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Life on Death Row

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"Billy Foster. Cell 11345." I looked up as the lady at the desk called out my name. The man in blue uniform behind me grabbed my arm and pulled me forward once more, starting off down yet another unbearably grey corridor... much like the one we had come from a minute ago. I twisted round to see the desk disappear out of sight as we rounded another corner, and another. Our footsteps echoed eerily on the prison floor, and I couldn't help but notice the keys jangling at the guard's hip. Suddenly we stopped at one of the countless grey doors that lined the corridor. I stared up blankly at the sign. "Billy Foster 11345." "Home sweet home..." laughed the guard grimly. "If you're lucky, you won't have to spend too long in here, mate." He fumbled with the lock and opened the door, stepping aside to let me in. I set my teeth, took one last look down the corridor, and ducked inside my cell. The guard stepped forward into the doorway, blocking out the light from the passage way. "Someone will come for you at six for an hour's exercise every day, starting tomorrow. And you get one meal a day... other than that... enjoy what time you have." And with loud clang that signified the start of my stay on death row, the guard slammed shut and locked the iron door. ...read more.


Then she'd turned to me. "Dad. Can we go to a different restaurant?" I had frowned at her. "Why the sudden change of mind? I thought you loved this place." "Dad I do..." "Then let's go here!" I had practically dragged her over to that restaurant. As we approached I saw the man square himself up, and when I stepped up to open the door he barred the way. That's when I realised we had trouble. "I should have listened to her, and then I wouldn't be stuck in this damn cell." I shouted to myself, standing up and kicking the bed angrily. The man next door snorted. "Believe me, beating yourself up won't make it any better." The there was a thoughtful silence. "Hey," said the man "You black?" I frowned, fervently hoping I wasn't stuck next to a racist. After all, I'd had more than enough of racism in the past few months. Hadn't racism been the root of all my trouble, the very reason I was stuck like a criminal behind bars? The reason I was a criminal. After all, I had only thrown a punch at that man outside 'Luigi's' when he'd called Lucy a "f***in' black slag". Of course he'd retaliated when I hit him, swinging out at me wildly, whilst hurling all sorts of abuse. ...read more.


I have a few kids myself, and I wouldn't want any parent to be left in the dark when it concerns the lives of their children. Even murderous scum like you." I could actually hear the sneer in his voice, but I over looked this. My mind was far too full of worry for Lucy. I sat down on my cell's floor and waited. And waited. At last, after it seemed hours, the guard returned. He didn't say a word, just unlocked the door and walked in. That's when I knew, from the look on his face. She had gone. "I'm sorry buddy." Tears sprung instantly to my eyes and my vision clouded over. That was it. Lucy was dead, there was nothing left in my life. Nothing at all. I heard the door slam shut and the guard's retreating footsteps. I realised with a jolt that he had left the door unlocked, and the light shining through the crack between the door and the wall frame beckoned me invitingly. Through my tears I could just make out the floor of the hallway outside. But I didn't run for freedom. I didn't care. My world had smashed into a million pieces before my very eyes. The very ground beneath my feet now felt as unstable as my prison bed and I collapsed in a shaking heap on the floor, wishing I was already out of death row. Wishing I was already dead. ...read more.

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