Capital Punishment

Capital Punishment(Dylan Nemes) I hear the metallic jingle of keys rattling against my cell door. Slowly, I turn my head towards the sound. I remain seated, cross-legged in the center of my confined room. I attempt to wet my lips but the lack of water for so many hours on end has left my mouth drier than sand. It's unlikely anyone will speak to me so it doesn't matter much anyway. The cell door creaks open and my sullen eyes meet with those of the young prison guard. He looks even more nervous than I do. And I'm the one on death row!
I slowly sit up, the effort revealing how sore my bones have become. I manage to stand up all on my own, the simple feat leaving me prouder than the winner of an Olympic medal. With time ticking away on my life clock, every action I execute seems longer than it should. How did my life come to this? Convicted for a murder I didn’t even-. My shoulders droop slightly and I sigh. There’s nothing I can do now.
As the guard approaches me with cuffs I take note of how much bigger I am than him. I bet I could easily take him and make a run for it. I chuckle to myself as I imagine dozens of guards chasing me down the prison halls yelling and screaming. I feel the ice-cold metal rub against my skin as I allow myself to be shackled. The guard proceeds to chain my legs together. The irons lightly pinches the skin on my legs but my mind is focused on the event ahead. The realization that this is really happening has finally dawned on me. I am about to die.
The echo of my footsteps down the halls seems louder than it should. I feel my legs slowly lose strength but my will orders them to stay strong. I have no wife and no children to worry about and I know it is better this way. Yet, a part of me wishes I did. I know it's selfish but I want someone to share my pain. To remember me when I’m gone. And know the truth about the murder. A tap on my shoulder snaps me back into reality. I turn towards the young guard once more. He points me down a narrow hallway. A single light bulb struggles to illuminate the dark corridor. I walk to its end and find myself in front of a thick metal door. Multiple locks and seals cover the edges of the door and I immediately know where it leads. I've arrived at the gas chamber.
I stare blankly at the door but do not dare open it. Why would I? I hear the squeaks of shoes against the floor as 2 men walk towards me from behind. I glance over my shoulder and take note of their appearances and dress. There is a reverend and an executioner. Both wear melancholy expressions on their faces. Only the reverend speaks.
"Do you wish to have a final meal?"
I simply shake my head, my stomach too full from my fear.
The prison guard takes a step forward and grabs the handle to the gas chamber door. The sound of expelled air pressure escapes the door as it’s pushed open. Once more thoughts of a struggles pass through my head. And once more I shrug them off. I take a shaky step inside.
The chamber is cold and smells of anesthetics, as if it were a hospital. The room is rectangular in shape with a large window on one side and the door facing it. The walls are made of plain concrete, sealed airtight. In the center, seat towards the window, stands a single chair, the only adornment of the chamber. The chair itself looks as it came right out of a history textbook. With a dark wooden seat and armrests covered in taut leather straps the chair appears ready to envelope its next victim. A prod on my back is all I need to know that it’s my turn to be the seat’s victim.
I seat myself against the wood, my back kept straight against its surface. The executioner begins to strap me in and in turn the reverend begins his practiced incantation. They say that Jesus felt no fear as they pinned him to the cross. But as I’m strapped to the chair, I find that hard to believe.
The two men exit the room before turning back to face me. Once more the reverend speaks.
“Any last words?”
I want to scream that I’m innocent, that I was falsely convicted and that I am the one being murdered but I don’t. I gave up a long time ago. His eyes look sad and forgiving but we both know this is going to happen no matter what. He nods his head and slams the door shut, the sound of the sealing air pressure exhaling into the room once more. I wait in silence for the chamber to begin its deadly reaction. I hear a quiet hissing start behind me. My heart is pounding right out of my chest as the bitter smell of poisonous gas fills my lungs. I close my eyes with one thought on my mind. I am innocent.