Straitjacket

Chapter VII

Claire walks down the aisle like she was the most beautiful creature in the world, with her white wedding gown and the pearls draped on her neck and waist.

Liam waits at the end of the altar, a triumphant smile on his lips.

No, I mutter. But I cannot move. Chains coil around my body like snakes. I descend into the darkness.

No, wait for me, Claire. Wait for me. I’m breaking out of here.

She cannot hear you, Lexie’s disembodied voice says.

I’ll be there soon, just. . . just. . .

I wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside of my dismal window. I shake off the dream I had. My mood should be considerably brighter than it has been for days. For one thing, I was finally able to crack the third cam problem last night – I was able to mess with it and acquire just the right amount of blindspots I needed for my escape. The gates were still not fixed, according to the conversations between the staff members. The only thing left to worry about is the electronic lock on my door that keeps me inside of my room from 9PM to 5AM. If the plan is to break out at midnight, then I will have to find a way to get out of my room undetected. I’m thinking I should just disable the lock from inside with a few stolen solutions from the kitchens and the staff’s laboratories.

I eagerly wait for my doors to unlock by themselves. I’ve made a considerable progress on my plan. And yet, I still feel as if I’m not going fast enough.

I have to stop the wedding.

I will.

At breakfast, Laura hands me a bowl of cereals. She smiles at me brightly as she asks, “Don’t you know what day it is today, my Lexie boy?”

Lexie drops down, taking a seat beside me and helping herself to some of my cereals. “It’s Tuesday”, she says, answering the question for me. Laura ignores her.

“Won’t you take any guess?”, Laura croons in that special way suburban moms excitedly reveal a present to their city-grown kids.

“Tell her it’s Tuesday”, Lexie repeats, wolfing down my cereal.

I just shake my head, my face contorted in angry disapproval, as if Laura just asked me to do something unreasonable. Pretend, pretend.

“It’s your birthday! Happy twenty-second birthday, dear Lexie!” She then hands me a small, brightly-colored package and fondly says, “Here’s a present for you.”

Laura then starts a lousy Happy Birthday song, in which, I’m surprised, most of the inmates joins in on singing. Though, still, a bit lousily.

In frustration, I chuck her present out of the window. Yes, it is my birthday, but I’m not a kid anymore, damnit.

“Beware: it’s happy birthday today, then it’s suddenly, oh, hello, may I have your liver? later. Anyway, happy twenty-second, Alex. I hope you get laid tonight. If you don’t . . . well, my room’s only four doors away from yours”, Lexie winks at me amidst the middle of the fourth time they sang the song. She then finishes my bowl of cereal and disappears into the now rioting crowd of inmates as Laura starts making her way back to me, getting trapped between the rows of inmates who are now starting to stand on their tables and do a weird series of dance steps in surprising unison.

I get up the table and remember something Lexie said. It’s Tuesday.

It’s the day the delivery truck comes and when they open the gates for a long period of time. My heart races up with anticipation of an impromptu escape scheme. My mind instantly plays its simulated escape play, taking into consideration the big fact that it’s in the middle of daylight. On the other hand, if I do it now, I won’t have to be bothered with my locked door problem.