Having done this before, I convinced myself that nerves were unusual but not unexpected.

It was practically habit by now to count the heavy footfalls of the guards. One…two…three…

On seventy, there was a brief pause as the guard turned around at the end of the corridor and came my way again.

Thirty five footfalls. That was all I had to get out of sight.

I had done it in twelve before. This would be easy.

As the guard passed by my cell, I snaked my makeshift stick out of cloth and dried spit towards his keys. There was a slight jangle as I hooked them, but I made sure his next footfall covered the noise. He was none the wiser as I cradled that metal freedom in my hands. Perfectly executed, I congratulated myself.

When he was out of hearing shot, half the length to the end of the corridor, I burst into motion. I found the shiniest key and thrust it into my cell’s padlock. Click. I swallowed a shout of joy. The hardest part came next.

I would have to wait until the guard’s key pocket was aligned with my cell again. 105 footfalls for him to cross the entire corridor and then make it to my cell. The wait grated on my nerves. I prayed he wouldn’t look too closely at the slightly ajar cell or the small, dirty girl inside.

He passed once. 70 to go.

The slight pause of changing direction. 35.

As he passed again, I looped the keys back where I had taken them from. This time, I didn’t make a sound.

And then, when he was out of earshot again, I ran.