Chapter 4 - Freedom

It's been a week since Morris' disappearance, and things seem to have settled.  People are upset rather than angry, and talk of God's vengeance is already circulating through the cells.  More and more of us have drilled through to our neighbours, and so the community is almost entirely connected again.

Now that the pole has returned to Daphne, she's working on widening the gap between our cells, whilst I'm drawing a map of the asylum.

On this floor, there are 495 cells, split into 4 groups of 100 and one group of 95. The groups 1-4 arranged in  straight lines, facing towards the centre of the room, where the group of 95 cells sits.  We're in group 1, containing cells 1 to 100.

"Hey!  Rosanne!"
I turn to face Daphne.  The hole could easily fit me through it.  "Oh my God!  Awesome!"

I lie on my front and carefully wriggle through it into Daphne's cell.

She squeals in excitement, grabbing me and hugging me so tightly I need to draw back for air.

We sit, talking for ages about the asylum, our past lives, our friends, our family...until we hear the slam of a metal door.  "S**t..."
"Rosanne?"
"I need to get back through..."
"Why?"
"The guards are coming!"
I inhale and scramble back into my cell, desperate for a few extra seconds.

I'm only just back into my cell when I hear the click of the locks, before my door swings open, and a man walks in, dressed in bulletproof armour and holding a baton.  I press my back against the hole in the wall.

"Privilege.  2 hours.  Don't make me think otherwise."

I gasp.  Privilege?  Really?

He turns and walks out, leaving my door open, inviting me out into the open space, where I can already see familiar faces.  Mavis, the ex-nurse in 55; Q, the one without a tongue in 54; Damien, the boy with one eye in 51...

I grin and carefully straighten my legs as I stand up.  They crack and click agonizingly, weak and feeble from months of never standing up.

It only takes me a matter of minutes to remember how to walk again.

"Rosanne!"

Daphne calls as she crawls through the gap into my cell. "Call me Ros."  I smile.  Rosanne takes too long to say.

"Alright, Ros.  Here's the pole back."
She hands me the pole, which is bent and blunt from the hours of work it has been used for.

I look down at it, then at the latches on my door.
"I have an idea."