Cell
One
"State for the court what your full name is and why you are here."
"My name is Xavier, James Hayden, and I am here on trial for the murder of Daniel Peterson and his wife Olivia at their home on the 12th of June, 2013." His legs ache, the shackles round his wrists are too tight and have already begun to make sores on his skin. It is a hot summer's day in California, and he can feel the sweat begin to seep from his pores. The two prison guards on either side of him smell, one of smoke and coffee, the other of body odour and strong cologne that has failed to cover it.
He hardly hears the words of the judge, and he looks at the faces of the people who will decide wether or not he should be put on death row for his actions.
They would never know him, his temperament, his back story, his reasons for the deaths of the young couple that he was now on trial for. He wonders absently if they were all without actions and crimes that were embedded in their very souls, for he didn't think they could be. What he did was beyond terrible, but he had reasons.
In the background there were fans running, just circulating the warm air. They needed air conditioning.
Somehow, through the web of confusion and general haze that had settled over him in the past few days, he couldn't find it in him to be scared, or angry, sad or guilty. He didn't feel anything. Not anymore. He'd felt enough emotions for a lifetime.
The only thing he heard in that court room...what he really heard, was the slam of the hammer on the podium as the judge declared he was guilty, and sentenced him to death row to await his execution.
The drive from the court house to the high security prison, was torturous, a last glimpse at freedom, people walking along the street, living their lives, kids playing, the few clouds in the sky hardly moving. The last look at what his life could have been, before he entered the prison, and did the famously soul-destroying walk through the jail....to his cell.
"My name is Xavier, James Hayden, and I am here on trial for the murder of Daniel Peterson and his wife Olivia at their home on the 12th of June, 2013." His legs ache, the shackles round his wrists are too tight and have already begun to make sores on his skin. It is a hot summer's day in California, and he can feel the sweat begin to seep from his pores. The two prison guards on either side of him smell, one of smoke and coffee, the other of body odour and strong cologne that has failed to cover it.
He hardly hears the words of the judge, and he looks at the faces of the people who will decide wether or not he should be put on death row for his actions.
They would never know him, his temperament, his back story, his reasons for the deaths of the young couple that he was now on trial for. He wonders absently if they were all without actions and crimes that were embedded in their very souls, for he didn't think they could be. What he did was beyond terrible, but he had reasons.
In the background there were fans running, just circulating the warm air. They needed air conditioning.
Somehow, through the web of confusion and general haze that had settled over him in the past few days, he couldn't find it in him to be scared, or angry, sad or guilty. He didn't feel anything. Not anymore. He'd felt enough emotions for a lifetime.
The only thing he heard in that court room...what he really heard, was the slam of the hammer on the podium as the judge declared he was guilty, and sentenced him to death row to await his execution.
The drive from the court house to the high security prison, was torturous, a last glimpse at freedom, people walking along the street, living their lives, kids playing, the few clouds in the sky hardly moving. The last look at what his life could have been, before he entered the prison, and did the famously soul-destroying walk through the jail....to his cell.
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