Merry Christmas everyone!

I'm so happy I could upload this new chapter on December 24. Call it an early Christmas gift.

To answer a question left by a Guest, yes I do plan to write more scenes from the point of view of Kevin's family, but I wanted to focus all my energy on Kevin for a while.

I want to thank everybody for their kind review. This story is dear to my heart and I am happy so many people are enjoying it.

Chapter 30

Deciding to run away had been an important first step. I, however, had underestimated how much work and planning this might involve. After all, I couldn't just run out the front door. I had to come up with a plan. It wasn't easy, but I was determined. One or two weeks passed before I could make my move, but the day finally came when I was ready. There was no going back. I would escape.

Unable to sleep, I had woken earlier than usual. While I waited for Harry and Marvin to get up, I had gone over the few belongings I would take with me. There weren't many; cookies I had saved for this day, and the Talkboy with my parent's recording. I would also leave with my skateboard, for speed, and my slingshot, my only weapon, just in case. That was it. I didn't take any of the toys Marvin had given me. I didn't need them. I had then lain back in bed, waiting.

When Harry came to wake me up, I didn't bounce off my bed, as I wanted to. Instead, I pretended to drag myself to the shower, as I did every morning. Today, more than any other day, I had to act natural. I couldn't let my nervousness show, especially in front of Harry.

Although I had done my best to offer my most sincere-sounding apology after that scene in the kitchen, Harry had not been convinced by my performance. Maybe he knew me too well to fall for it. After months of relative and hard-earned trust, Harry now always found a reason not to let me out of his sight. If I were doing laundry, he would hang around and make me practise Italian. When I had to take the garbage out, he would come along under the pretence of pulling weeds from the garden. Harry didn't accuse me of anything, and I didn't complain about his behaviour, but we were watching one another. Harry's renewed vigilance was the reason I had decided to wait until Marvin and him were off to work before acting. It complicated my escape plan, but any other attempt would've been disastrous.

I got dressed and grabbed the piece of eraser I kept in my pencil case. It had once been a full eraser, but I had broken it and reshaped it until the eraser was the desired size. I just hoped it would work, that it wouldn't be too big or too small. There was only one way to find out.

Let the first stage of my plan begin!

I walked to the basement door and pushed the eraser in the doorframe's strike box. So far so good, it had not been too big. I only hoped it wouldn't be too thin. I didn't have time to make sure it would sit in place as Harry appeared at the top of the stairs to greet me, yet another example of how he wouldn't leave me alone. I climbed the stairs, while my heart was beating madly in my chest.

"Hey, Harry. Is Marv up yet?"

I didn't expect him to be. He never was. For once, just this once, I wished Marvin would hurry up. I couldn't wait for them to leave.

"You know Marv always takes his sweet time." Harry confirmed. Raising his voice so it would carry upstairs, he then suggested with a smirk: "Why don't you go kick him out of bed for me?"

I would've gladly taken Harry at his word had Marvin not groaned back:

"I'm up, already!"

It would, however, be another half hour until he joined us. By then, I had finished breakfast and pretended to watch cartoons until Harry and Marvin sent me back to the basement for the day. Our daily routine.

I couldn't help following Marvin with my eyes as he poured himself a cup of coffee and made toast. He moved so slowly! Even after a shower, Marvin still looked half asleep. Were it not for Harry, morning would've been an ideal time to give Marvin the slip. He was mostly useless before his coffee.

"Marv; don't forget your stash of watches. I told Chuck we'd meet him after work.

– Today?" yawned Marvin.

"Chuck won't be in town for long. He always gave us good prices, better than what we can get around here.

– I miss Chicago. We didn't have to work half as hard to get decent prices.

– You said the same thing when we left New York. Smaller market means smaller profit."

Harry caught me listening to their conversation.

"You heard that kid; we've got business, so we might be a little late tonight."

That was new. For some reason, after that scene in the kitchen, Harry started discussing their burglary, loot and profit more openly in my presence. I wasn't sure how to react to this new frankness. I supposed it was better than lies, or was it?

"We'll bring back dinner." Marvin promised. "How about some fried chicken?"

If everything went according to plan, I would be far away by the time Harry and Marvin returned, I reflected while playing along.

"With fries?

– You'll get fries if you finish all those equations I prepared for you." Harry said, handing me a couple of pages blackened with his handwriting.

I accepted the homework without looking at it. This was also new. Surprisingly, this change had been brought by none other than Harry and Marvin's criminal activities, one of the few good things to come out of it.

It all started shortly after the black eye incident. Harry had returned from one of his "business meetings" and had handed Marvin his share. It had been a thick pile of money, the kind I had only seen in movies.

"And this goes right in the retirement fund!" Marvin had said with satisfaction.

"You mean the hollowed end of that flashlight you keep in your dresser? You should find a better place to hide your cash.

– Hey, it works for me.

– Marv, why don't you put your money in the bank?" I had asked him, intrigued.

"Cause Uncle Sam is nosy. He likes to know where money comes from and, most important of all, he wants his cut."

Noticing how I was staring at his money, Marvin had playfully asked:

"Guess how much that is!

– A million dollars?

– If only, kid. If only." he had laughed.

Harry, however, had not laughed. He had looked at me with that thoughtful expression he sometimes had.

"Hey, Marv; give me your money."

Harry had then handed me both piles.

"For me?

– Keep dreaming kid; tell me how much money that is."

I had never handled that much money in my life. Buzz's life savings or my allowance were nothing next to this. But I was also curious to see how much money Harry and Marvin had brought and I had started counting under their watch.

It didn't take long for that exercise to go far beyond my second grade level. I had no trouble with adding numbers, but not anything over a hundred. I made little piles for each denomination, most of which were twenties with the familiar tens or fives thrown in there, but there were a couple of fifties and hundreds as well. I couldn't keep count in my mind and had to use a sheet of paper.

It was also taking forever! At some point, I had looked up at Harry and Marvin. I couldn't read Harry's expression, but Marvin had seemed disturbed.

"Kid, you've got six five bucks. How much is that?"

From his tone, I could tell Marvin knew the answer to his question. I had stared at him blankly before scribbling down numbers.

"You don't need a sheet of paper for that! Six times five, come on; that's easy!"

Again, I stared at Marvin without replying, a deep feeling of shame and frustration building inside me. If Marvin said it was easy, then the answer should be obvious, shouldn't it? I knew I had fallen behind in my education, but this was the first time Harry and Marvin made me feel the inadequacy of my ignorance.

When I had not answered, Harry had not mocked or taken the money back. He had sat down at the table and introduced me to the multiplication table. It was my first math lessons since my kidnapping. Harry didn't seem to mind. He had probably expected it. Mathematics was important to Harry. He said it was an important life skill. Some people learn to multiply and divide with apple and oranges. I learned with cash. It was one of the first lessons inspired by their burglary, but it wouldn't be the last.

Since that day, Harry had taken to leaving me equations and math problems for me to solve while he was away. A year earlier, I might've appreciated his efforts, but the only thing on my mind that morning was running away. I had no intention of working on those equations.

"Three pages?" I whined. "That's a lot, Harry.

– You've got all day, don't you? And apply yourself. No fries if you get too many wrong."

There would be no fries for me that evening. Or fried chicken, for that matter, though none of us knew it.

When Harry and Marvin finally left, I didn't run to the basement door. I turned off the television to listen to the van driving away. As I was about to set my escape plan in motion, my paranoia kicked in. I imagined Harry and Marvin watching the house, ready to catch me. It was ridiculous; Harry and Marvin had better things to do than spend their days watching the house, but I couldn't help it. I waited a minute or two, just to be sure. The house was silent. Harry and Marvin were gone, really gone. It was time to move.

I ran to the closet and grabbed an old backpack. I hadn't packed beforehand in case Harry or Marvin found my bag. That would've required a lot of explaining and might've ruined everything. As I packed, my eyes then fell on my stuffed elephant, which lay abandoned on my bed. I hadn't planned to take it with me, but my eyes were drawn to it. I considered the matter much longer than I should've before shoving the elephant in the backpack. I didn't want to question why I had taken it, there was no time, I would think about that later.

My bag ready, I walked to the bookcase on the wall and found White Fang. I turned the book upside down and could not help but grin when the blade I had hiding in its pages fell in the palm of my hand.

I had Marvin, who else, to thank for getting my hand on a blade. Harry never would've let me handle one of their utility knife unsupervised. Marvin wasn't as careful, or maybe he thought he had me tame. Either way, I knew I could take advantage of his trust. I had been looking for days for a blade, any blade. A butter or steak knife might've done the trick, but Harry counted them, so I had eliminated that option.

The opportunity to get a decent blade had come up the previous evening when Marvin had taken out his toolbox. Our toaster had been giving us trouble and Marvin had decided to look it over. It was an old model, but Marvin refused to let it die and replace it, claiming it was the best toaster there was, so he would check its wires, replace parts, and stuff. I had offered to help, which meant Marvin would give me some other appliance to take apart while he worked on the toaster.

With Marvin's attention on the toaster, I had been free to handle whatever tool I wanted. Marvin never minded. I suppose he hadn't seen the harm, as he always made sure his tools were accounted for before putting his toolbox away. I had counted on that.

While Marvin was busy replacing the electrical cord of the toaster, I had spotted his utility knife. It had a thin, but razor-sharp blade; it was perfect, much better than a kitchen knife! I knew I had to find to a way to take this blade. I couldn't spirit the knife away; Marvin would've noticed, but all I needed was a blade. I couldn't risk Marvin noticing the disappearance of the blade either, but I knew he wouldn't think to check the spare ones stored inside the knife. Why would he?

Making sure my hands were hidden from Marvin's view by his toolbox, I had unscrewed and pulled the two halves of the knife's body apart. It had then been a simple matter of taking one of the blades and putting the knife back together. With the blade safely tucked in one of my socks, I had everything I needed to make my escape, and Marvin had been none the wiser.

Blade in one hand, backpack in another, I stood in front of the basement door. This was it, the moment of truth. Would I escape, or would all my efforts be frustrated by my main obstacle, that locked door.

Long before I had decided to run away, I had spent hours inspecting that door for any weakness. I had jingled the doorknob, pushed, pulled and even kicked at it in frustration, without the door giving an inch. It was a good door. Too good. Harry and Marvin had kept the original basement door on which they had installed a lock. They had not chosen a privacy lock that could easily be picked using anything from credit cards to nails, but a double deadlock bolt. I had no idea how to get past that lock.

And the worst thing was the key hung on the wall right next to the door all day long. Harry and Marvin never bothered taking it with them to work. It hung there, inches out of my reach. Talk about a tease! Stealing it would've too dangerous; Harry and Marvin would've noticed its disappearance the moment they tried to lock me in. And I knew on whom their suspicions would fall, should that ever happen. I couldn't substitute it for another key for the same reason. If I wanted to get past the lock, I would have to pick it, though I wasn't sure how.

The first tool that had sprung to mind had been hairpins. In movies, spies could pick any lock using nothing more than hairpins. I recalled how, back home, Megan always had two dozen loose hairpins in our bathroom cabinet. Harry and Marvin, however, had no use for hairpins, and I couldn't ask them for some. Though they wouldn't have mentioned it so early in our relationship, Harry and Marvin had a picking lock toolkit, which did not include hairpins. In the absence of hairpins, I had to come up with an alternative.

As usual, the answer presented itself when I least expected it, namely on the reruns of a home improvement show. I left the television on most of the time without paying it much attention. I had no interest in home renovation until the host said:

"You want to make sure the strike box on your doorframe is deep enough to allow the deadbolt to fully extend and lock itself out. We don't want any pranksters to walk it back with a pocketknife." he had chuckled.

Walk a deadbolt back? Was that even possible? I had perked up on the sofa, suddenly alert to every word the man said. The curiosity of the man's assistant had also been sparked.

"You mean anyone can open a deadbolt lock without a key?

– Not really. Not if you install your deadbolt properly, which is what we'll be doing today."

As he spoke, the man showed a makeshift deadbolt in a wooden frame.

"Usually, the doorframe and the door create a pressure on the deadbolt, keeping it in place." The bearded man explained. "But if the deadbolt is not fully extended, or if something is keeping it from extending all the way, it's not locked out and it can be walked back using a blade."

To illustrate his point, the man had turned the deadbolt about halfway through. Taking out a pocketknife, he had inserted its blade between the door and its frame. There wasn't much space, but biting down on the deadbolt with the blade, the man pushed it all the way back. In about a minute, his makeshift door stood open.

"Of course, to do that, you have to be standing on the pulling side of the door, otherwise the doorframe would be in the way of the blade." the man specified. "So don't worry about burglars using this trick to enter your house."

Well, I wanted to get out of the house, not in, so that wasn't a problem. And since I was standing on the opening side of the basement door, this could work! The man had made it look so easy.

And so here I was, blade in hand, ready to put this theory to the test. It was also time to see whether the eraser had been big enough to cushion the deadbolt and keep it from extending all the way. Marvin hadn't seemed to notice anything wrong when he had locked me in, but I hoped that was just another proof of how half asleep he had been.

Kneeling, I stuck the blade between the door and its frame and began working. The blade was thin enough to fit, which was good, but it wasn't very long, making it difficult to handle. I felt the blade slip a few times across the deadbolt instead of biting into it, but I kept trying. This was my only plan; it had to work!

My nervousness made me clumsy; my hands were shaking. I dropped the blade a few times and nicked my fingers, but I did not give up. I kept moving the blade around until finally, I felt the deadbolt move. It had only moved a fraction of an inch, but I let out a cry of triumph and redoubled my efforts. It was not as easy as the man had made it look, but it worked. After what seemed liked forever, the deadbolt gave in and retracted all the way. I gasped. I had done it!

Who says you can't learn anything from television!

I'm not sure I had expected my plan to work. Now that it had, I almost felt lightheaded. I made my way upstairs with cautions, afraid Harry and Marvin were hidden somewhere. I then tiptoed to the front door and unlocked it. Peering outside, I looked up the road to make sure there was no sign of the van. The road was clear. Why would Harry and Marvin return anyway? They had even told me how late they would be tonight.

My victory started to sink in and triumph made me bolder. Those two good-for-nothing burglars had not had the best of me. I was still cleverer than both of them put together! I wish I could see the look on their face once they realized I had escaped!

I put on my shoes and grabbed a vest from the hallway closet, going through the next phase of my plan in my mind. I would ride my skateboard to a gas station and diner I had seen on my rides with Marvin. I had decided not to waste my time knocking on neighbours' doors. Most of them were workers like Harry and Marvin who left early in the morning and did not return until nightfall. The gas station would be safer. There would be staff and customers. I was ready to leave, but something held me back.

It wasn't fear.

It was anger.

The anger I had been denying for weeks resurfaced. I would run away. I would call the police and Harry and Marvin would rot in jail, but that wasn't enough. They had to pay! For everything they had put me through over the past two years. Jail wasn't enough. I wanted to strike back. I wanted to hit them and hit them hard. But not with traps. This wasn't about protecting myself; this was payback! Besides, Harry and Marvin had proven they could take the pain. If I wanted to hit them where it hurt, the ultimate betrayal, I knew where I had to strike.

Their wallet.

I didn't mean their bank account, but the money from their burglaries. My anger led upstairs to Marvin's bedroom. I had no idea where Harry kept his money, and didn't have time to turn his bedroom upside down looking for it, but I knew where Marvin kept his. The hollowed bottom of a flashlight? Should be easy to find!

Although I had never been in Marvin's bedroom, it was easy to spot. Unlike Harry, he never made his bed. Marvin's room wasn't dirty, but it was messy; there were abandoned clothes on a chair and pulled-out drawers. His dresser was on the other side of the room and was covered with loose change, old receipts, and magazines. On the floor, right in front of it was a padded case. Out of curiosity, I opened it and discovered luxury watches neatly displayed in rows. There must've been over two dozen watches. I rolled my eyes and pushed the case out of the way. Typical Marvin; he had forgotten the watches even after Harry had reminded him they were meeting some guy to fence them. Harry and Marvin were off to a very, very bad day!

I pulled out the bottom drawer of his dresser. It was packed with bulky sweatshirts, winter socks and pants. I rummaged through the clothes when my finger closed around something cold and heavy. I pulled the item out, expecting a flashlight. Boy, was I in for a surprise.

It wasn't a flashlight.

It was a handgun.

AN:

Well, that's it for now! Aren't I evil to leave you on such a cliff-hanger!

I had to do a lot of research to find a feasible way for Kevin to escape the basement. The trick outlined in this story does work, in case anyone would like to give it a try. Just be careful as you might damage the doorframe with your blade, and, if you have parents or landlord, they might not appreciate.