I had now ground down the straight edge of the speculum to a very sharp point. Not razor sharp, but thanks to the roughness of the inside metal bed frame, my escape tool could now definitely cut skin. The rest of the instrument could be used like a gun pressed into someone’s back, forcing them to open a door or better, using them to open the main doors of the facility to the freedom I knew I could attain.

The large tree on the outside grounds represented the expansive earth around the globe that would be MINE. Where I would go, whom I would meet, how I would disappear--- I wasn’t sure, but all I could think about was running away from this place and on my way out, touching that massive tree trunk and blessing it in thanks. It had motivated me, pushed me, and taught me the difference between dreams and reality.

I knew there was a lot of money in the bank waiting for me, but what stood between me and my infinite wealth was the executor of Hillary’s Will and Estate. In other words, Mike was in complete control of me on several levels and I had to slyly make him notice the opportunity that was before him. Bottom line: I could make him very rich.

Footsteps approached from the corridor and I quickly put the speculum back into the mattress, hearing keys in my lock. I sat on the bed, greeting Mike and an indifferent nod hello.

“I was told you wanted to see me,” he calmly stated, the guard locking the door behind him and waiting outside. I rose and calmly motioned Mike over to the window on the other side of the room.

“See that tree?” I said, “That is what I live for. That is what I hope to one day be able to touch on my way out of here. I know that won’t happen for another 30 years, but it’s my dream. Do you have dreams?”

I could tell he was very nervous and clearly attracted to me on some bizarre level. To what, I wasn’t sure, but I knew his weakness was my wild card I had to play delicately.

“Of course I have dreams.”

“Of me?” I couldn’t help myself; it just came out. Mike was silent, pondering my question with embarrassment. Each second that he took to respond only confirmed what I already knew to be true: I turned him on.

“I suppose,” Mike capitulated. “Of helping you in some way. What’s happened has been so tragic, but I hope that you, and all of us, can now begin the healing process.”

“How many millions will I have when I finally get out of here?”

“A lot.”

“I’ll almost be 70 years old by the time I can use it. Hillary’s money won’t do me much good but perhaps it could help someone else right now. Like yourself.” He froze, looking at me, so I continued. “What do you need for me to sign the money over to you?”

“Why would you do that?”

“Not all of it. But it’s something that I can do perhaps that will honor Hillary. Use it for Mocha Daze, give it to charity, use it for yourself to go back to school, or buy a new car. I don’t care, but it’s doing no one any good sitting in the bank except earning interest. Spending a little wouldn’t hurt.”

He looked at me, obviously checking both my sincerity and my sanity. “What would you want in return?”

“Be my friend.”

“I am your friend.”

“Then, perhaps, I mean…let me prove to you I am your friend.”

He was becoming more and more nervous, clearly surprised by my request yet captivated.

“Let me think about it. Is that it?” He asked.

I nodded and he excused himself. I could only imagine what he was thinking, of how I COULD change his life with one simple act of generosity. I was sure he would confer with his lawyers and because he wasn’t an idiot, would return with the proper documentation needed to make this happen.

What he didn’t know was that I was setting him up, using him like a fisherman uses a worm for bait.