was making high hopes and aspirations I needed to be free from this boxed manacle.

As if like robots, at the very second of the hour a strange looking man appeared at the gate to my freedom. His eyes had been poisoned with black ink with no trace of the white part or pupil ever being there. The rest of his features were normal apart from the scar running down his left cheek and through his pale, faded lips.

He tilted his head to the side slightly and smiled creepily allowing his features to become more like the cheshire cat. He jumped forward surprisingly and grabbed the bars of the cell, making me jump and the organ of being in my chest begin to knock at my ribs.
"Gets the newbies every time!" He cackled "Samuel Rogers" he sung, his voice creepily similar to a child doll from a horror movie "up you get!" His voice ended sternly and aggressively.

Sam nodded in my direction as the man began to unlock the door with the key which was hanging on a whole set of named keys for every door in this sewage hideout. I breathed, calming my stomping heart and setting my nerves at rest.
"Excuse me" I cleared my throat and acted confidently, in contrast to the restless organs keeping me alive "I have a very deep cut on the side of my hip and it won't stop bleeding!"

The man's entire face shot my way in surprise and he started to laugh. "Get over it you're gonna die anyway!"
"Please sir I would rather my death be inflicted on me quickly and by professionals such as yourself rather than my own clumsiness which caused me to get this cut in the first place."
I started to lift up my top and lowered my pants ever so slightly causing the grin on the man's face to widen. "It wont hurt to take a look."

He approched my side and bent down to take a look when from behind Xavier- the other guy in the cell- slammed the side of his hand into the nape of the man. With such anger and force, the head of the man bounced backwards and all of his breaths stopped altogether. He was dead. "Seems like it does hurt to take a look." Xavier commented wiping his hands on his trouser leg.

"Emi. You need to go now. Here is the key for the door to the outside world and whatever you do don't look back and keep running." Sam said looking at me sighing "please if you make it out go to this address and tell my wife that I will no longer be with her." He handed me a piece of paper and turned me around and shoved me out of the cell. "Now go!"

I turned to my right, grabbing my backpack which was lying under a table outside the prison cells and ran as fast as my useless pieces of muscles could take me. My breathing became heavy, sweat raining down my cheeks mimicking the tears that never had the chance to fall and my heart knocked louder and louder with the pounding of my feet. Knock. Knock. Knock. It deafened me almost making me break down and cry on the uneaven floor six foot under.

Too caught up in my thoughts of survival and vengeance I had not realised that someone or something was at the end of the corridor. Then I saw it. A black figure shielded with a cloak and carrying a magnanimous stick, curved at the end stared back at me. I stopped running towards it, paralysed. It was the Grim Reaper. Was my time really over?

The whizzing of a bullet punctured the back of my leg causing me to scream in agony at the pain which shot up from my leg and alerted my whole body. I looked back up and the reaper had vanished.

I heard shouting behind me, but adhered to Sam's commands and didn't dare look behind me. I limped my way to the end of the corridor, turned left and began mounting the ladder like my life depended on it because honestly it sure did. The keys were rattling on my finger as I quickly unlocked the door and heaved it wide open, exposing myself and the dingy sewageworks to fresh air and freedom. I ran out and slammed the eerie door behind me, locking it to slow any guards who were chasing me.

I limped to the end of the alley way I had appeared out of and sat on the pavement of the main road. Tears began streaming out of my eyes and down my face unwillingly. I had done it. My breath was still heavy and my heart had not recovered. I had cramps bruised into my skin and a bullet lodged into my right leg.

Observing the damage done, I looked at my right leg and was not surprised to see blood flooding out of my leg uncontrollably, staining my jeans and began to drip onto the pavements. "Hospital.. Hospital.. Hospital" I chanted and heaved myself up, limped onto the road back with integrated civilisation and plunged onto a bench at a bus stop nearby.

The bus halted at the enterence to a magnificent white marble hospital. The stench of hand sanitiser and death crawled into my nostrils causing me to scrunch my face up and breathe only through my mouth. I reached the information desk at Accident & Emergency and informed them of the excessive bleeding which was pouring out of my leg and the bullet which was carved into my muscle. They rushed me into a room filled with people shouting in agony at the needles that were being forced into them, the bandages being wrapped around their limbs, the drips being admistered into their bloodstream.

I was ushered to a bed where a band of nurses armed with morphine, antibiotics and anaesthetic crowded over me. Before long- and without my consent- there were needles being imbedded into my leg and tablets fed into my gullet and a glass of water to wash it all down.

"Okay darling, we're going to have to operate to remove the bullet from your leg." One nurse finally decided to inform me after 5 minutes of assessing my condition. "Do you have a number we can call to get a parent or guardian here?"
"Yeah sure here's my mum's number." I replied before taking my phone out of my backpack and giving her the number.

I was driven to the operating theatre, the same as I had always felt: alone. At the end of the day, no one will be there for anyone else in times of need. We have to face this world the same way we will be when we leave it: alone. The thoughts circled my head at the last moments before my mouth was covered by a mask and the anaesthetic crawled into my lungs. My eyes drifted into a heavy slumber.

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-Willowthepenguin