“I am so tired. Tired of fighting people, governments, my own desires
and needs that have no place in our world, or so I am told.
‘Tired of explaining myself to you. Trying to make you see who I am,
and why I do what I do. I mean, does it really matter? Who are you to
even care? My thoughts are my own and I should not be wasting time
here writing this out for you. Not when tomorrow is such an important
day.
‘Questions. Questions. The lights are bright in this room and I feel like
walking over and turning them off, or even just dimming them, but I am
too tired. My eyes are sleepy and I suppose I had better get this done
first.
‘Who am I to care? Nobody so you tell me … not sure you are right
about that you know. I think I am more than you know. I have more
secrets than I will ever tell you anyway.
‘It started when I was so young. Hey, I was caring and empathic once
you know! I gave a shit about people like you and what you wanted and
then, one day I just didn’t care any longer. Why? Oh, I don’t know.
Perhaps the lies people told, the beltings received, the abuse. Who
knows. One day I did and the next day I woke up and just didn’t.
‘I worked hard though, at hiding it. Do you have any idea how much
work that can take? Do you possibly have any inklings how bloody
grateful I am now to tell you the truth about my feelings?
‘I am getting tireder and really should sleep.
‘You asked me to give you places in the past, names, dates… I can see
you reading this and hoping to find it all out. My past, my dirty little
secrets. Last laugh is mine. I am not going to tell you. Anything.
At all.
‘Shit, so tired. I am going to leave this now and come back to it
tomorrow. I may tell you something then. Just a little something to tempt
you, to tease you, to set you wondering.
‘Yes, tomorrow I may tell you just one secret to make you happy…. see?
I care a little still.”
The prison warden put down the piece of paper he had been reading,
and sighing slid the glasses off his nose and placed them on the table.
He rubbed his brow. Shaking his head he sat down at his desk
“Nothing?” shouted Ben. “He told us NOTHING?”
Charlie sighed again. Now executed they would never learn his
secrets.
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It’s interesting the way you write with a twist at the end, because the way we perceive the situation means we react differently. Knowing that the person speaking was a prisoner on death row, may have skewed our thinking and our thoughts and perhaps had not allowed us to see him as a human and perhaps only a monster. But instead, we feel a connection to pain we’ve already had and we feel sympathy and empathy for him. Obviously, doesn’t mean what he did (as we do not know, but being on death row, means it was pretty bad) is okay, but unless a psychopath, it means he was hurt beyond repair. Brave writing. Maggie
I’m thrilled you like my writing enough to keep reading more stories. I try to do exactly what you just said. People react to things differently and assume things. I try to remove that from the equation and get into the hearts of the subject
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At first, there was sympathy growing for this person but then in between the lines, I started to grasp and question the mental health of this person possibly. That possibility turned into a sickness of such a severity, that was cause for a death row sentence. Amazing depth of writing and the twist at the end, here, Abbie!!!
Thank you!