"The only thing they can get me for is running a funeral parlor without a license."

- John Wayne Gacy, March 17, 1942 – May 10, 1994, was convicted of sexually assaulting and murdering at least 33 teenage boys and young men between 1972 and 1978. Gacy hid 26 of his victims' bodies in his own home. He spent 14 years on before he was finally by at on May 10, 1994.

Chapter 32

What started as a gentle tap upon the cool tiled floor quickly turned into a pounding beat that resounded in the skulls of all those listening. Shoes slapping upon the ground, an ache began to creep up my legs; each step sending a slither of crippling pain through the bones of my feet. My mouth felt like it had been dried with a blow dryer, hot and desiccated, a fingernail could have scraped away its surface in one gentle swipe. A radiating buzz blocked my ears, filling my senses with numbness, keeping my mind blank. I could hear nothing, smell nothing, and feel nothing.

There was only one image at the forefront of my mind that kept me pushing forwards through the pain of my legs and the dryness of my throat, freedom. Just as the last of the air in my lungs seemed to be sucked out like a deflating balloon, I rounded the last corner to Vans' cell.

But as soon as I did, the sound of chaos reached my ears. I threw myself back against the wall, out of sight from the hallway, chest heaving from exhaustion and excitement.

"Shut up, you imp!" A thick Russian voice spat. I peaked my head around the corner, finding the Russian guard who was my original suspect gripping the bars to Vans' cell. Vans looked unaffected, smiling wickedly at the man from the other side of the bars.

"Oh, don't look so sad! Do what I say and I still wont peep a word!" Vans clapped his hands together and my eyebrows rose in confusion.

"But what about the money?"

"That was just words, words, words." Vans waved his hand, dismissing the guard. His eyes travelled from the mans face over to where I was standing, head still peaking from my hiding spot. "Emily! Just the person I was waiting for!"

I froze in shock, unsure of how to react to the events unfolding before me. I had no idea what Vans' connection to the guard was, but I was certainly intrigued. There was no turning back from my plan now, I could still escape from my prison of a life, but Vans did not need to be a part of that plan. He would only come if I trusted him, and his next words would decide his fate.

Straightening my back, I strode over to Van's cell, stopping short a comfortable distance. The guard, Alexi, looked equally as uncomfortable and uncertain as I was. He was frozen, not once did he twitch or reach for the gun I knew was hoisted under his shirt. We exchanged a glance like two strangers passing on a roadside crossing, on the same path, but going different directions.

"What is the meaning of this, Vans?" I asked cautiously, preparing to close the door to my heart before he could destroy it.

"Well, Emily. Alexi here is going to be the lucky man to help us escape." He said with a flourish of the hand and a stretched smile. I faltered and stared at both of the men in front of me with shock.

"W-what?" I stammered, taking an unsteady step backwards. Unknowingly, I had inched closer to Vans' cell and it wasn't long before his gentle hand wrapped around my own.

"Emily, its okay. He wont hurt us. In fact, he is going to make sure we aren't going to get hurt on our little adventure." He ran a hand up my arm and my nerves immediately calmed.

"But why would he do that?" I asked slowly, still unsure of how I was supposed to respond.

Vans' eyes darkened and a smile stretched onto his face. I chill pricked my spine and I passed my gaze over both of them. Alexi's eyes were equally as dark, but a smile was far from existing beneath his beard.

"Lets just say I saw something I shouldn't have, and I didn't say anything. Now he owes me." Vans pulled me closer to him, almost possessively, away from the guard. His answer did nothing but fuel the fire of curiosity that burned deep in my chest. But I bit my tongue, knowing out time was drawing thin.

"But why were you talking about money?" I pressed, needing to know I could trust him.

"I may have promised him some money for his assistance, but I don't have it. I wont have any money until we get out of here." Vans said, scratching his neck. Alexi curled his lip, unimpressed.

"Okay. I believe you." I nodded at Vans, "Now move aside, I have to unlock the door."

Vans was quick to step back and the guard scanned the hallway. I shuffled through the keys until I found the right one. My hands were no longer shaking, in unlocked in a moment, and he was free, stepping out of his cell and into freedom. His face seemed like it was washed of all impurities; suddenly becoming brighter, happier, and more relaxed.

He turned to me, eyes bright, and rushed towards me. Before I could react, I was wrapped into his arms and locked tight against his chest. I couldn't stop the smile that tugged at the corners of my lips, or the way my arms wrapped around his waist, or the warmth that filled my heart. In his arms, I was in my own personal prison, only this one I didn't want to escape from.

His lips found mine and I was swept away to my own personal bliss. To the beaches of Thailand and the forests of the Amazon, nothing could compare to the peace and serenity I felt within his arms.

Alexi cleared his throat, tearing our peaceful moment apart. I drew back and blushed with embarrassment, Vans simply looked happy.

Alexi motioned with his arm for us to follow, holding a finger to his lips.

"We don't want to excite the other prisoners. So, I'm sorry Vans, but your going to have to walk in front of me with your arms behind you. We can't have anyone seeing you free; it'll start another riot."

Flashing his wicked smile, Vans kissed my cheek and then stepped towards Alexi, hands positioned behind his back. He winked, creasing his beautiful skin.

"Sorry, Emily. We will have to start a sex riot another time." I couldn't help it; I cracked a smile and winked back.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to hold you to that." I crossed my arms, still smiling, and raised an eyebrow.

Alexi scoffed and shoved Vans forward, mumbling under his breath. I fell into step behind them, tucking the set of keys back into my pocket, unsure if I might need one again. Now that Vans was with me, my nerves had begun to set in. We were so close to finally getting out; all we had to do was get to my car without being seen, but also so close to danger. There was doubt in my mind that if I were caught then, I would be sent to prison myself. What had happened before that moment was harmless, a prank at most, but this was much bigger.

There were still no guards in the hallways; Vans said he had created a pretty big fight in the cafeteria, one that would take a while to deflate. I was shocked at how smoothly it was going; I knew the prisons guard system was bad, but I never thought it would be that bad. I was relying on the system to fail, and it had, but I expected to sneak past at least one aloof guard. It made me even more nervous; things were just going too nicely to be real.

Once we passed a crazed prisoner, gripping his bars and shaking them like an ape, a strange silence settled over our small party. Then, a gentle tapping. We had reached the front desk. A frisk of white hair could be seen from behind the desk, bobbing as the old lady tapped away at the computer screen, probably playing Spider Solitaire. Alexi ducked into a hallway and motioned me ahead. I stared at him at wide eyes, wondering what he planned for me to do. Vans stared at me equally as confused as I was.

"Distract her." Alexi mouthed, jabbing his finger towards the office lady. But I knew it wasn't that simple; not only did I have to distract her, I had to get rid of her. Behind the desk was the button that opened the automatic gate on the driveway; the only was we would be escaping by.

I bit my lip and thought for a moment. In my moment of panic, I had forgotten the plan that had already been engraved in my head. I had always known the office lady was going to be one of the obstacles we would have to overcome, I just didn't realise it would be the scariest.

Fixing my hair straight, I strode towards the front desk and began to cry.

"Oh my God! You have to help! There is someone dead in the hallway! He's covered in blood and I don't know what to do! Oh god! Please help!" I screamed, reaching over to grasp at her wrist. Her mouth dropped open in shock and she stared at me as if she had seen the dead man himself. I knew she would believe me; there were so many recent deaths in the prison, why would another one be out of the ordinary?

"Oh of course, my dear! Show me to him! I'll call the ambulance!" She reached to grab her phone but I got to her first. I latched my hand around her arm and pulled her in the opposite direction to the door, crying and screaming and pointing. "I need my phone dear—"

"You must come!" I screamed, cutting her off, pulling her further away. I looked behind me briefly to see Alexi reaching over the desk and opening the gate. No alarms would be set off, it was an authorised access.

I pulled the trembling old lady further down the hall until I saw my opportunity. The same prisoner that was shaking the bars was staring at us with hungry eyes from his bed. He was shrouded in darkness, and I knew the women would not have been able to see him.

"He's in there! Oh, I can't look! You must look! Go! Go look!" I yelled, throwing my hands across my eyes and shrinking backwards. The old lady did as I suspected; slowly creeping forwards, she inched closer to the bars and peered inside.

"I can't see anything—ah!" She screamed as the prisoner grabbed a hold of her arms and pulled her towards the bars. He held her tight and began to scream incoherent words at her face. She screamed with him, and for a moment, they created a perfect harmony of broken souls.

If I stood there a moment longer, I would have probably helped the lady free herself from the prisoners crazed grip. But before I could, I sprinted back towards the front doors, towards Vans, and towards my escape.

I burst out the front door and ran towards Vans, my feet sliding over the cement. Head tilted towards the sun, his hair and eyes glistening under light as if touched by some heavenly force and was cleansed. My hand slipped easily into his. Then we started to run. Alexi was still running beside us, but I thought nothing of it. He too was running from something. But he wasn't running for long.

A gunshot split the air in half and ripped through Alexi's chest. He fell; crumpled on the pavement, blood spreading over the white surface like a beautiful splash of red paint.

At the door of the prison, Chris Welsh stood, smoke pealing off the barrel of the gun in his hand. 

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