Death Row

Such a peculiar place. They have us locked up in here, separate from each other to prevent us from killing the other even though they counting down the days till we hang. I say, let a man go with dignity. Let him go giving his fists one last taste of blood. Instead, they got us locked in her like steer waiting for slaughter. We bulls who no longer useful to the herd and need to be put down. To say I don't like it would be an understatement.

He comes the same time every night. His club tapping across the bars sporadically just to wake us up. I know I belong here, hell I'd put me here if I had to, but there should be a cell for him to. That club of his had tapped more than just bars, a few skulls and more than a few assholes have the scars to prove it. Not mine though. He know if kill him. Id welcome the beating they'd give me, aft least it would break up the day, maybe even be my final day. Like pop always said, once you at the bottom, you don't gotta fear going down anymore.

I know hell is waiting on me. I can hear the fires in my dreams. Am I terrified? Shit yeah but only cuz I haven't been yet. I ain't afraid to say I afraid. Honesty isn't something I lack, my doctor said. Compassion, empathy, those were the things lacking he babbled as they lead him out bleeding. His ear never did look right again after I took a chimp out of it. I didn't do it cuz I'm crazy or cuz I wanted to hurt him, though I did enjoy it. No, I did it cuz I wanted to get put here. In death Row.

Now, I done many crimes that warrant me being strung up but I didn't get caught for them. No. I ain't a idiot, contrary to popular opinion. Rather I'm what you would call driven. I'm driven to complete whatever I set my mind to and I set my mind to get thrown in here in Texas on this day I needed to be here. The voices tell me so.

Now, I know what you're probably thinking, paranoid schizophrenia. Naw. At least I don't believe so. I believe the voices to be real. They knew things I didn't, things I couldn't. They told me to be here, in two hours, and told me exactly how to do it. Again, I ain't crazy. I'm driven. There's a difference. See, these voices know something about some people I'm trying to find. They know where they live, who they fucking, where they drink, and where the buy their fucking bread. I want them bad. I need them. So I listen to these voices even though I know hell is waiting.

I don't care though. I don't care that I have essential sold my soul to things I haven't even seen yet but no need to fear drowning when you're already at the bottom, right? So I'm here, and that club is tapping closer. The lights are out but I can see his shadow growing even in the dark. He is one of them, or was anyways. He was one of the voices that called and now he's here as flesh and blood. The others, they say to wait and they shall provide. A care package from below as a trade for killing him. He's just outside the next cell down. Sweat builds on my brow in anticipation. My muscles flex and relax smoothly under my skin, pythons waiting for the heat of the kill. He's getting closer now. I used to doubt they could provide. There was a time where I would've not believed that they could do what they can but hallelujah call me a believer.