Hair sticking to my neck from sweat, I stand, peering through the bars. No ones there, no guard, no person.
I smirk, foolish. My father was smart enough to make sure every single last criminal was dead before they could do something worse.
Sliding the pin I keep in my hair for this exact situation, I snake my arm through the bar. Jabbing it into the key hole, I work my way through, the door soon swinging open.
I escape the cell, darting into the room down the hall. Throwing open all the drawers and desks, I obtain my knife and handgun. Since I don't have anywhere to place my shotgun, I stick my handgun into my belt, giving my old gun a nod.
I know it seems stupid to do that, but I had that shotgun since I was nine years old. With that thing I felt in charge.. In control of everyone and everything around me. Now I had to leave it behind.
"Really? You're sad about leaving your gun? You know how much I hated this whole thing."
I sigh. "I know, mom, I know."