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Description
A man has been sentenced. Years ago, he committed a crime and now it is time for him to pay his debt to society. How?

By ending his life.

That criminal is a bad man by all moral standards. He murdered two young women in blind rage, so savagely that they had to be identified through dental records. How can anyone be so cruel?

The man has a name, but I have already forgotten it. All I can think of is his punishment. I'm sitting safely behind glass walls, peering into chamber where a man - a doctor? - prepares the needle. I'm unsure how I feel about this.

My pondering comes to a halt when he enters the room. I have never seen him before, just heard the story about his vicious crime. But is this really the man I've been told about? He seems so….ordinary. He doesn't look evil. He doesn't look cruel. By gazing at him, you would think he is just a man among all the rest in the world. It is the guards that look serious. Clapped the criminal in chains, they hold him with stone cold glances. They don't even look at the man, just drag him to the bier where he is to meet his maker.

There is a pause. There are a few whispers, but mostly the room is quiet. I say nothing. I haven't even looked at the other people around me. I don't want to. I was called to be a witness, and I accepted. I thought it would be an…experience. I'm beginning to think it will be a rather disturbing one.

The penalty is about to commence. The doctor walks up the criminal. A guard stands at the end of the bier and asks the sentenced if he has any last words. He does, speaking with a voice stripped of emotion:

"There is more than one murderer in this room."

That statement is chilling. I'm beginning to think he is right. The guard nods to the doctor, who holds up the needle, and gently takes hold of the prisoner's arm. Then he presses the syringe into a vein, slowly. Why so slowly? Let this happen fast, don't let the bad man suffer more than he has to! But my internal objections go unheard. The needle slowly enters the man's arm. He shows no emotion, no remorse, no fear, no anger. His features are plain blank. I admire his strength. The strength of a brutal murderer. This does not make sense. I should hate him, commend the court for bringing this monster to justice, so that he may never harm another woman again. But I don't. The only one I commend in this room is the one whose hideous crimes are now to be punished.

I wonder if there is any pain. There are rumors that the final moments of these convicted's lives are filled with physical agony, on top of the obvious psychological. Perhaps he is paralyzed, unable to show even a hint of the torture he goes through. Or perhaps he feels nothing, and simply falls asleep. I do not know. The insurance from the administration responsible saying that he will not suffer rings in my ear, but I don't know if I believe them.

The criminal closes his eyes. Has he stopped breathing? No…they haven't pronounced him dead yet. This is taking so long, too long. That man is a bad man, but he is facing the end of his life, and as such, he is as human as any other. I don't believe the serene look in his eyes. I think he is scared. I would be. Anyone would. I think he might be praying. Does he believe in God? Probably not. But maybe he is calling to the Lord anyway, if not for forgiveness, then for mercy.

The doctor now approaches the man again. He flips the stethoscope in his ears and puts the device on the man's bare chest. I hope he is still alive. I hope that the entire system of justice, that all courts, all lawyers, all next-of-kin, angels, gods and citizens have changed their minds to let this man live. He is a bad man, a cruel man, but god damn it, he is human, and he's being put down like rabid dog. A rabid dog even puts up a fight, but this…this criminal does not object. He is as docile as a pup sucking milk from its mother's tits. I cannot look. I can only hope.

There is a grave silence. No sound is heard for an eternity. The atmosphere in the room is tense, frightening. I cross my arms across my chest to protect myself. I want this to be over, but not in this way.

Finally, five words break the silence:

"Death occurred at 9:14 AM."

Description
A man has been sentenced. Years ago, he committed a crime and now it is time for him to pay his debt to society. How?

By ending his life.

That criminal is a bad man by all moral standards. He murdered two young women in blind rage, so savagely that they had to be identified through dental records. How can anyone be so cruel?

The man has a name, but I have already forgotten it. All I can think of is his punishment. I'm sitting safely behind glass walls, peering into chamber where a man - a doctor? - prepares the needle. I'm unsure how I feel about this.

My pondering comes to a halt when he enters the room. I have never seen him before, just heard the story about his vicious crime. But is this really the man I've been told about? He seems so….ordinary. He doesn't look evil. He doesn't look cruel. By gazing at him, you would think he is just a man among all the rest in the world. It is the guards that look serious. Clapped the criminal in chains, they hold him with stone cold glances. They don't even look at the man, just drag him to the bier where he is to meet his maker.

There is a pause. There are a few whispers, but mostly the room is quiet. I say nothing. I haven't even looked at the other people around me. I don't want to. I was called to be a witness, and I accepted. I thought it would be an…experience. I'm beginning to think it will be a rather disturbing one.

The penalty is about to commence. The doctor walks up the criminal. A guard stands at the end of the bier and asks the sentenced if he has any last words. He does, speaking with a voice stripped of emotion:

"There is more than one murderer in this room."

That statement is chilling. I'm beginning to think he is right. The guard nods to the doctor, who holds up the needle, and gently takes hold of the prisoner's arm. Then he presses the syringe into a vein, slowly. Why so slowly? Let this happen fast, don't let the bad man suffer more than he has to! But my internal objections go unheard. The needle slowly enters the man's arm. He shows no emotion, no remorse, no fear, no anger. His features are plain blank. I admire his strength. The strength of a brutal murderer. This does not make sense. I should hate him, commend the court for bringing this monster to justice, so that he may never harm another woman again. But I don't. The only one I commend in this room is the one whose hideous crimes are now to be punished.

I wonder if there is any pain. There are rumors that the final moments of these convicted's lives are filled with physical agony, on top of the obvious psychological. Perhaps he is paralyzed, unable to show even a hint of the torture he goes through. Or perhaps he feels nothing, and simply falls asleep. I do not know. The insurance from the administration responsible saying that he will not suffer rings in my ear, but I don't know if I believe them.

The criminal closes his eyes. Has he stopped breathing? No…they haven't pronounced him dead yet. This is taking so long, too long. That man is a bad man, but he is facing the end of his life, and as such, he is as human as any other. I don't believe the serene look in his eyes. I think he is scared. I would be. Anyone would. I think he might be praying. Does he believe in God? Probably not. But maybe he is calling to the Lord anyway, if not for forgiveness, then for mercy.

The doctor now approaches the man again. He flips the stethoscope in his ears and puts the device on the man's bare chest. I hope he is still alive. I hope that the entire system of justice, that all courts, all lawyers, all next-of-kin, angels, gods and citizens have changed their minds to let this man live. He is a bad man, a cruel man, but god damn it, he is human, and he's being put down like rabid dog. A rabid dog even puts up a fight, but this…this criminal does not object. He is as docile as a pup sucking milk from its mother's tits. I cannot look. I can only hope.

There is a grave silence. No sound is heard for an eternity. The atmosphere in the room is tense, frightening. I cross my arms across my chest to protect myself. I want this to be over, but not in this way.

Finally, five words break the silence:

"Death occurred at 9:14 AM."