Execution

The executioner gave a sorrowful sigh as he slid the needle into my arm. “Please, I’m begging you,” my voice shook. He sat in the chair opposite me and locked his fingers together. “When I push this button, the drug will be administered into your vein in quick succession. Unconsciousness will occur in approximately 30 seconds and death soon after that,” he explained. I looked to the contraption sitting on the table. It comprised a glass vessel, containing a blue liquid, with a metal base. “Any final words?” The executioner asked. “Just again, please don’t do this.” He nodded then reached over and pushed the button. I watched as the liquid began to flow through the tube and into my vein.

All the evidence points to me. But I didn’t murder him. I’m always careful. I try to stay out of trouble. But when I was mugged on my way home from work that night and the guy fired his gun at me, he’s the one that started bleeding. When the cops came, they found me kneeling beside the body, trying to figure out what to do and stupidly holding the gun. What the hell was I thinking? I should have run the second it happened.

I came back to reality when the executioner fell off his chair and on to the floor. I took the needle out of my arm , stood up and walked around to the other side of the table. I crouched down next to the body and tears began to form in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.