|To Smile and Die
Author: Criminal-type PM
She hadn't meant it to happen. She hadn't meant for any of it to happen. But it did anyway. And now she was paying the price.Rated: Fiction T - English - Crime/Angst - Words: 746 - Published: 04-05-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3010905
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
To Smile and Die
It's hard to believe that this was actually happening. I mean, you always hear about things like this happening to other people, but you never expect it to happen to yourself.
No. This wasn't happening. This shouldn't be happening.
Footsteps marched down the echoing halls, and I dropped my head into my hands in regret. Why hadn't I heard the footfalls before? If I had heard them, I wouldn't have been surprised. If I hadn't been surprised, I wouldn't have turned towards the door in shock. Fear wouldn't have been coursing through my veins, making my fingers clench. If I had heard the footfalls before, the gun wouldn't have gone off. The gun… I don't even know why I had it anymore. All I knew for certain was that a man was dead because of me.
But not just any man. Not the man that the gun was intended for and not a man that could have been accused of a crime. Any crime.
It was my father. I shot my own father.
My lawyer had tried to plead insanity, and I had actually agreed with him, but the court wouldn't hear it. I had shot down a well-respected police Chief, and they were going to make sure I paid for it.
I had been in prison for five years already. At least, I think it was five, I couldn't tell anymore. My brain just didn't work as quickly as it used to, not that I cared much.
I remembered though. There had been a time, a split second, where I had honestly believed that everything could be okay. That I could escape the metal bars of my cage, and I could somehow climb over the security fence and be on my merry way to freedom. But I never would have been able to get far enough away from the memory of the manacles at my wrists and ankles. I couldn't have possibly run fast enough to get away from the accusing glares.
The feet finally made it to my lonely cell, halting their march just on the other side. I remembered when I had been the one on the outside, throwing all of my anger at the one on the inside.
How I loathed being to the one on the inside.
The guard unlocked the door and hauled me to my feet. I was led down an impossibly white hallway, and was silently relieved that I had refused the last meal. It wouldn't have stayed down for very long.
Finally the walk, my final walk, ended. I was led into a room that I had seen so many times before in movies. One thing was different, though. It was much more intimidating in person. Silently I cursed myself as I was led to the table, my deathbed. My arms and legs were then freed from the metal chains, and I allowed myself a moment of bliss before they were soon replaced with smooth leather straps.
I had made a stupid, reckless decision in my past, and now I was paying the price for it. A life for a life, if you will.
I barley flinched as the needle slid into my skin. Soon it would all be over. It would finally be over. I would be freed from the guilt that had plagued me all those years, that scraped at my heart even now.
I vaguely heard one of the guards ask me if I had any last words, but there was only one sentence on the tip of my tongue that seemed appropriate.
"I'm just glad it's all finally over."
There was no response from the witnesses sitting in front of me on the other side of the glass, almost like they were watching a movie. All that was missing was the popcorn. The guards gave no notice that they had heard me either, and suddenly the table began to move until it was once again parallel with the floor.
My legs and arms suddenly felt very heavy, as if they had sunk through the gleaming metal beneath me. My chest began to feel tight and my vision began to darken around the edges. I knew this was it. I was dying, and there was no going back, but I couldn't find it in me to be sad.
Instead I smiled.