Page 55 of Blood Caged

My breakfast arrives, and I wolf it down, then wait for the guard who will take me out for my walk.

The door beeps and slides open, revealing Jake’s familiar face. He’s been my escort to the garden for months now, and the sightof him sends a fresh wave of anger through me. How could I have let this routine lull me into complacency?

“Morning, Mia. Ready for your walk?” Jake asks, his tone casual.

I nod, careful to keep my expression neutral. “Of course. Let’s go.”

As we head down the corridor, I’m acutely aware of the folded notes tucked into my waistband. Jake doesn’t even give me a second glance anymore. Why would he? I’ve been the model of compliance for so long. Like I’m happy here or something.

My God. I can’t believe it.

The garden air hits me, fresh and crisp. Jake settles onto his usual bench, pulling out his phone. Perfect.

I begin my usual meandering path through the flowerbeds, but today, every step has purpose. I kneel by a cluster of daisies, pretending to admire them while I tuck a tiny folded note beneath a rock.

“These are lovely,” I call out to Jake, who barely looks up from his screen.

Moving on, I pause by a birdbath. While running my fingers through the water, I slip another note into a crevice in the stone base.

As I continue my circuit of the garden, I leave more breadcrumbs of rebellion. A message wedged in the bark of a tree. Another tucked under a decorative garden gnome. Each placement is casual, unhurried. To anyone watching, I’m simply enjoying nature.

But with each note hidden, a spark of hope grows in my chest. I’m no longer a passive captive. I’m fighting back in my own small way.

I finish my round of the garden, having placed all my notes. Jake stands, ready to escort me back inside. As we walk, I can’t help but feel a tiny thrill of victory. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

The rebellion has begun.

Mia

I barely sleep that night, my mind racing with possibilities and fears. When morning comes, I force myself to eat breakfast, even though my stomach churns with anxiety. The crispy bacon tastes like cardboard, but I know I need to keep up my strength. Plus, I can’t risk drawing attention to myself by refusing food.

As I mechanically spoon scrambled egg into my mouth, I go over the plan in my head for the thousandth time. It’s risky, but it’s the best chance we’ve got. I can’t believe it’s been ten months already. Ten months of my life stolen, trapped in this place. The thought makes my blood boil, but I push the anger down. I need to stay calm and focused.

I glance at the clock, willing time to move faster. The wait is excruciating. Part of me wants to get it over with, while another part dreads what’s to come. What if something goes wrong? What if I’m caught? I shake my head, banishing the doubts. I have to try. I can’t spend another day here pretending this is normal.

As I finish the last of my breakfast, I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves. I need to act natural when the guard comes. Any hint of suspicion could ruin everything. I stand upand move to the small sink to wash my hands and face. The routine actions help calm me, grounding me in the present.

I hear footsteps approaching my cell, and my heart rate spikes. This is it. The moment of truth. I dry my hands, plastering what I hope is a serene expression on my face. As the door opens, I silently pray to whatever powers might be listening.

Please, let this work. Let us find a way out of here.

Jake takes me along our regular route to the garden, making small talk as we go. So normal. As if life should simply work this way. That’s how I got tricked into letting my fire die down.

I won’t let it happen again.

I step out into the garden, squinting against the bright sunlight. The air is crisp and clean, unlike the sterile environment inside. I take a deep breath, savoring the scent of the outdoors. It’s almost enough to make me forget where I am. Almost.

I begin my usual walking routine, careful to maintain a casual pace. Can’t risk arousing suspicion now.

As I wander along the path, my eyes dart to the hidden spots where I’ve left my notes. Disappointment settles in my gut as I see them still in place, untouched. Has something gone wrong? Did nobody see them?

I continue walking, fighting the urge to check again.

Patience, Mia. You can’t afford to be reckless.

But as I near the end of my allotted time outside, desperation wins out. I throw caution to the wind and circle back, casually bending down as if to admire a flower. My fingers brush against the loose brick where I hid one of the notes.

My breath catches. It’s gone.

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