Standing in front of the judges has made me realise that I am truly in trouble now. After this there will be no more second chances. The finality of it scares me and my hands shake in the tight metal cuffs that encircle my sore wrists. I cannot tell them the entire truth for only the reason that they would never believe it. They would convince themselves that it was some elaborate lie to trick them into setting me free.
I will confide in you though. The words that flutter into my head recorded soundly for someone to hopefully find someday. I confide in you because I know that you are the only one who will truly listen. I shall not begin at the start because that would show how I have worsened over time, I think that if I travel back over time then I may seem a better person.
This is my story, beginning at the end.
May 13th 2005
Old, grey walls stand to attention- ancient soldiers guarding barren courtyard after courtyard. It is obvious to me know why this place is often called Satan’s Playground- it is a hell hole in every sense of the word. It is where the worst people come to end their life and Lucifer must spend most of his time here, collecting each evil soul from it’s unmoving body.
Nothing moves, nothing stirs and I can’t help but feel like I have been thrown straight into a washed out watercolour. The heavy sound of silence fills the dank air and I feel it’s weight pressing in on me from all angles. Suffocating. A pair of black wrought iron gates block the entrance yet the acrid smell of burning escapes through the metal and into my nostrils.
Below the stark grey sky is a concrete path that snakes away towards more dull brickwork, splashes of colour are only provided by the dying weeds that have almost entirely melted into the ground. I can feel the depression of this place leaking from the walls and soaking into my pores.
Despite all this I still have a small flicker of hope that my angel will be okay. That is all that is all that matters to me now.
*********************
Slowly their eagle eyes rake over my entire being, scrutinising me with any premonitions they may already have. I can see in their eyes that they do not think of me as a man, rather than a number that lies upon page upon page of legal documents. It stops them acknowledging what I have done.
I am of no worth to them.
April 1st 2005
They say that my case is being reviewed by the courts, possibly to keep my spirits up, they say that a man without hope is an incredibly dangerous one. Their efforts are in vain anyway, my happiness has already been sucked dry. I do not wish for escape, just the safety of my angel.
Every day is more monotonous than the last and after four months in these dank cells I feel the monotony weaving it's way through every thought I have. At first the other men were indifferent to me but know their angry eyes hold hostility. Each beating is worse than the last yet I daren't tell anyone as even the guards here hate me.
I try to hide the bruises, unwilling to seem weak even though I know that these men understand why I am here. I am not some wimp, nor am I here by accident. I am here for murder and everyone knows it.
*********************
I am less than a man. They can only see the words on the paper- the facts and figures but they do not know the full story. Even if they did they would feel no different. I know that I have been condemned to die. All I want know is to know how my angel is. To know that she is safe.
December 2nd 2004
Staring down at the bloody body on the carpet I feel a wave of acid crawl up my throat. I bend down and wrap my fingers around the red slicked knife, dragging it from the shredded flesh it is buried deep within. I sling the dagger across the room. His lifeless eyes are open and they stare at me with little expression other than fear. I suspect my reflection holds the same image. Fear at myself and the creature I have become. Disgusting- that is what I am. Disgusting.
I feel my stomach churn once again as I reach deep into the body's pocket and pull out the scrappy papers which are worth this man's life. She is my daughter- my angel. Not his.
I kick his limp hand's away and wrap my crimson red fingers around his ankle and pull with all my might. He is not a small man by any means and I have to exert lots of effort just to get him into the small cupboard. I can already hear the sirens in the distance and my heart races in panic. Knowing that I have no chance at escape I quickly reach for the crumpled paper and stare at it, ignoring the tears that form in my eyes I analyse every detail meticulously.
Even in this childish sketch I can make out two figures and some messy scrawl beneath them. The scrawl can just be made out to read Me and Daddy and even though the drawings are not great I can tell who they are meant to be. My angel stands on the left, hand clasped by the man on the right who is undeniably not me. I am not in this picture, nor her life.
*********************
Even before I hear the words I know the result. Guilty. Now they give me the letter I have been begging to read this whole time and I take a deep breath as I look at the barely legible scrawl.
My little angel has written me a letter. I read it and drop to my knees, unable to take the pain that each word brings.
To Daddy,
I know that you are my real daddy because mummy said so. Mummy says that even though you are my real daddy you are not a nice person and that makes me really bad. Everyone else at schools daddy's pick them up but you don't and when they ask me where my real daddy is and I say he is in jail they run off. That makes me really sad and I am glad that you don't stay with us anymore.
I think I prefer my proper daddy because mummy loves him but she said that he isn't coming back because he's somewhere called heaven. My teacher told me that heaven is up in the sky but you can't get there very easily. Mummy says it's your fault daddy's not coming back. Just because you're my real daddy doesn't mean I like you better than my proper daddy, you're not a nice man and I don't like you.
Why did you take my daddy away? Now I have no daddy because you are going away to that heaven place too mummy says. You are a horrid man and I wish that you weren't my daddy.
Meggie
As long is she is safe it doesn't matter. That is what I tell myself but deep down I want her to love me too.
October 18th 2004
Yellow light blankets empty street, bathing everything in a sickly artificial glow. My legs are stretched out on the pavement, uncaring of the gum and rubbish pasted to the slabs below. People seem to be unable to see or hear me yet I know that I am not invisible to them because they flinch when I call to them. What is so bad about being homeless? Why do they despise and fear me so much, I am truly not a bad person. Just one who cares too much for their own good. I can see the the fear burning in their eyes as they snarl at my dirty face.
There is a sickness in my stomach as I think about the letter that has forced me to give up the one thing I truly care about. The divorce did not bother me one bit, but the fact that she is not my daughter anymore has forced a crack through my stone like heart. My angel is just a stranger to me now. Now some unknown man cares for my angel and feeds her lies about me.
I am honestly not as bad as they say.
I saw the drawings that my angel made of him- the pictures that should be of mine and belonging to me but instead feature the beast that ares for her now.
Flames of emerald green envy flicker through my body as I contemplate this. I can imagine taking the pictures from him and I feel a perverted sense of pleasure at this thought. I have only tried to help, tried to give up all that I can to help the ones I love and this is how I have been repaid.
*********************
The chair is cold against my skin but the fear racing through my nerves is much colder. My fingers can barely stop shaking as I run them over the creamy envelope and there is a fat lump wedged in my throat. As my life ends i want to make sure hers can begin in the best way possible. I feel a sickness in my stomach that is threatening to bubble up my throat.
I tear the letter open.
September 29th 2004
Slowly all eyes in the court room turn to face me. Nobody feels sympathy for me because my life is not as valued as theirs. I have less therefore I am less. My empty wallet sits in my back pocket, empty and useless but there none the less The judge has consulted the jury and now I sit and await the verdict.
Sweat runs down my forehead and I can taste the tang of metal on my tongue as I run it over my teeth. The judge stares at me, her piercing glare slicing through my entire being. I amn unfit to care for my own child. It is because I have no money or home yet my angel was the one I spent it on. If they just recognised the fact that I have given up everything for my angel then I would stand a chance but they turn a blind eye.
*********************
Before I read the words I ask for these pages because eventually I want my angel to know the truth. I want my angel to find out how much I cared for her. I want her to know that her father was not a bad man, just a truly unlucky one. Each word I scratch down on the parchment brings a fresh sense of anger at my worthless self. Why did I let the the jealousy get to me? If I had just carried on then maybe I could have become her father again.
But I failed.
August 12th 2004
Cleanliness surrounds me in a clear plastic bubble- numbing my senses. All the words and voices around me are nothing but a drone as I drag my dirty feet along the pristine tiles of the floor. Everything is alien to me here, disjointed and unconnected, creating a bridge between the robots in scrubs and everyone else.
Each door brings me closer but speed does not change as I get nearer to my destination. Time has stopped for me. Even though teh otehr people stand out against the bleakness I barely notice them, their bodies blurred as if underwater. Finally I reach the door to reveal and angel ina sea of wires and machines.
All of I sudden I feel dirty, unworthy of being in the presence of such a beautiful human. Her sleeping face peacefully untouched by the viperous wires that snake around her body, attack her most vulnerable spots. So much I have given up for her and she has never truly met me. I have given up my money, my house and my health just so that she could get the life saving surgery she needs and they still don't know if enough has been done. All I can do now if pray that she pulls through.
*********************
It is the end for me. I have read the letter. I have told what little of my story matters. I have lived all the life I am allowed to live. Now everything is over.
I can only tell you the specifics of what will happen to my body as I die for that is all I am certain of. First I will feel like my entire body is being burned as the electricity courses through my veins. Next my vital organs will short out leaving only my brain at the end. Finally I will lose consciousness and will slip into whatever comes next. Then my life is over.
What I cannot tell you is how I will feel as the volts shudder through me. There is no fear in me left, nor anger or resignation. I can only guess that I will feel nothing at all. I have no feelings left.
I do know that for a fact I my soul will not die and I will not feel bad for what I have left behind. It will be so much better without me. My soul will not shatter, split nor explode for that would be impossible. I have no soul left.
Just as they come to strap me down I read the letter once more and let the last tear I have escape.
Dear Sir,
Your daughter sadly passed away on November 15th 2004. You were only recently informed due to the wishes of the child's guardian at the aforementioned date. We are sorry for your loss.
Six months she has been dead.
