CRIMINAL.

CHAPTER 18

I sit outside of the Miami prison in a car I "borrowed" from the Miami airport a few minutes ago.

Getting to the airport and flying to Miami was a piece of cake. No one recognized me at all. Not even the person who checks your ID cards before you board the plane. When I walked out of the airport, I knew I wouldn't make it walking to the prison building. So I went up to the parking lot where all of the cars were and picked out the first car I saw which was just a dark blue van. I figured it was big enough to hold everyone so I hot-wired it which Scott taught me how to do and drove the car here.

I've been sitting here ever since with the A.C. on high and the headlights shut off so it put me in total darkness.

How was I gonna break them out of there?

Walk in and say, "Hi. I'm here to get a group of gang members who kidnapped me, stole some things, and killed other people out of jail"?

They'd arrest me for sure.

I was going to have to use force.

Good thing I decided to pack black clothing.

I take my white T-shirt off, leaving me in my long-sleeved black shirt, and dig into my suitcase to find my ski mask. I slip it on, readjusting the eye holes and mouth hole so I can see and breathe.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

On my third breath, I shut off the van, the rumbling stopping and slip my Swiss Army knife into my back pocket. I shut the door and start to run towards the prison building. I press my body against the wall once I'm close to it and stay silent and listen for anything kind of sound.

Footsteps, voices, anything.

I hear nothing.

Only the rush of a few cars and the bark of a nearby dog.

When I'm sure that the coast is clear, I run towards the front entrance, but stop and duck down when I see two guards standing in front of it. I swallow hard. How am I gonna get in there? I think and look up at the roof. There has to be a back door. All I have to do is climb over the roof and go back there.

I thank God for giving me the ability to climb as I grab the pole leading up to the gutter and swing my legs up. I start inching my way up to the roof one by one, stopping each time to listen for any noises. I push and shove my way up. I pull and struggle, my hands already burning from the cold, dirty metal of the pipe. When I'm finally up at the gutter a few long minutes later, I grab onto the side of the roof and pull myself up, grunting with the effort. I lay on my back for a few long seconds, staring up at the dark, starry sky that's taking on a dark redness before I sit up and start running across the large, flat roof to the other side.

I look down. I'm about five feet above the ground.

If I jump, I'll break a bone or worse, die.

I'm going to have to climb down.

I'm about the sit down on the side of the roof when I spot a dumpster just a few inches away. I sprint up to it and look down. It looks like it's filled with dark plastic bags and white sheets with dark stains of them. I'm gonna regret this later, but if jumping into a dumpster filled with blood-and-piss stained means saving my love and my friends, then so be it.

I take a deep breath and say a silent prayer to God before I jump from the roof. This is more thrilling than when I jumped from my roof a few hours ago. I'm flying, my arms outstretched before I'm drowning in a foul-smelling pile of plastic trash bags and bed sheets. I pop up out of the dumpster, gasping for air like I was just in water for more than a second. I grab the sides of the dumpsters and lift myself out of the dumpster.