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American Murderer

By
“American Murderer Escaped From Prison Last Month.” That is what the headline on the front of the European paper I bought earlier today read. It did not matter how many warnings the media broadcasted on the airways, no one would ever locate me. If only a way opened up for me to travel back in time and stop my young self from making that mistake; I would pounce on the chance. To think the entire affair happened because of one miniature party at my girlfriend’s house. I remember it in full detail what occurred that unfaithful night.
*****5 years earlier*****

August 7th, 1994, twelve o’clock in the morning, the party began in the cramped Wichita apartment. Blaring music could be heard echoing through the entire complex, upsetting all the aged residents trying to catch Z’s. Every one of Jane’s (my girlfriend) and my friends were either busting moves on the lighted dance floor or drinking from the makeshift bar in the kitchen. Jane was constantly nagging at me to remove my butt from the couch and dance with her, but I did not feel willing to move my body an inch. If only I had known that would be the last time I ever lay eyes on my girl , I would have danced like there was no tomorrow.

Crash! “AHHHHHHHH!” a girl’s voice screamed.

“Oh my gosh! Jane just fell through the window,” gasped one of my friends who sprinted into the bedroom to see what just occurred. “And I think she died.”

“Quick someone call the police or something,” I choked as tears began to well up inside of me, “Hurry!”

Brandon, a personal friend, flipped open his phone and dialed the number “911, a woman just fell out of a window down 20 stories and then landed on a bush.”

I began to hear the police sirens firing up in the distance and steadily becoming louder. Within a few minutes an ambulance surrounded the dead body and police officers began to questioning the members of the party. Another detective could be seen investigating the body to see if there were any hints to why Jane fell.

“Whose fingerprints are on the back of this girl’s body?” quizzed the detective.

I remember hearing this after the police officer ceased questioning the partiers’, right before I left the building to seek the solitude of my place. Swelling up with tears, I left the complex via the back door, because I could not bear to see Jane’s maimed body lying on the cold dirt.

“I believe they are the prints of Jake Burton, the girl’s boyfriend,” replied the assistant while closing his laptop.

“Where is the boyfriend?” asked the detective, “Bring him here before he escapes too far.”

By that time I had started to run, not because I was guilty, but because tears sting my eyes and all I wanted was to cry my heart out. I wanted to remember the only girl that ever accepted me in my entire life. Before I could reach my house, the police sirens chased me down and I was tasered in the back. Cold pavement was the last feeling I felt before black filled my vision.

Following the next day, I woke up with hands cuffed which had also been chained to arms of an ugly metal chair. All around me the room was filled with the gruesome stench of blood. This place was not going to yield a pleasant result.

“Ahhh, you’re finally rousing, so fine of you to join us,” taunted a deep voice over an intercom.

“Why am I here!” I yelled to no one, “Why have I been cuffed to this chair?”

“You are here because that girl’s death was caused by you!” came from the voice of a man striding through the now open door, dressed in a crisp suit that gave the appearance of being new. He also had a small badge that read detective on it.

“Why would I kill the love of my life?” countered my voice audaciously; tears began to form at the thought of the dead body.

“That’s what they all say, anyway, you are only here for a short time before they send you to a life in prison,” he replied with a smirk on his face, “I just wanted to talk to you before you are sent off.”

“What! I’m going to thrown in jail for something I didn’t even do,” I shouted at the man, but it did not matter because he had already left the room and two police officers stood in his place. Unlocking the cuffs, the men yanked me through the door into a police car. Then I was taken on a longevity ride through the state where we then arrive at an enormous gray wall that was lined at the top with barb wire. Scattered around the perimeter, a numerous watchtowers spied the activities of the occupants. After the automobile passed through the front gate, a small group of soldiers arrived at the doors of the car. My door was opened and I was cuffed again by the new escorts and taken to a smaller building inside the complex.

Gagging was the first thought that came to mind as I entered with the putrid smell of feces and vomit hitting my nose. Once we arrived at my cell, I saw who I was going to room with for the rest of my life.

“Get in the cell,” the guard ordered, “The warden will talk to you tomorrow.” Then the guard slammed the cell door with a loud boom.

After I had entered, I began to inspect my cellmates. One was a prodigious black man. He reeked of blood similar to what I had experienced earlier in the small room, he also had tattoos covering his arms and legs.

“What you in for, newbie?” questioned the wide set black man.

“Killing my girlfriend,” I did not want to sound like I was too soft or else I was going to be torn to pieces by these people.

“Nice,” he replied, “I’m Big T, and I’m here for armed robbery and assault of an officer.”

The other person that sat in the corner was very small, by the looks of it only 5 foot at most. He did not have any tattoos, but he did have a numerous amount of cut marks on his tan skinned legs.

“Who’s he?” I asked pointing my head at the person in the corner.

“That’s Mike, he’s in for grand theft auto,” answered Big T, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Jake, now were can I go to sleep?” I asked already feeling my body beginning droop and shut down.

“You are sleeping on the top bunk, but don’t expect sleeping for a while, everyone is going to be taunting you,” Big T stated.

Pulling my sleeping body up to the stiff slab of concrete, I drifted off in to one of the worse night sleeps to ever hit me. Jane continually falling to her death over and over again was all I could picture in my brain as I tossed and turned like being punched several times in a row.

Smack, was what I woke up to as my head slammed into the solid ground.

“Sleeping Beauty, the warden would like to see you now,” taunted the guard located right outside the door, a smirk covered his face and he was pointing at me. I was then strip searched, cuffed, and escorted into a new complex that smelled like a pine forest. Both guards then cuffed my arms and legs to the chair. After I was completely strapped down, an aged man entered with wrinkles covering his face, wearing a suit similar to the one being worn by the detective.

“Hello Jake Burton, I am the warden of the establishment, my name is unimportant to you so you may just call me warden,” he spoke in a soft voice, “The only reason that I have called you here is to tell you how you will live out your life here in this prison. You will begin each day by getting a tray of food through the door slot. If you do not return any of the utensils, the guards will come in and you will be taken to solitary confinement. Every day you will have a workout session outside where you can run, lift weights, or do manual labor also every week you will be allowed to take a two minute shower. You will spend the rest of the time in your cell and wait for a dinner tray that will again be slid through the slot, the same rules apply.”

“Why do I have to spend the rest of my live here, I didn’t even kill Jane,” I protested to the old man.

“I don’t care what you did; I’m not here to be your friend all I’m here for is to make sure you all stay in between the four walls of this prison. Now go, I have had enough with you.” he ordered while beckoning the guards to remove me from his office.

Once I returned to my cell, I was taken to workout side. I saw that what the warden had said was basically true. A pile of rocks was in the corner, I believe that was were you could perform manual labor. A small ripped up track surrounded a work out area that included bar bells and small weights. Running was the activity that I chose to do, because I was too weak to lift weights or break large rocks. Later that night I began to question my cellmates on how people before have tried to escape.

“Well, there was one who tried to beat up a guard with a tray, that didn’t work out too well. There was another who tried to throw a bar bell at a guard which also didn’t work,” Big T informed me while inhaling his meal.

“What about digging, has anyone tried that,” I asked while picking through the grotesque bit of food in my hand.

“No, no one has ever tried to do something a simple as digging out,” replied Big T.

“Then I have a plan,” I said, a smile beginning to form on my face.

For the next couple of months, everyday Big T and I would dig in the far corner of the workout area, pretending to break rocks. Finally, we had successfully dug a hole under the wall to the other side of the wall, which was difficult, because every minute we would have to show our head so that the guards would not suspect anything. Later that day when I was with Big T, we decided to escape that day.

“You ready,” I asked about to toss my cookie due to the nauseating feeling of finally escaping this wretched prison.

“Yes, you go first,” he instructed looking around to see if anyone was near.

I felt horrible about what was going to happen next. Yesterday I took a pile of dirt and heaped it on other side of the wall. With great quickness, I slid through the hole and popped out on the other side. With the pile of dirt, I shoved it over the hole and packed the dirt over the hole.

“What are you doing,” Big T yelled from below the ground.

“I’m innocent you’re not, I deserve to leave and you deserve to rot in jail,” I screamed through the packed dirt.

Sirens already started to blast out of the jail. Luckily for me there was a car dealership near the walls of the prison. Again another stroke of luck occurred when I found the keys in the ignition. Starting up the engine, I slammed my foot on the accelerator and jetted out of the lot. No one could hinder me now.

Leaving the country was all I could think about as I arrived at the airport and bought a ticket to Europe. That was the last time I would ever be set foot on American soil again.
*****2 years after the heading came out in the paper*****

I was walking alone the beautiful countryside of Scotland when I heard someone yelled out “No one ever crosses me.” A gun shot fired, I never woke up again.



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