Steel toed boots, a splintered trucheon, a rusty assault rifle, heavy fists, and sharp, cold eyes that showed no mercy. These were my enemies now. I took stock of each one, each element, and pictured them in my mind; focused on them with every fiber of my being. Those enemies, those obstacles, were absolutely the only things that had any meaning in my life at that moment.

I had observed the ritual countless times- the door would creak open, a bowl of "food" more resembling pig slop would be shoved in, scraping across the floor. No silverware, no tray, no talking. It ususally took 3 or 4 seconds, 6 at most. I always sat at the opposite end of the cell, as far away from the door as I could get, lest the guard be in a bad mood and choose to take it out on me. But this time I crouched as close to the door as I could.

The creak of the door was deafening- cutting through the stagnant silence like a knife. If everything didn't go exactly as planned, it would be nearly the last thing I would ever hear.

It all happened in an instant- as soon as i heard the scrape of the bowl as he shoved it into the cell with his boot, I sprung up and shot my hand my hand into the crack of the door. the guard looked up in shock, and his widened eyes met mine for a moment frozen in time for us both. As soon as he registered what was happening, he reflexively pulled on the metal loop of the door handle that was still in his grip. The heavy iron door, only open a few inches by then, came down surprisingly hard onto my fingers. A sickening crunch of breaking bones, a cry that it took me a moment to realize came from my own lips. It didn't matter. Only the boots, the rifle, the eyes- Those were the only things that existed. The door bounced just enough off of my now-mangled fingers for me to slide my palm onto the outside of the door. Stiffening my arm and flinging my body weight toward the inside of the cell, the door opened enough for me to fit. The guard gripped his rifle but it was too late. A swift elbow to the head, followed by a kick to the side of the knee lowered him half way to the ground. A knee to the face brought the second sickening crunch as blood poured out of his nose. He was floored.

With the threat of the guard temporarily gone, I registered my surroundings for the first time.