“We’ll get you out” My wife says
“I miss you daddy” My daughter says.
“We’ll get it next time “ My lawyer says.
“There won’t be a next time” My cellmate tells me.
Believe me he’s tried damn hard. He’s tried every trick in the book but now there’s no money and no one wants to try anymore.
“We’ll do it ourselves” he says, with a dead serious look in his eye. He has the plan, he knows a man, you hear it all over the yard as soon as the guards are out of earshot. Last man who tried made it 10 yards before sniper shot him through the heart. He fell to the ground and started to crawl so they shot him again but they missed. As his guts spilled out around him and fluids you’re not supposed to see spilled around him and coursed through him the men looked at each other in despair. If you can’t do it yourself no one can.
Still the man moved but he soon slowed and the only movement was his one last twitch. The gunman took this as another attempt and shot him again. This time he hit the target. The man’s head splits open and there’s no more movement. Only blood slipping down the gutter, Desperation is the worst trait in a man.
This I tell my cellmate is what will happen to him if he tries. He doesn’t care he says and regurgitates the same old hope in hushed tones as I lie in my dark cold bed and dream of Italy.