I am now going, and leaving the key under the doormat.
Everything is in place, neat and clean. The clothes are washed and folded on their shelves. The floor is mopped, without any trace of dust. I leave my cell clean for the next one to come in and stay as long as he/she wants.
My cell serves me good as long as I am a convict. It's warm, and safe. It is always open and welcoming when I return from forced labor or a short-term leave. All convicts are entitled to short-term leaves, provided they show good conduct and have shown sincere remorse for their "crimes".
My cell has beautiful windows, with a beautiful view. This view is so convincing, that gives you the impression that you can go out and travel to it. Only soon you discover that the view is moving away from you, as you attempt to approach it.
It's a strange cell, my cell. I lock myself the door from inside. In theory, I can always open the door and leave. But a good convict is a convict from within... he/she accepts his/her conviction unconditionally and incorporates it in his/her guts. A good convict is him-/herself his/her first guard.
But one day, I killed my first guard and I vanquished his corpse. I keep it secret and pretend he still lives. None of the other guards have realised anything. Hence, I now have enough time to organize my escape.
Every day, I dig the wall with a teaspoon. Because, a proper escape requires that you don't leave through the door, even if it's open. You dig a hole on the wall, to give yourself more satisfaction thinking of the faces of your guards as they discover the hole behind that big poster depicting London by night, that you bought from IKEA at a discount.
What pleases me more than anything, is that the guards will stay behind with the other convicts. Their cheaply elaborated life does not differ in anything from ours, since their job is to remain among us all day long, to monitor us.
The judge granted me with a longer leave this time. I have shown good conduct, he says, and the probability of never returning from my leave is low. He's right ... I'll be back from this leave. What he does not know, is that I will return stronger and the hole on the wall grows...
