Finally he was about to get out of here.
Connor was arrested at his apartment on March 5th 2014 for theft exceeding $5000, B&E, and breech of probation. How the cops found him he did not know. He must have been snitched on but couldn’t figure out by who. Maybe they tracked him down using their computers. Connor didn’t actually steal the cameras he was selling on E-Bay though, he bought them of a friend, who stole them from a local camera shop. This friend was crude in his approach, he broke in by smashing the window with a brick. Now Connor was being charged with the whole thing, even though he did nothing wrong in his mind. Well sure, you could argue a reasonable person would have be suspicious of buying so much high end photography equipment for so cheap. You could also argue being on probation was Connor’s doing as well. Connor didn’t break the window though, he wasn’t the actual thief this time, which made him innocent as far as he was concerned. He was being wrongfully accused he insisted. There was no way he could avoid the charges though. He might have had a chance if he could have afforded a decent lawyer, but he couldn’t. All that was in the past though. None of it mattered if the plan worked tonight.
Connor seduced Lisa, one of the prison guards. Lisa had 2 kids and was married to a computer programmer. Alvin or Melvin, some nerd name like that anyway. Lisa liked the comfort he provided and sought out excitement in other places, like her work. She was crazy about Connor and agreed to help him break out. Connor also knew enough to black mail her if she changed her mind or was lying about her connections.
Connor swallowed the little green pills, all 7 of the clonazepams he saved all week. He extorted them from some schizophrenic wimp who was new to jail. It was easier than taking candy from a baby. At least a baby would make a fuss if you just grab their stuff. This wimp was cowed into handing them over without a complaint. All Connor had to do now was wait and let the drugs do the work.
Connor thought about what he would do when he had his freedom again. He liked to tell himself he would stay out of trouble and lead an honest life, but he knew he was bull shitting himself. He’d probably go back to selling small amounts of weed and pills. He’d try to keep it low key and not do any actual crimes, or anything that might lead him to being accused of one. Connor also entertained the thought of going some where warm. He heard you could live like a king for just a dollars a day in poor Asian countries like Indonesia and Malaysia. He liked to think the women would be cute and submissive. He also knew better, that they would be the same as the women everywhere else in the world, just with yellow skin. The only problem is how to save up enough money to get over there and be able to retire. Connor didn’t want to be picked up over there for a crime, that’s for sure. They played a harder legal game over there than in the west. They’d probably have Connor executed by now for all the shit he done.
That’s when he started to feel it in his fingers. A light floaty feeling. Connor had done Clonazepam before, for fun. It wasn’t his favorite drug, but it was better than sobriety. This was going to be his first time ODing on it though. He only ODed once on heroin before. He managed to live through that so he wasn’t too worried about what was going to happen to him. He barely remembered the experience, except for all the drug addiction bullshit he had to sit through afterwords. Not this time though he thought.
The door to the block opened. Lisa was making her rounds. The excitement he felt at hearing her foot steps seemed to intensify the buzz.
“I am not feeling so good” said Connor as Lisa came to his cell.
“Get some sleep” Lisa responded, with a wink.
“I feel really sick.” Connor was lying. The drug was only just starting to hit and he was loving it.
“Lay down, you’ll feel better in the morning.” said Lisa as she walked away.
The plan was in motion. Now Connor would have to wait for her next set of rounds, when he really would be sick from all the Clonazepam in his system. He began to pace back and forth.
Soon he felt nausea well up in his gut and he sat down. He couldn’t sit still so he stood up, but he had trouble balancing so he had to sit down again. A tremor developed in his hands. Lisa better have been right about how much I should take he thought. For a moment he was afraid, but being sick was worth it for his freedom. The last thing he remembered was vomiting on his lap.
Connor woke up in a hospital bed with an IV in his arm. He felt awful. His body felt like it didn’t exist and weighed a hundred tons at the same time. A paradox that he had to live through. Fragments of memories coursed through his head. He remembered shouting as he was loaded into an ambulance, and the sounds of sirens. That was about all though. Connor closed his eyes to go back to sleep. Hoping he would feel better when he woke up.
He was woken up by a cute nurse. “Its gonna be alright, I’ll get the doctor” and she left the room Connor wasn’t sure how long he slept. He felt bad now, not awful, that was a huge improvement from when he woke up earlier. Soon the doctor came in and asked him about what he took, about his feelings at the time, whether or not he had suicidal tendencies, if he had history of drug abuse in his family etc. etc. It was tedious answering all of them. Connor felt like the doctor himself was fed up with all the tedium of the paper work. Like the doctor thought all these questions were stupid and trivial but had to go through them as part of his job.
Connor got assigned a week in the psych ward before having to return to jail. Not that he was planning to return. His therapist was Margret, Lisa’s friend. He had an hour long conversation each day with Margret for the first two days he was there. Margret was very professional in her approach and they only talked about Connor and his life and his history, never about her. Neither of them talked about what was supposed to happen, but they communicated with their eyes. Connor always had a nagging anxiety, that was before he saw Margret smile in understanding. He always thought maybe Lisa was bullshitting somehow, or that the plan wouldn’t work. All of these doubts were gone now.
On the third night of his stay he was woken up by a guard who handed him street clothes. Connor changed into them and the guard handed him $1000 in cash and a pre-paid cell phone. The guard staying silent the whole time. The guard then led Connor out, through all the security keeping the crazy people isolated from the rest of the hospital. The guard led him to the exit of the psychward and pointed toward an exit sign, leaving Connor to his own devices at that point.
As Connor was walking out he almost felt this too good to be true. That he was dreaming and would soon wake up. That the guard would grab him and throw him back in jail. Connor was sure he would never get out if he was caught escaping in such a brazen manner as he was. He was careful to hide his excitement and nervousness as he walked out the hospital doors. He wondered how Lisa arranged this all. He also wondered what they would say about losing a convict. Would the police be searching for him right away? How much effort would they go through tracking him down? What would happen to Lisa and Margret if people found out they helped him escape?
As Connor walked outside and inhaled the fresh air for the first time in nearly 6 months he brushed his questions aside. He was a freeman now.