Dear Diary,
The moon hangs low—a silver coin in the ink-black sky. Tonight, we tread the edge of reckoning. The courtyard awaits—the brass key hidden in my pocket, its edges etched with secrets. Samuel stands beside me, his breath a visible cloud. We're bound by more than forged passes; we're bound by survival.
"Remember," Makori's voice echoes in my mind. "The warden's office. Beneath the paperwork. The drawer."
The prison corridors are silent, save for the distant hum of fluorescent lights. We move like shadows—our footsteps muffled by desperation. The warden's office lies at the heart of this labyrinth—a place of power, of whispered deals. The guards' boots echo from a distant corridor, their laughter a cruel reminder.
The door to the office is heavy—a sentinel guarding secrets. I insert the key, its teeth finding purchase. The lock yields—a sigh of surrender. The room smells of aged wood and ink. Shelves sag under files—the lives of inmates reduced to paper. I search—the drawer, the stack of paperwork. And there it is—the small brass key, glinting in the dim light.
Samuel watches—the weight of our choices etched into his eyes. "What does it unlock?" he whispers.
"Not just a drawer," I reply. "A chance—a choice. The infirmary."
The window offers a glimpse of the yard—the moonflowers, the chessboard, Musa's laughter. Beyond that—freedom. But the infirmary is more than medicine; it's a sanctuary for the wounded soul. Samuel nods—a silent pact. We're not thieves; we're seekers of solace.
I pocket the key, its cold metal against my skin. We slip out—the door closing behind us, sealing our secret. The guards pass—their boots inches from our hiding place. We're invisible—two inmates among many, our breaths held like prayers.
The yard awaits—the moon our accomplice. Makori and Kamau stand by the acacia tree—their eyes like lanterns. They know—the infirmary is more than a room. It's a choice—a gamble. And sometimes, even in prison, we find redemption.
"Ready?" Makori asks, his voice a thread of hope.
I nod, my heartbeat echoing in the silence. Samuel touches my shoulder—a silent farewell. We step into the night—the key hidden, the moon our witness. The iron gates loom, but beyond them lies possibility. Tonight, we'll unlock more than a drawer—we'll unlock survival.