Gallows

The pen scratches across the rough paper, her hands shake as she writes rushed and barely readable words. Her words have splotches of blood on them, blood from her battered and bruised hands, she doesn’t mind the pain though, she’s learnt to live with it, to make it a part of her herself. Finally she sets the pen down and stares at her hands, they’re blue and red, red from the blood and blue from the ink. Slowly she looks at the rest of her arms, she hasn’t looked at herself in over six months because she already knows what she’ll see; bony limbs, pale skin covered in black, blue, even green bruises, thinning hair, and large bright blue eyes. It is a wander of all who meet her how her eyes can still be so bright, so full of life even after all the sufferings she has endured, even she wonders sometimes.

She takes the paper in her hands and slowly folds until it can perfectly fit in her palm, then writes ‘daughter dearest’ and clutches it to her chest. She lifts her knees up to her chest and rests her head on them, and then after months of silently enduring the pain, months of denying herself the luxury to weep, she weeps. And everyone lets her be.

After hours, she looks up and meets the intense gaze of the girl opposite her. She looks young, barely 16. The girl’s eyes, unlike her own, are cold and bitter. Her mouth is set in a grim line and she sits with her back straight as a pin. Her hair’s been shaved off unevenly and she’s barely dressed but she doesn’t seem to mind, not even the cold.

Slowly she shifts her gaze to the light snaking into the room through the cracks in the wall, there is no window in the room, only a steel metal door and single pale lightbulb to provide light. If she looks closely enough into the rays, she can see the suspended particles, seemingly playing and racing to the finish line. Once she too used to play and race, but that seems like an eternity ago, now all she can do is wait.

“569” her heart jumps at the announcement, a plump short woman dressed entirely in shiny orange emerges from the shadows, she walks with her head held high, when she reaches the door, she salutes then marches out and the door is shut once more. The other women seem to be shaken to the core, they all thought Sunny – as everyone had taken to calling her – would be pardoned and set free.

She closes her eyes and tries to imagine the pain she is going to feel. Deep down she knows she’s scared and wishes she could have another life, a life where she could laugh and run and play with her daughter.

“575”

“575”

“575”

Her number echoes in her ears, the sound getting louder each time. She puts her hands to her ears to try and silence it but it seems to only get louder. She feels her throat tighten and her chest begin to burn. It’s as though there’s a fire licking at her insides. No one notices her turmoil, everyone is in their own universe, imaging the life they could have lived if a different decision had been made days, weeks, months, even years before.

Suddenly the girl with cold and bitter eyes drops to the floor, no one goes to her, she begins to spasm, and still no one goes to her. Finally her body stills all movement and she lays lifeless on the floor. It’s a sore sight: her eyes are wide open staring into nothingness, her tongue hangs out of her mouth, slowly changing color. The other women look away, but she is intrigued and stares at the dead body at her feet. She imagines herself like that; dead and ugly. She stares unblinking until her eyes begin to hurt and tear up.

“570” another announcement. No one moves, the doors are swung open and the wardens walk in, they kick the dead body aside like it’s a rug. A small woman sits huddled in the corner, even from afar, one can see how her body trembles. As the wardens approach her she begins to cry and scream. The wardens ignore her and yank her by her hair, dragging her out of the room, she’s kicking and begging for mercy but with every plea, a painful whip is landed on her.  

Once the door is shut, everyone returns to their thoughts. However she can’t think straight anymore, she’s scared. A part of her begins to regret her actions but another part, a larger part, does not. She remembers the day she did it - the day she killed her husband - as though it was yesterday, she had been planning it for months, down to the very last detail, down to her own death. She closes her eyes and pictures her daughter, her little baby, she killed him for her, she knew the consequences, and yet she still did it, for Ginger her daughter.

For a long time, everything seems to move in slow motion, the door is opened multiple times but she can’t hear the number or the struggle of the prisoner, slowly the room is emptying. There are only three more people left, four with the dead girl. The other women are muttering under their breaths, prayers maybe, but she sits still, not moving, not talking. She has lost all emotions except love for her daughter, even the hate is gone. For once she feels almost at peace. Almost.

“574”

The wardens rush in and look at the dead girl in disgust, they walk back out and return minutes later with hard brooms, which they use to push the girl’s body out, they’ll probably give it to the dogs. She closes her eyes and breaths deeply, it will soon be her turn. She tries to imagine the calm that will take over her body once she’s dead. She envisions her body hanging limp, her face covered with a sack. She knows it won’t be a pretty sight.

“575”

The announcement echoes around the room bouncing from her ears to the walls and back. She doesn’t want to be disgraced by being dragged out of the room, so she stands up and walks to the door. The cold air hits her as the door is swung open in her face. The warden grunts and motions for her for follow him. The sun is blinding as she walks out of the room. She reaches a table where she drops the letter she wrote to her daughter, hopefully it will arrive to its destination in two or three days. She continues her walk until she sees them, the gallows, but only for a minute as a sack is thrown over her head and she begins to ascend the forty seven steps to the top platform, where the gallows await, where death awaits.