The Escapist Read Online Free

that’s pig swill Osc. Not even you could be that stupid” Piggy exclaimed a little too loudly and received a clip round the ear from the nearest matron.  He rubbed his ear distractedly before returning to the spilled food.
    “Yeah right Piggy.  Keep on and I’ll boot you just the same.  It’s none of your business anyway” Oscar hissed before turning back to his stew, ignoring the envious gaze radiating from across the table.  Taking no notice of Oscar's rebuttal, Piggy pestered on.
    “So you think you might try again?”
    “Maybe,” Oscar said, trying not to give away the extent to which this failed attempt had crushed his spirit.  “I don’t know yet.  I won't get the chance for a good few weeks, that’s for sure.  It seems like Clarke has lots of fun planned for me.”  Oscar stared darkly at his uneaten bread roll.  After a few moments he decided he’d had enough and stood up to leave.  With casual disregard he tossed the roll at Piggy, who seized upon it greedily.
    “Cheers Osc, sorry for calling you stupid an' all.  I don't envy what’s in store for you at the moment.” 
    Back in the corridor Oscar passed a host of children heading towards the workroom, all talking in hushed whispers.  Oscar however was heading to Matron Clarke's office.  He thought wistfully of the work he would be missing – it was never something he had enjoyed but in comparison to what the matron would undoubtedly have in store, he knew where his preference would lie.  Furthermore, if they were continuing on from the previous week then the work class would only consist of several hours spent repairing old army kit – not much fun, but it would at least have given him an opportunity to rest his unceasingly sore shoulder.
    Piggy caught up with him just before the lobby, where their paths would diverge “I expect Edmund will want to see you later, get you to fill him in on all the details.” Piggy remarked through a mouth full of bread.
    “He'll just want to know how I did it, and if he thinks I’m going to tell him he can think again.” Oscar replied with a slight grimace.
    “Don't go crossing Edmund.  He's as bad as the matrons when he wants to be.”
    “Thanks but I think I’ll be fine.  I've been dealing with Edmund a lot longer than you.”  With these parting words Oscar bounded up the stairs, not wanting to incur any unnecessary reprimand from Matron Clarke for being late.
    For the remainder of the afternoon, Oscar found his back became the least of his worries as he spent hours on hands and knees cleaning the various surfaces all over the institution.  His ceremonious arrival clearly had not gone unnoticed either, as he found most of the whippings he received for idleness focused on a gradually numbing shoulder – presumably the entire body of staff in the institution had been informed of his new injury.  After having spent the afternoon chiselling dried stew from the lunch hall tables, Oscar came to the realisation that the task was insurmountable in a single day.  Whilst daunting in the scope of the chore, this realisation also provided some measure of relief.  Even though the punishment would extend for possibly a couple of weeks, at least there were not going to be any nasty surprises.
    The day was coming to a close and Oscar looked around for some form of indication that he might finish.  His supervisor was a janitor named Simms.  A scrawny man, he had spent the afternoon reclining on a chair with his feet propped up on a spare metal bucket.  It seemed Oscar was lucky; whilst the man had clearly enjoyed his new sense of power and abundance of spare time, he was not spiteful and finally acknowledged the day’s hard work.  With a sudden nod and a toothy grin he gave Oscar the dismissal he was waiting for.
    Yet Oscar’s relief was short lived.  Unbeknownst to him, Matron Clarke stood waiting outside the entrance to the lunch hall with much in store for the rest of the evening.  Oscar