I hate Christmas. Yes! There I said it. I hate it! For a middle class black woman in her early thirties, who once lived in the outskirts of town, with two kids, and a hard working husband, I sure hated it.
Though the jolly and gifts are fun, but the efforts in making Christmas "fun", is a whole load of stress I'd rather avoid.

Christmas has always been a day to celebrate the birth of Christ, so why all the theatrics? What's the need for the overly decorated porches, the cards, cookies and milk, extremely expensive dinner parties, and don't even get me started on the socks... Why the hell would there be socks on a birthday? They might as well add a jockstrap to the list, if that's what y'all are playing at.

For as long as I can remember, my Christmas has always been pretty fucked up. As a kid, my brothers made it their life's mission to make my Christmas a beautiful hell, from writing "Merry Christmas asshole" on my cards, and sending them out with my name signed with glitter as the sender, to exchanging my presents with the mailman's, dipping their toothbrushes in my glass of milk when ever I looked away, and the little demons would go as far as licking the ginger breads and cookies I spend hours to bake, and put them back in the plate so that I'll eat them. Yuck!

Those tiny little brown devils were all shades of despicable.

And with my own kids, it was like taking a stroll through hell avenue, with a butler offering a plater of freshly dished torment.

I still remember rampaging through the mall like a wounded bloodthirsty beast, searching for the toy of Luke Skywalker in a flying ship, shooting laser guns, and something called Jade-eye... What the heck is Luke Skywalker? And who the hell is this jade-eye? Seriously, how can ships fly... Is it some sort of a Peter pan pirate ship? Honestly, I don't understand kids of this century: the way they think is different from the way our mommas taught us to.

On December twenty seventeen, while you were singing carols, exchanging gifts, and keeping up with the festivity, I spent my whole eve taking prescription pills to stay sane, and the next day undergoing therapy sessions to speed up my mental recovery, and probably help the poor me get over the loss of my family, still in the same Graceland psycho booth, and well, y'all also know how that story goes.

For twenty-eight years, Christmas had always been a shank of golf balls and crazy highway for me, but this Christmas, I was willing to take it all back.

...all I had to do, was just to open my eyes and start.
Tricky, but factual.

I waited long enough for Steve to leave. He was two minutes away before I uncovered the sheets, ran to the door and placed my ears on it cold surface to be certain there were no more sounds of his pounding footsteps, harshly grating the poor tiles.
I heard nothing; I guess the other patients were enjoying the movie of the night, while I was tucked into bed with a warm lullaby and a cold kiss.
With no sounds from the other end, I immediately scurried to the bed, knelt, and had my eyes under it, but all I saw was darkness, so I stuffed my hands deep and deeper, feeling and searching, until I found it, grabbed it, and pulled it out.

Stage Two of my plan had worked out splendidly, and the Lorazepam injection bottle I had in my hands, was evident to my claim.

Like I'd earlier said, Steve's overconfidence and lack of foresight, made him stupid, and an easy prey in my claw. Handling the lot was simple. First, I needed to break his guard, and what better way to do that than shaking the fabrics of his walls: his emotions.

Humans become fools when it comes to our emotions, and I had exploited Steve's to serve my course.

My constant tripping, mistakes, the heavy blows and kicks, and my overwhelming clumsiness, was a huge sludge on his ego, and it was just enough to break his guard.

Anger was my aim.

I had earlier stated that humans are ruled by their emotions, slaves to their anger, regret, shame, guilt, and what ever emotional drama they can cook up.
It is simple, control a man's emotions, and you could control their very souls.
So all I had to do was make Steve angry enough to be careless.

When I had successfully done that, I was able to switch the injection vails.

He was too enraged to have seen me do the swap. It was pretty sweet, twas like carrying out a drug deal with the bottles, in a dark alley in Gotham city, or maybe one of those GTA cities. Which ever it is, the most important thing was that the Veteran attendant, wasn't keen enough to had noticed me kick the actual sedative under the bed, while presenting the distilled water with the label safely hidden to him.

That was just a highlight of my plan. My main intention was to get him to use the actual contents in the bottle I had given him, and not the one he had intended to. And thus, the need to get him enraged.

At that moment, the only thing I wanted to go through his mind, was that of him hastening to complete his task, and leaving before I break any more of his bone.

What if it didn't go as I had planned? Well, Einstein didn't give up. If it would've taken me nine hundred and ninety nine thousand times to get it right, I was willing to take that chance.

Luckily it was successful. It was as I wanted. Young Mr Steve had sent through my veins every single liquid of the distilled water, and with the little convincing act I had put up, his spirit was already smiling in victory.

"One... Two.... Three.... Four"
I marked the seconds as I privly counted my fingers, while laying on the bed with the sheets proudly swallowing me to the neck.

Everything I did was timed: check the door two minutes after he leaves, safely navigate the first half of the building; go through the administrative level, escape, and look good while doing it.
The clock was ticking to the occasion, solemnly cursing my every effort.

After I took hold of the sedative, and examined it, I gently placed it on the bed, making it as obvious as possible. That was my way of mocking who so ever comes looking for me.

Time was of the essence, and I was certain that it would not take long before Steve notices his mistake, but before he could rectify it, I'd be long gone.

Fifteen minutes was all I had, before Steve comes running back with two other security guards, with an actual sedative in their tranquilizer guns, cocked and ready to shoot at any part of me.

Funny fact, my escape was dependent on their return too, and the longer it will take them to be back, the more time I expend.

Fifteen minutes, and the clock was never gracious enough to spare a second, and to open the door of my cell, I need the cover of the ballpoint pen I had swapped off doctor Raleigh.

Don't get too curious, but how was I gonna use a rubber or plastic, to hack through a mechanized door which can only be opened through sensors and electricity? How? Well, I did it manually.

Crazy! I know!

Have you ever been in elevator? Yes? Yes! The principals for this door was the same. How many times have you ran in haste to catch the door of a closing elevator? Few... Maybe non. If you have, you'll know that sticking your hands through before it closes, forces the doors to open back again. And yes, that's what I did.

If your hands forces the door open, does it mean that something smaller will have the same effect, but in a different way? Yes, it will. Something as small as a pin, won't force the door open, but it will prevent it from completely closing, and that's what I did.

My second tripping was to ensure this. After I fell, I immediately placed the stretched paper clip on the door's frame, right at the edge where the door will stop, which created a barricade small enough to keep the door from closing completely.

Everything was set, and I was ready to depart.

Taking advantage of the door's sensitivity, I stuck the pointed end of the pen cap into the little gap made by the underlaying pin, forced it wide enough to the right, widening the space between the door and the frame, until it was enough for me to stick my fingers through, and push it wider apart to the opening end.

"Done. But it ain't time to get excited just yet."

I was right. This was a race against luck and time, and that victory dance must be reserved for later, because for starters, I was shaking as hell. I was scared. Negro you don't venture such risk without guts..... for pete's sake, you ain't no freakin' robot. You gotta be outta yur damn mind to even think up something as crazy as this. Honestly I was anxious to the bone, even the floor of ceramic white tile, bore witness to the untamed shaking of my entire body. What gave me the courage to carry on such a task, still remains a mystery to me, 'cause when I remember the warm blankets of fear, gently caressing my sticky salty skin, I marvel at my heroine act.

FYI, I wasn't high on any drugs, but maybe it was adrenaline... I don't know, that shit does a load of crazy stuff to the human body.

Stage three of my plan was a success; I had easily moved the door to its opening end, and my journey had officially begun.

Beforehand I had already memorised the layout of this building, but navigating it at this hour, wouldn't be a heavy task.... Its December twenty-fourth people, Christmas eve!

Most of the facility workers were off somewhere, doing what jolliness and the season required. The ones who were on duty, were middle aged men, lonely and divorced, with no one to share a lasagna and chilled cola with. Literally those at work, were men who's lives were the the saddest and dilapidated kind, from broke, to single, to divorced, to those with shitty family issues. Even the Jews took the night off.

I tiptoed at first, before plunging into a full fledged speed. I wasn't too fast, but I was fast enough. My heart raced as though I had ran one mile for the thousandth time. Every inch of me was on high alert, my ears twitched to the slightest sound, and my eyes wished it could see a few minutes into the future, or a mystical premonition would just drop in like some kinda vision. I stopped at every corner, crawled, hopped, skipped, and did everything possible to travel the same length as time.
I was also scared as hell, my plan wasn't foolproof, and I couldn't tell what could happen in a few seconds.

Twelve minutes had gone by, and it would take me another five to get to the main exit of my half of the building, and boy did it seem like a year to me, and a few months more to reach the light at the end of the tunnel... Literally!

I told you my plan wasn't a entirely coated in amour, the back of the knees and joints were of leather and clothe, and the unexpected caught up to me.

"Stop there Naomi,"
Every bit of me froze, even my heart skipped a beat.
Steve stood right behind me, as he quickly sprinted for my wrist, held it and pulled me back.

"How? How did he find me... How did he know?"

He was right at my front, brows furrowed, fist clenched, and all the questions attacking my mind, fell right to the floor.

"You think you could fool me?"
There he was, his golden-amber eyes were deeply engraved in mine, and I could see it's engulfing pool of flame, rampaging in rage.
"You're a very dangerous woman, and I was right to keep close watch at you."

"He caught me, I failed. But how?"
I was doomed, in a snare with no escape route.

At first, it might have seemed like I was winning my game play against Luck , but the psycho was smiling too much for me to know that he'd planned something more impactful for me, and when it came, it took me in a storm. Fate did. Or was it Karma? I just knew something huge hit me, and I must tackle it, but moving forward.

I hate Christmas so much, but that of two thousand and eighteen, was by by far my favorite. It was memorable enough to reignited a desire for another day in the snow, singing carols, and luckily hanging those twinkling colorful bulbs around a six foot tall tree, and drinking a hot coco with some cookies. Christmas that year brought to me a splendid miracle.