Part Two

A new prisoner was announced and my eyes jumped out of their frozen state. It had been a while since I heard a human voice outside of my head. I heard it again and my heart began to beat fiercely.

I was to have a cellmate. The fresh prisoner had nowhere else to go. I wondered if it would be wise to make friends with him, to even talk to him. I was going to die in a matter of hours.

As he first entered, it seemed that nothing was special about him. I looked at him up and down while he made his way to the opposite side of the confined chamber. He wasn’t too far from me. My eyes were still coursing on his features when he sat on the large bale of hay against the wall. It probably appeared to him like I was sizing him up, weighing him in.

The early judgments I made were incredibly wrong. His face would have had anyone at his mercy. The eyes were a smooth almond shape, of bluish-grey tincture, like deep pools of murky water. His lips, though weather-torn, were full and supple. They were as red as the blood that had stained my own. The soft tresses on his head were brown, so rich that they almost gave off a gentle glow.

He must have seen me watching him intently because he looked away. Instantaneously, I darted my eyes downward. For one reason or another, we both laughed and looked up again. I saw him making his way to my side so I shifted on the brittle bench I was sitting on. I was a little worried that it would collapse if he sat.

“So, what did they lock you up for?” he asked comfortably.

“Adultery. Attempted murder.” I answered succinctly, not wanting to add anything else.

“I’m in for murder.” he said languidly, realizing that I wasn’t going to return the question.

I noticed that he was staring at my broken lip. I looked down and saw that there was still blood glazing the cut.

“What happened to your lip?” he asked, his mouth slightly hanging for a response.

“I bit down hard on it. Thought they’d let me out for a bit to fix me and I’d be able to make my break.” I said flatly.

I thought he was going to laugh, but I didn’t even see a mocking smile. His hand motioned to my face. I made no attempt to back away. His thumb smoothed the remaining blood off my lower lip. It was cool, releasing the heat of my burning wound.

We looked at each other intensely.

In the next moment our lips met, entwining in heat. I could feel mine starting to bleed again. When we pulled apart, his mouth was redder than ever, bloodied by me. I expected to see him wiping it away hurriedly in disgust, but he didn’t. Instead, he took his hand, and with each of his fingertips, dipped down on the shiny crimson fluid. One, two, three, four, five. He suspended his hand before his face, which bore a look of child-like fascination.

I opened my mouth to say something but found myself pursing it closed in pain.

“No.” he said, seeing my effort to speak. “It’s no fault. I did this, and I’m not sorry. Are you?”

A smile crept up on my cheeks as I shook my head.

(---------------)

Conversation echoed in our cell in the following hours. Each word spoken was another step nearer to the gallows. I failed to keep count.

We talked about random things, each of us posing irrelevant questions. You never would have guessed how arbitrary our chat was by how vibrantly it rose, quieted, and rose again.

I nearly started to hate myself for liking this…stranger when I should still be mourning. I felt so selfish. I felt like I was easily bought, and he paid me with his kiss. But that was all erased every time I saw his face.

I was drawn to the same setting. I became fixed on his lips. When we kissed, it was as if we were weaving an invisible rope from the present to eternity. Neither of us wanted to let go. We wanted to find out more about each other. We wanted to remain connected even after death. But though our meeting had been so sudden, it already felt so fulfilled. So as the footsteps of the hangman grew louder, I had less and less regret left behind.

I kissed him for the last time.

“I’ll see you.” he tried to smile. And then as the man was undoing the lock, he added “I love you.”

I caught a glimpse of his tear.

My heart felt like it had been wringed. I thought of my father and how he would have wanted me to live, die. Before my thoughts finished running their course, the hangman had let himself in and was binding my hands. I turned around quickly and finally said “I love you.” I didn’t want to lose another chance.

After the executioner had led me out and well away from the cell, I whispered “I forgive you too.”

FIN

Note: At the end, the main character (who is a girl) is speaking in connection to the young man in the cell, not to the executioner. And for anyone who missed it, the young man who was left in the cell was indeed Philip.