Everyday I hear screams coming from outside. Screams which bounce off of the walls of my cell, from through the barred windows. It scares me a little that the last things those people would of said, wasn't even logical, didn't even mean anything. Their last breath was wasted on a scream, which scares me, because I don't want it to happen to me.

Every day I get a five minute shower, completely freezing of course, used up during my ten minutes of fresh air. The first time I had that shower, it was the last, I was too humiliated in front of the other men and women too. You got absolutely no privacy.

In my room, I listen to these people die outside my room, I don't huddle in a corner in fear, I simply sit on the edge of my moth eaten mattress and stare blankly at the wall.

Like everyone here, I have been put in this cell to die.

Everyone who has been put in a cell here will die, eventually.

As for me, I will die in five days.

It's depressing that I can't do something more worthwhile here, other than laying in my room, my mind and body decaying bit by bit. In this small room, the walls were painted chrome; there was a toilet in a corner, and a bed nearby.

Every day at one o clock somebody comes in and gives me food from on a tray. Each day I eat the same things; warm grizzled meat, half frozen vegetables, some stale bread, and a bottle of water. We weren't allowed cutlery because they could be used for suicide attempts, we weren't even allowed plastic cutlery. I have yet to hear of someone who has committed suicide using plastic cutlery.

By we, I speak for all of the people here, all the criminals, I never speak to them though. Nobody ever speaks to anybody here, it's like a way of life. You can ask questions to the people who bring you food, but they never really give you kind answers. It's like they're being paid to be mean.

I am in this cell, now looking at the ceiling. The sun was going down outside, I had little light in here. There would be another killing in a couple of hours; it was the death penalty for those who had committed murder.

Everybody in here had committed murder. Even me. I killed my wife.

I absentmindedly bit my fingernails and they began to bleed and sting. I wiped the blood off on my dirty, torn clothing and sighed ran a hand through my short mousy hair.

I was only thirty years old, and I was going to die. I wanted to travel to Austria, or was it Australia? I wanted to travel to many countries and learn about them. I had already been to America and France, and England obviously, that's where I live, or rather, where I had lived. No point dreaming, it's not going to happen.

I had tried to escape once, by climbing up a pole near the wall and attempting to jump over the wall. As a result, I wasn't fed for a few days, and I had cuts across my stomach which had been treated with a liquid which smelt bitter, and stung. A lot.

There was a click at my door and I looked up. At first I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and if I was hallucinating, but I wasn't.

A beautiful black woman stood at the door, long dark hair tied in an elegant pony-tail, and she had chocolate brown eyes and a wonderful smile which filled me with energy none of this rotten food could give me.

She placed a tray in front of me on the floor; the usual grub.

'My name's Amelia.'

She had a distinct cockney accent. I pulled the bread apart and shoved it in my mouth.

She was a strange girl. She wore the murky green uniform which meant she was a cop, why would such a girl be stuck in here?

'Tell me about yourself.' The woman named Amelia said, leaning against the wall.

'Why do you care?' I grumbled, tearing at the bread with my teeth.

The woman shrugged. She seemed to be around my age, maybe even younger.

I stared blankly at her for a few seconds before answering.

'I killed my wife. There you go.' I said bluntly.

Amelia seemed unscathed.

'I already know that. You suggested divorce to your wife and she went berserk and pulled out a kitchen knife, as a defense, you accidentally-on-purpose killed her.' She said to my amazement. 'So- Tell me about yourself.'

My mouth was half open, and I reached for the water.

After finishing half of my drink I told her how I wanted to travel the world, and my thoughts about the prison. Then I asked her, to tell me about herself. She looked thoughtful and said.
'I wanted to be a cop, because, I want to stop crime. Stop the bad guys. Or women.' She added quickly, 'My parents and sisters wanted me to continue working at their bakery but I refused. I had other plans.'

I nodded and continued to eat as she continued telling me random things about herself, her friends, and some strange cases she had come across whilst working.

When I finished eating she took the tray and headed towards the door.

'Oh I forgot to ask for your name. What was it?' Amelia inquired.

'Well, my name was Edward, but now it's 'cold-blooded-murderer'." I joked, even though it wasn't very funny at all.

Amelia grinned.

'Well it's good to see you still have a sense of humour, albeit not a very good one.'

And she shut the door leaving me alone.

I wondered if I would see her again as I listened to her shoes tapping against the floor. I thought about my own life, my own friends, if they cared about me at all, about my parents, about my dying day, and about Amelia.

I slept most of the night and into the morning. Peaceful sleep for the first time in ages.

There was a knocking at my door and I looked up to see Amelia there. It was quite a surprise because I expected there to be somebody different, as there always had been.

She handed me my tray and I only then noticed how hungry I was. Although I didn't eat the meat this time, it wasn't very good.

'I don't understand-' I said between mouthfuls, 'Why do they make us spend out last days in this place? It's depressing.'

'I think they want you to be able to reflect back on your life, and appreciate what you've got.' Amelia said, 'That or they just want you to suffer for what you've done.'

I laughed, bread crumbs falling onto my lap.

Four days left, I could get used to this. Amelia was good company.

'Why did you want to split with your wife?' Amelia asked me. I looked thoughtful, but I really wasn't being thoughtful about it.

'It just wasn't working out. I felt she wasn't the one I was supposed to be with.'
It was you.

This thought flashed through my mind in an instant and I was slightly confused as to why it was there. When I finished eating, I gave my tray to Amelia and she left, it was then that I realized that I loved Amelia.

For the rest of the day, I ignored the yells and screams from those dying and thought about Amelia. Some would call me insane, or that I was simply desperate for company. Maybe I was. But there was something Amelia had, something my wife never had. My ex-wife that is. I wasn't sure what it was, but it was there, I couldn't explain it, I just know I had developed feelings for her in the small time as of two days, less than that actually seeming as we only spent about ten minutes to half an hour together each day.

She came every day, every day since then. We talked, and laughed together, joked about the bad quality of the food and other random things which seemed absolutely useless. I didn't know if Amelia felt the same way, she never said she had a lover, yet, she seemed to like me. But probably as a friend, if anything.

I found myself in agony the final day. The fourth day, I would be killed tomorrow. I would never see her again. I told her that I wished I could see her tomorrow, and she told me that I would, even though I was going to be shot in the early morning. I wasn't sure what she meant, but went I finished eating I sat in silence for a few minutes and she stood up, tray in her hand.
Each movement she made towards that door was torture, when she opened the door I found myself leaping towards her and trying to hold her hand, or some way to make her stay, but I missed and landed on the hard floor at her feet.

'I love you Amelia!' I blurted out before I could stop myself. There was silence, an awful silence; I didn't know what to do now.

Amelia was stunned.

'I- I'm sorry, Ed, I-'

She shut the door in my face before she answered; I could hear her moving away from my room as quickly as she could, in a professional manner. I had scared her, I knew it. She wouldn't see me tomorrow, however that was. I was ruined. For the rest of the day I sat in the corner of my room in misery.

I didn't sleep that night. The chill from outside, and inside, had made me ill. I hadn't left my cell for those days Amelia came, I hadn't gotten fresh air outside. I should of. But I was too lovesick to do anything. I blindly punched the wall causing my knuckles to bleed. I coughed up blood and writhed on the ground in pain. My stomach was killing me.

The guards came into my room when I was resting on the nice cold ground, calming me. It was still dark outside, I remembered that I was told that I would be executed at two o clock in the morning. It must be then.

'What a mess.' One of the guards exclaimed, and they both supported me on their shoulders, dragging me out of the room. I knew that we went past many doors like mine, all equally silent, we went through some gates and I soon felt the wind wiping my face. I breathed in the air cheerfully. This was it.

I slowly opened my eyes. The weather seemed to be mourning with me, as it was cloudy, I couldn't see the sun in the sky. Then again, the weather was always this way.

They had taken me into a small field, and they shoved me up against a brick wall, restraining me from any possible escape.
I was outside of the prison's walls for the first time in days. I was free for the last time in my life.
I peered towards the large wooden door they had brought me through and there were various staff members there wearing green uniforms. I saw a man with a bushy moustache load the rifle in his hands.

'Ready?' he called. The guards holding me against the wall obviously nodded because he continued explaining why I was there and why I was being executed. I didn't need to know this, I already knew it. If you kill, you die for it, simple as that.

I caught the eye of one person in green and looked mournfully at them. It was Amelia. Her eyes seemed to be watering, but she kept her professional look. Did she cry whenever she watched somebody die? Was I the first one who she had ever spoken to? I would never know the answers to these questions because I was going to die.

'Fire at will.' called the guard on my right.

I gazed at Amelia. How can you just stand there? I wanted to yell at her, and scream at her for giving me anguish but I was too weak. I saw her mouth something and heard a small sob escape her afterwards.

'I love you.' Is what she had said.

I couldn't believe it, even though I wanted to. Even though she gave me more joy than anybody else could of these last few days. I just couldn't believe it. But I did. And I felt myself fighting against the grip of the guards, but they shoved me hard against the wall. I felt my right shoulder dislocate, or become fractured, I didn't know, nor did I really care.

The gun fired and I felt life leaving me, my body crumpled on the ground, I let out a yell, and I know Amelia could hear it. I wanted her to, I needed her to.

'Amelia!' I shrieked, gasping for breath, 'You-'

Amelia watched as the man she had listened to and laughed with, fall to the ground with a thump. She felt a tear leave her eye and she blocked her ears, she didn't want to hear what he said as it would cause her too much grief.

'-made my life worthwhile.'

Amelia caught his eye and the look on his face was heart-breaking. Amelia took a deep breath and shut her eyes. When she opened them, he was dead.