Prologue
I awoke to a short banging sound on the metal door to my small cell, turning to find the only thing I could both expect and still be surprised by.
“Prisoner number 17740, mister Greggory Lloyd Remmington.” I stood, parting my wrists in front of me, as the cold snap of the cuffs rings out in discord with my own thoughts.
“This completes your final request. The time is approximately 11:52 AM. Your execution will take place at exactly 12:01, by lethal injection.”
I wanted a one hour nap as my last request, partly because I hoped this was some horrid nightmare and that I would wake up, and partly because I had nothing better to wish for. I have no family to leave in a will, and nothing to leave them anyway.
I lose myself in the slow rhythm of my own footsteps, the monotone halls barren, taking in anything and everything to take my mind off the hopelessness of my situation, and I decide to dredge up the only memory that matters right now.
...
The courtroom was stunned to silence, and honestly, it took all of my self-discipline to maintain my own pokerface, too, although for an entirely different reason.
“Seven counts premeditated murder, one count attempted murder, six counts of theft, four counts of assault, resisting arrest, and lying to police. Young man, you are just nineteen years old, but these are serious allegations. How do you plead- and think carefully. You won’t get a second chance here.”
The jurors murmur among themselves, but I stopped caring at this point. I took a plea deal, and as long as I plead ‘guilty’, they keep looking for a way to prove my innocence. And let me clarify now, I am innocent. A man named Gabriel, son of a crime lord, has paid off my lawyer, the jury, the cops, possibly even the judge himself, planted evidence, and even killed so many people just to put me in jail.
Why? Because he lost a fight to me, and a round of bets placed on it. He told me himself he’d take me down, and he wasn’t lying. It’s life in prison even with the plea deal, and the death sentence without.
But just as I was about to speak, the doors at the back of the courtroom open. I turn, expecting a late lawyer or a cop or something. What I saw was a young man about my age with frosted tips, chains in his pants, a suit and tie, and a tattoo on his neck that reads “Prayer is my weapon.” It was the asshole that put me here, and I lost my cool.
“Ah, mister Gabriel? Your seat is open, this will be over soon.” He just nodded, not meeting our eyes, but as he sat, he flashed me a look that was between a smirk and a glare. A smirk that said This will be over soon... and it set me off.
All it takes is one word and I can walk away. Just say ‘guilty’ and I would live... But I would live without ever living my life. Never getting a job, even if I got out of prison, and I am not about to give him that satisfaction.
So, I grit my teeth, bare my fangs, and turn on the judge, not trying to hide my rage and conviction. “...Not. Guilty.”
The judge shakes his head silently, his gaze drifting as if I shamed him. My lawyer, on the other hand, looked both enraged and humiliated. And Gabriel? He blanched, like he’d be sick.
“After reviewing the evidence, the jury may give their verdict.”
“We have, your honor, and we find the defendant...” Now he looked like he was going to be sick too, and he looked to Gabriel, who was texting on the phone he shouldn’t have, and never looked up as he says, “Guilty, on all counts.”
The judge looked mildly surprised, but just nods and says “The plea deal in now void and the sentence unreduced. The penalty is death.”
Without hesitation, he strikes his gavel, but his lack of empathy doesn’t catch. Nobody else moves. Nobody else speaks.
Finally, my lawyer makes his way to my side, and it’s like a switch is flipped. Everyone begins to leave, as if nothing happened. As he reaches my side, my lawyer looks impatient but sullen. “I’m sorry Greggory, I can’t help you now. You’re on your own.” That set me off, too and I wheel to look him in the eye, the ice in my voice giving me chills.
“No, I think I’ve been alone this whole time.”
His eyes widen, and he staggers as I walk by, led by the guards. However, I didn’t get far before Gabriel steps into my path, his eyes cold.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want to die?!” Now that set me off even more. I didn’t need to be lectured by the guy who killed me, and so the ice in my voice is replaced by venom.
“No, Gabriel, I didn’t. But it sure as hell beats living my whole life being punished for a crime I didn’t commit. Freedom was the only thing I had left, and you took that from me, so congratulations, Gabe. You win. You sentenced me to death."
I shove past him, and he staggers out of my way, tripping over the lawyer to keep his balance. I follow the guards, hands bound, with Gabriel's eyes following me all the way.
...
The execution room was a plain white room, not unlike a dentist’s office. Except, of course, this dentist’s chair had straps for the arms and legs and the nurses were armed with .45 caliber pistols.
I sat back in the chair, to find (to my distaste) that Gabriel came to see me off. He was the only one there, arguing with somebody on the phone and glaring at me with a mix of awe, contempt, and grudging respect. I met his gaze evenly.
As the clock struck noon, the straps were down, and a doctor who was flicking a needle, said “Any last words?” even as he plunged the needle into my arm.
I couldn’t help but laugh at that, a bitter, harsh sound, because the bitterness of the whole ordeal was sickening.
“Yeah, I got four.” I fight the disgust and pain, and the shadows at the edge of my vision, as I'd you spite them all as I lean back. I look at each face individually, first the doctor, then the guards, and finally Gabriel, and hold my staring there, as I say “See you in Hell.”
