The Thirteen

“LOOK AT ME,” THE EXECUTOR SNAPPED in the face of Catherine Rambois, bringing her broken focus from the wall to the rugged man in front of her. Bright blue eyes existing to the sweating woman caught the gaze of the bearded man with eyes as dark as charcoal. “How do you plead?”

She breathed deeply, until her ragged breaths turned into a snicker. The left side of her lip upturned, the right following quickly after. To the crowd watching, the look of euphoria disgusted them. To the executor, it enraged him. “Innocent.”

The Executor smashed his sword against the wooden plank next to him. “You plead innocent to the murder of fifty two innocent human beings. You plead innocent to murder, am I hearing you correctly?”

“None of us are innocent, sir,” Catherine cooed. That voice attracted tens of men into her hold. That voice gave her the incentive to murder whoever she pleased. “Not I, not them.”

”Kill her!" a voice screamed from the crowd. Hundreds of others yelled out their verbal agreement, seeming to prove her point more than she could have hoped for. Anyone who hopes for another’s death, even if that another is evil, has cruelty in their bones. Whether they pretend it is justice or not.

The executor glanced to the crowd, a continuous look of stoicism on his face. He did not care what the people could say, they could yell to spare the woman’s life and he would still do the deed he was hired on to do. The worst executor the kingdom had was called upon for the murder of Catherine Rambois. The worst that would not be able to fall for her ploys. Little did they know.

“Catherine Rambois, you are hereby guilty for the murder of fifty two.” He held tighter onto his sword, getting ready to stab her in the wooden chair she sat in. She faced the crowd, facing the disgusted looks that stared back at her.

Upon searching the crowd, her face appeared frantic for the first time as her eyes found someone in the front row. Only a few feet in front of her, stood someone of which we could never know. Catherine shook her head, tears in her eyes.

The executor did not notice the tears, nor cared if he had. He raised his sword, aiming at the spot on her chest that would do the most damage. Some would think that killing her gave her too much relief, but others believed that such evil shouldn’t be able to walk on this Earth. The Executor didn’t care either way. He didn’t have an opinion, he was just meant to do what he was told.

Catherine’s eyes met the other’s eyes, for one last second of calm in her life that was too brief. The Executor’s sword pierced the murderer’s chest, and she gasped out in pain. She finally knew the pain it felt to lose your life, the question she had for her entire life.

Her bloody lips fought for breath. In the crowd, there were even people who smiled. As if once her evil was released, it inhabited other people to continue its reign. The executor knew what he was doing by not stabbing her right in the heart. He enjoyed watching people fight for breath. That was he was made for.

The woman fought to look back at the person in the front row. With her last breath, with every thing she had left, Catherine Rambois said two words. Two words that no one else could comprehend, but the person in the front row got way too well.

“Protect her.”

With that, she took her last ragged breath and her death covered over everyone like a tough blanket. Her head lulled over, looking the most vulnerable she had since a child.

The Executor wiped his blood covered sword on his pants, turning to face the quiet mob. No expression was shown on his face. He tilted his head curiously, watching the person in the front row turn and push through the crowd.

Soon, the rest of them turned away from him as well. No one cheered, no one cried. No one was sure how to react besides leaving swiftly from the quarter. The person from the front row was lost in the crowd, never to be seen by the Executor or anyone ever again.