Chapter 5A

        Should I try to escape? I thought. Well, the windows are bolted shut, and the door’s locked…
Wait a second…
Hold on…
What if the door was open? What if Roy left it open? I thought back to it again…
He said slowly. “Just remember…the door’s wide open…”
“No it’s not!” I yelled.
But he just turned, walked straight out the door, and slammed it shut. I could hear his footsteps retreating away, one last time…
And then it came to me. Roy hadn’t locked the door. In fact, he’d told me it was open. I’d thought he’d been talking about it in a metaphorical sense, but perhaps he was telling the bold truth and leaving it hidden in plain sight…or hearing…
What are you doing, Ashely? THE DOOR IS OPEN. ESCAPE! And I ran to the door and was about to turn the knob when it all came crashing down.
However clever Roy’s ‘riddle’ had been, he had forgotten that I had no idea how to get out of this place. I didn’t even know what floor I was on. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my sweater and leaned against the door with a sigh. The crumpled paper was still in there, and it scraped my knuckles, giving me a paper cut. I began to curse and angrily pulled it out and opened it, ready to rip it up with a vengeance.
But when I opened it, it wasn’t an interview…it wasn’t even an interview response. It was a grid with numbers and letters and words. Wow, Roy’s an idiot, I thought. He couldn’t even give me the correct paper to give to my slave-traders.

        Then it hit me. That piece of paper…was a map. A MAP. I just had to find where I was and leave and…why would Roy save me? Well, it didn’t matter now. I flung open the door and sure enough, the guard was knocked out. I knew there were probably cameras everywhere, so I ran as fast as I could, using the map as a guide, seeing the numbers on the halls and finding my way to the stairs. I jumped down each flight, flying down until I saw the number one on a door. I burst through it, my feet tingling, my heart racing, with no thoughts but GET OUT. I saw a door, I saw a huge window to the cold snow-coated outdoors, and ran to it. I could hear heavy footsteps on the stairs, coming to take me, from myself. And the door wouldn’t open. It was jammed. I banged it and banged it and it wouldn’t open. And smashed it with my feet, the footsteps getting closer, desperate now, tears running down my face, they were probably on the second floor now, about to come and see me…