4 My End

I heard the shink of the cell by being unlocked behind me. I figured I might try meditating during my hour of privacy, in honor of Jack, who had suggested I try it some time before my end. I do not really think I had gotten the hang of it, but it definitely felt nice.

The entire prison's schedule was broken for the next hour and a half. All inmates of all wings were locked up in their cells or dormitories, and all personnel were either to wait in the personnel room, or stay on their posts. This was all a way to pay respect to the incoming fate of a death row. The reason the entire prison was affected was for the inmate to feel important to some degree before their end. I did not care about it though.

After a short walk through the halls of the prison, we came up to a metal double-door with two correction officers flanking it. When we came close, they both opened the door, letting me, the warden, and four officers through.

I was greeted with a small crowd of people sitting on cheep, foldable chairs. I could only guess who any of them were - probably parents or relatives of the kids that died, two years ago.

On the opposite side of the witnesses, was a wall with a very large window, showing sanitized, white room, with nothing in it other than a chair, which looked like a modded version of a hospital bed. A man with a face mask and white hospital clothing stood behind the chair, hands behind his back. Next to the window was another door, which led inside to the chair. Me, the warden, and two of the four guards escorted me through the door.

Now, I had been relatively calm up until this point, but I would be lying if I said I was not sick to the stomache and filled with butterflies at the sight of that chair. My predicament seemed to be real for the very first time for me. I started shaking as the man in hospital gowns started strapping me down to the chair. Emotion seemed to have left the man's eyes - he had probably done this more times than he would have liked, and it did not seem like it had ever become easier for him.

I looked up, through the glass and at the witnesses of my death. There had to have been at least four dozen people, most with disgust or sadness in their eyes. I searched for my friend in the crowd. I found him in the front line. He had his hands between his knees, in handcuffs. He had clearly been crying - his eyes puffy and red. Jack was a very large guy, not as large as Tyson the guard, but he was rather buff. I remember constantly hearing him do workout routines in his cell through the shank hole between our wall, the sickly sweet smell of sweat leaking into my cell, until I finally took my shirt or sock off and stuffed the hole to allow me to breathe again. He was also pale, like me. Two years without sun was robably the cause, although I do not know about before he came to prison.

Mr. Cliton picked up a microphone for the crowd on the other side to hear, before starting the execution ritual.

"Nora Blood, 17, is now to be executed via injection on this day, the twenty-fifth of January-"

"Yeah, could we skip that?" I blurted out, to my own surprise. "Can we just stop dragging it on, already? I'm pretty sure there are laws for torture, you know." The crowd stared at each other, clearly not expecting my outburst - which they clearly overheard through Mr. Cliton's mic. Jack's eyes were on me without fail, he could probably see clearly through my poor attempt of keeping it together. I was crying, shaking and my voice was probably wavering a bit. He was crying as well. I was his only friend, and the only one who did not judge him for what he did. Too harshly.

Jack had told me his remaining family, his mother, had been brutally murdered one night, he was the only survivor, since he managed to escape from the house he lived in. The police found the murderer, playing with Jack's mom like a sick puppet show. Alas, they never did catch or identify the killer.

He told me he tried to cope with it with the money he got from Social Services. He tried yoga, but quickly lost interest and gave up. He tried boxing once, but he would always imagine his oponent as his mothers killer and just could not chill out whenever he sparred. Soon, he could not take anymore of the harsh comments he had gotten from his extended family or people from school, and snapped. He said the report wrote that he went around shooting people, but he adimantly says he never thouched a gun, nor did he ever remember killing anyone - although he did admit that it was possible he fell into a rage filled frenzy with the sword his mothers killer used - which none of the reports even mentioned. So, basically, Jack got caught and sentenced to death. No medical therapists or any kind of help. Just, 'straight to prison.'

Mr. Cliton cleared his throat, shifted in his wheelchair, before returning back to his speech, skipping the formalities.

"Do you have any last words, Nora?"

I did not have any 'famous last words' really. I just sat there, trying on a face I knew was not working: expressionless.

I could feel my tears pooling in my eyes before I blinked them into teardrops. Gracefully flowing down my cheeks and making small dark-orange dots on my jumpsuits legs. I could feel the hard stares on me soften a fraction, as my guilt became visible.

I dont even know why I was guilty, when I was told I had created a bloodbath massacre in school, it felt like I had been framed more then anything. But nonetheless, I cried. I cried more then I would like to admit. I thought of the other hundreds upon hundreds of people who are executed each year. Did they feel like this as well? Did they cry for the last time of their lives in this chair? Did they have a few seconds of existential crisis in their last moments?

Suddenly, I regretted my statement about there not being anything more calm than the acceptance of death. I thought back at how unfair my life was, how cruel everything and everyone was for no reason.

"This world deserves to burn." Before I realized it, the words slipped my mouth. I was glad that the witnesses were not able to hear me. Although, the two guards - one who I recognized now was Tyson, Mr. Cliton and the medic all looked at me with disdained surprise. I looked at the Warden, gesturing at his microphone and then at the window. He held the microphone to my lips.

"Thanks Jack, for being a friend." Were my last words before looking at the medic - syringe in hand - signaling i was ready.

As I felt the serum make its way up my arm and into my bloodstream, paralyzing my organs, making it impossible to breathe, I looked back to Jack. He was bawling his eyes out into his hands. The witnesses near him seemed very uncomfortable, leaning away from him. But before everything went dark, I could feel the same sensation from back at school, a sense of awakening. The serum in my veins felt like electricity, and before I knew it, my body temperature started rising in the blink of an eye, the last thing I heard was a loud, but muffled, boom. As a bright, red light blinded me before my eyesight went dark.