Chapter 2

Four Years Later

Seattle State Prison

The sharp clang of metal echoed through the cellblock as two guards strolled past my cell, their conversation low and filled with disinterest. The pungent smell of cigarettes wafted into the room, making me cough. I’d never liked the smell of cigars, but tonight, I’d have to endure much worse.

I sat on the thin mattress of my cot, staring at the cracked ceiling, counting each second that passed. My heart raced with anticipation and fear. It was Saturday—the day prisoners were allowed a semblance of freedom. Some roamed the perimeter; others congregated in the cleaning house. This small reprieve was my opportunity.

The sound of keys jangling broke my thoughts. A female guard appeared outside my cell, her face hardened by years of service.

“Sadie Manchester. Elaine Rivera.”

I stood, exchanging a glance with Sadie, my cellmate and closest ally. Together, we followed the guard down the cold corridor toward the cleaning house. Sadie had been my lifeline, my confidante. She listened when the weight of the world became too much, and tonight, she was my partner in crime.

The cleaning house buzzed with activity. Prisoners busied themselves with washing machines or chatting in low tones. I scanned the room, noting the sparse presence of guards. Most of them patrolled the second block tonight. Perfect.

A figure sidled up behind me.

“Got everything you asked for,” Cora- another inmate- whispered, her eyes darting nervously around the room. She handed me a small bottle of petroleum, her fingers trembling.

“You’re seriously not gonna torch the place, are you?” she asked, her voice laced with doubt.

“Not the whole place,” I replied with a smirk. “Just enough to cause a distraction.”

Sadie grabbed my arm. “Are you sure about this?”

“As sure as I’ll ever be,” I said, dumping a pile of laundry into one of the machines. My hands worked quickly, pulling out a small pocketknife I’d swiped from a guard weeks ago. With precision born of desperation, I pried open the side panel of the washing machine, exposing a tangle of wires.

“Elaine!” Sadie hissed, her eyes wide.

Ignoring her, I manipulated the wires until sparks flew, followed by a plume of smoke. The faint hum of the machine turned into a sputtering growl.

“Damn,” Sadie muttered, shaking her head. “You’re good.”

“Four years in here does that to you,” I said, my lips twitching into a grin.

I stood and shouted, “The machine’s about to blow! Everybody out!”

Chaos erupted as inmates scrambled for the exit. Two guards burst into the room, their faces contorted with confusion.

“What’s going on?” one barked.

I pointed to the smoking machine and bolted toward the door, Sadie and Cora on my heels.

Outside, I turned to Cora. “The petrol.”

She handed me the bottle, her eyes brimming with tears.

“If this works and you make it out…” Her voice broke. “I’ll miss you, Elaine.”

I hugged her tightly. “Thank you. For everything.”

She nodded and stepped back. Sadie was next.

“You sure you don’t want to come with me?” I asked her, my voice thick with emotion.

She smiled sadly. “You have a daughter to get back to. I don’t have anyone. This prison is my home now.” She's been in here for sixteen years now, and I can't even imagine how that must've been for her.

Tears blurred my vision as I embraced her. “When I’m out, I’ll find a way to help you. I promise.”

“Go,” she urged, pushing me toward the washroom.

With trembling hands, I poured a trail of petroleum across the floor. The sharp scent filled my nose as I struck a match. The flame roared to life, licking hungrily at the fuel.

Shouts erupted behind me as I slipped into the shadows, using the chaos as cover. I crouched low, weaving through the maze of buildings until I reached the outer gate.

A hand clamped down on my arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The guard’s voice was gruff, but he didn’t anticipate my next move. With a swift knee to his stomach, I sent him sprawling to the ground. He fumbled for his whistle, blowing it sharply before I could stop him. Panic surged as the sound echoed through the yard, alerting the others.

I ran.

“For Autumn,” I whispered, forcing my legs to move faster.

The gate loomed ahead, tall and imposing. My hands gripped the cold metal as I began to climb, each rung burning against my palms. I was halfway up when I felt hands yank me back.

“No!” I screamed, thrashing wildly as I hit the ground. Pain radiated through my skull, but I couldn’t stop. Not now.

A guard pinned me down, his weight crushing the air from my lungs. I reached for his sidearm, pulling the trigger without hesitation. The shot rang out, and he crumpled, clutching his leg.

More guards were closing in, their shouts mingling with the wail of sirens. I spotted a small door near the base of the gate and bolted for it.

On the other side was the free yard—and beyond that, the outer wall. The last barrier between me and freedom.

The floodlights from the watchtower swung in my direction, and the deafening thrum of a helicopter filled the air.

“Seriously?” I muttered, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

The sewer pipe was just ahead, partially concealed by overgrown grass.

“Stop right there, or I’ll shoot!” a voice shouted behind me. Better death than living another day here without my baby.

Ignoring the warning, I wrenched the pipe open and crawled inside, the stench of decay assaulting my senses. The narrow space forced me to move slowly, my knees scraping against the rough surface.

When I emerged, I slammed the cover shut, blocking the path behind me. The rain had started, soaking my clothes as I stumbled into the woods b ut it managed to risne the filth I had acquired from the sewer off of me.

Bullets whizzed past me, splintering the bark of nearby trees. My ankle twisted on a root, but I pushed forward, driven by the thought of Autumn.

The river roared ahead, swollen from the downpour. A narrow bridge spanned the churning water, its wooden planks slick with rain.

My pulse pounded as I sprinted toward it, my legs screaming in protest. The guards were gaining on me, their shouts growing louder.

Then, pain.

A searing, blinding pain tore through my back. I staggered but didn’t stop. Another shot rang out, and my ankle buckled beneath me.

I fell.

The world tilted as I tumbled over the edge of the bridge, the icy water swallowing me whole. The current pulled me under, its strength relentless. I fought to surface, gasping for air as the rain pelted down.

For a moment, I let the river carry me, my body battered but alive.

“For Autumn,” I whispered again, clinging to the hope that she was out there, waiting for me and I had to make it out of here alive.