She'd have preferred the electric chair. She'd have preferred anything really, hanging, lethal injection, even one of those weird medieval punishments like hang, draw and quartering. Anything to get her out of this tedium.

The irony was that she'd chosen this. Chosen to run, the alternative being prison or worse. But wasn't she already in prison? Stuck in this dark, damp room, determined to live out the rest of her days without ever seeing the sun. Actually, it was probably worse than prison. At least in prison there were other prisoners to talk to. Here the only human contact she got was the man who dropped off her 'essential supplies' every two days. Essential supplies! That was a joke. When you were stuck staring at the same four walls twenty-four hours a day, surely a book could be considered an essential supply? A magazine even? A newspaper? Just something to keep her entertained through the long, cold, lonely days.

Able to stand it no longer, she leapt up, put her hand on the doorknob, and turned. Screw the consequences. If going outside meant death, at least she'd have spent the last moments of her life living.