“So, who’s going to die today?” the gaunt, coarse man asked with a grin. “Don’t everybody jump up at once!” he shouts as he slams his hammer into the iron bars. We all jump at the sound and some whimper in fear. This man glares at all of us, and his eyes meet mine. The grin spreads further, “Youuu” he says slowly, pointing his long, crooked finger in my direction as he unlocks the cell. He steps toward me with determination and reaches a hand to grab my shirt. Suddenly, something blocks my sight of him. The back of a dark blue shirt sits inches from my face. “Please,” a reedy voice asks plaintively, “pick me.” I blink in disbelief. “Sir, you don’t have to do this!” I say. The older gentleman turns back to face me and smiles softly, “You’re young, and you’re smart. You can get out of here. You can repay me by doing so.” At that, the wicked jailer pulled the kindly man out of the cell. That was the last time we saw him. It was the first time I started planning.