A Mother’s Sentence

TW: Murder (brief description of a child murdered), violence, body horror, child loss, postpartum depression/disorder, execution imagery, mentions of suicide.

Inmate #5589962

Kip James Magdon

Location: Westlake State Correctional Facility

Sentence: Death Row

Kip’s POV

When she cried for her mom, I didn’t respond.

When the blade nicked my wrist—the adrenaline had skewed my vision—I didn’t respond.

But when her confused and fading voice had asked for water, I gave it.

A half-drunk bottle of water lay in the bed of my truck. I left her only for a moment to retrieve it. Then I gently propped her up, pressed the plastic rim to her sticky lips, and tilted it. The water pooled in her small mouth, mixing with dirt and blood. I glanced at her soft blue eyes. They were empty. She was gone.

I understood the drug that fed my veins from claiming her life. I understood that I couldn’t stop. But what I can’t understand is why I had given her water?

Was it regret?

Kindness?

And after fifteen years spent alone with my thoughts—I still don’t know.

———

Soul #8,492,174,552

Scarlet Rose Voss

Location: Damnation

Sentence: Eternity

Scarlet’s POV

Positive. I blinked at the stick still dripping with urine.

When I called my mom, she cried for the both of us.

When I told Ray, he hugged me tighter than he ever had before. I smiled and mirrored his relief and joy.

But when her little body would kick me from the inside, it never made me jump with excited surprise. It was never something I was eager to share with others. It was just that—a kick in my side.

Skin-to-skin: beneficial.

Breastfeeding: best.

That mother-child bond: missing. It was always missing…

As Autumn grew, I thought that innate love would find me. It didn’t.

I tried therapy, medication, journaling.

Nothing.

Ray had that bond. That was good.

He grew distant from me. I understood.

I was still her mother, though. I was always present, regardless of how it felt like static.

Some days, I’d look at her blue eyes and wonder: where does her love for me come from?

I’d hold her hand, ignoring the shame that her touch felt like a stranger’s.

I hated myself for it.

Just try harder, I’d tell myself.

I’d slip into confession booths when the guilt became unbearable. At the time, I didn’t believe in God, but it was the only place I could have an honest conversation without judgement.

Years passed. Nothing changed, except Ray had left.

He loved Autumn, not me.

She loved us both.

And I still tried.

Then… she turned six.

It wasn’t my intention to fail.

I was there. But I should have been closer.

The swing swayed with her charm. She smiled. I smiled back. Then I looked away, lost in thought, something unimportant.

Then the swing was empty.

That instant panic didn’t even hit me…

I assumed she was in the tangle of children.

But once I stood to leave, not one of those children was her.

How long had it been?

Why hadn’t I been paying attention?

Those nights were warm—an uncomfortable heat smothering our search.

Then—it turned cold.

They found her body days later.

And for the life of me, I can’t understand why only then, did my motherly instinct finally awaken.

I’ve questioned it. Screamed for answers.

I’ve been trapped in darkness for fifteen years. Endless time has tormented me, and yet, I still don’t know.

———

Kip

Sweat pooled beneath my back, cooling my neck and scalp until a shiver rippled through me.

My eyes snapped open. Concrete stared back. The stone box I awoke in every day offered the usual comfort—cold, but stable.

My chest felt heavy. My gut, twisted.

I’d expected those feelings. I’d come to terms with my fate long ago.

Death didn’t scare me. I’d seen it. I’d hand-delivered it too many times.

This was something different.

I lay there, brows knotted with unease, trying to clear the mental fog clouding the memory of my dream—the last I’d ever have.

I’d hoped to dream about my life before I became a monster, or maybe of the family I’d made within these walls. Hell, even scattered nonsense would’ve been gold.

But I only saw faces—innocent, stolen.

I cracked my neck, trying to bury them for a second time.

Behind the faces, though, was something else.

Its presence was a blur… a lost memory, or déjà vu. But the shift in temperature always confirmed its arrival—a chill that was tangible, biting into my skin and burrowing deep into my muscles, like frostbite on a cellular level.

I focused, trying to see it.

Those eyes—a dull burn with a precision stare. Always watching. Never cracking. They had visited me again last night.

I’d mentioned it to the chaplain yesterday. I was hesitant, unsure about giving it voice, but he listened, offered the usual spiritual comfort, and closed with our final prayer. No answers. Didn’t matter anyway.

Fear should’ve had me in a chokehold by now. Scheduled death. Nowhere to run. But that wasn’t what left me in a cold sweat. Something was waiting for me. Something beyond.

I knew I deserved Hell. I’d stripped hearts down to their rawest form, then shattered them without ever apologizing. I was ready for judgement. But that unknown—it clawed at the back of my mind.

Keys jingled, snapping my attention to the steel door. The slot opened.

“Hands,” a low voice commanded.

I rose, exhaling flatly, then slipped my hands through. Crisp metal hugged my wrists.

“Step back.”

The hinges squeaked their goodbye—a sound I’d actually miss.

Three officers waited. Two gripped my upper arms while the third wrapped a chain around my waist, linking it to the cuffs.

“Lay on your belly,” the third said.

I knelt, then flattened to the floor. Shackles locked around my ankles, denying any mad dash I might’ve planned. You’d be a fool to even try.

They lifted me to my feet, then silence became the commander.

Exiting the small cell, I took my first steps toward my demise.

___

Scarlet

I wasn’t much in life—a meager daughter, a lousy girlfriend, and an even worse mother.

After Autumn died, I went from low to negative. So inverted, it was a wonder I had a spine at all.

I couldn’t feel. Couldn’t think. Could hardly breathe.

I ached for Autumn like I’d never ached for anything.

I wanted to cheer when she rode her bike without falling. I wanted to sneak into her room at night, heart pounding with fear that she’d wake as I fumbled to play tooth fairy. I wanted to kiss her cheeks and promise her comfort when she got hurt.

I’d done those things—but I wasn’t alive when I did them. They were just steps. Obligations, because the books told me to.

And by the time I realized it… it was too late. Everything was too late.

Darkness consumed me. My failures festered in my chest. My reflection became a stranger. My own voice slid over my skin like razor blades, splitting open my wounds for the world to spit in.

I had to make it stop.

I wanted out. But I couldn’t face Autumn. I had no right to ever be in her presence again, no matter how much I longed to see those blue eyes shine once more.

So I made a decision.

I’d leave—but I’d barricade myself from her forever. I’d sell my soul to the very evil that took her.

___

Kip

Each step held weight—packed with mistakes, shame, truth. Truth was the heaviest of them all.

For years, I wanted to believe I wasn’t that heartless man anymore. I’d burned my lips raw speaking to God, asking for forgiveness, for guidance, for change.

Change came—that was forced. Guidance, too, though it hung with the false promise that I’d ever use it. But forgiveness? Despite what the chaplain claimed, it never came. Because given the chance… I’d kill again.

The analog clock on the sheen brick wall read five-thirty. Dawn was close—its fresh light just out of reach.

I’d have traded last night’s final meal of KFC just to watch the sun rise. To feel its warmth, to memorize its beauty one last time.

Instead, all I feel is the stagnant air crawling over my skin.

The rhythmic rattle of the chains and keys gives my mind something to anchor to as my time bleeds out.

The empty hall stretches before us like a drawn-out argument—the kind you cannot win no matter how much breath you waste.

I count my heartbeats. How many are left? What will the last number be?

We enter another section—the one you only visit once. It reeks of bleach, sweat, and despair.

The air here is different—heavy, final—I swear I can feel the last inmate’s breath on the back of my neck.

I roll my neck to shake the chill, but the hair on my arms stand up.

A voice mutters near my ear—so clear that I glance at the guard to my left. His expression hardens, but he says nothing.

We stop. The unmarked door seems to smile at me from the other side.

A badge swipe widens that smile, and I’m greeted by the fatal room: a gurney, three windows… and a woman with the same eyes that have haunted my dreams for weeks.

———

Scarlet

His eyes are like ash—remnants of the lives he’s torched. His face is withered stone. His lips, thin like a slice through flesh.

This was the last face Autumn saw.

And his hands… dirty, unjust—a reflection of my Master’s. Hands that stole a piece of God—a piece of my Heaven.

The blood in my meat suit boils. The woman I’ve stolen it from screams in agony—her voice trapped within. I squeeze her heart, just enough to silence her.

His gaze stays locked on me. I can taste his fear—metallic, with bitter notes of regret and a sour tang of resistance. The palpitations in his chest tangle with my desires, like a web of pain.

He doesn’t move. The officers beside him give a shove, forcing him forward; he’s forgotten why he’s here. I almost laugh.

Stepping aside, I give them space to trap him. His breathing has changed, on the verge of panic.

As I walk to the other side of the small room, I pause. I look at my reflection in the mirrored glass. My meat suit is pretty: green eyes, hair like raven glass, the face of a model. Nothing like my former self. I lift my chin and settle in a little deeper.

Beyond the glass, the victims’ families wait. I scan the room and spot Ray. His face is empty—the life has long left him. The others are the same, some already weeping.

A few stare at me with a question in their eyes. Ray is one of them. Can he feel me? Is there any part of me left behind?

A twinge of guilt hits me. Should I have stayed?

No.

This was something I could give Autumn. Justice. Revenge by my hand.

The struggle behind me settles. I turn away.

Kip is ready. I swallow my smile.

I step up to him. Our eyes stab into one another.

My smile slips, a playful tug at the corner of my lips. His pupils dilate, and the color drains from his face.

I collect the IV line from the small steel table, and peel back the plastic to reveal the needle. It glints in the light. I take my time. His eyes strain to see; the strap across his forehead holds him solid.

I wipe his skin with an alcohol pad and whisper, “Do you know who I am, Kip?”

He doesn’t answer. His voice stumbles over his pulsing heartbeat.

I stick his skin. Blood pools in his inner elbow—I’ve missed the mark. Doesn’t matter. I tape it down and rise.

The officers leave. I should too.

The mic crackles above. “Please clear the room for the inmate’s final statement.”

My eyes stay locked on him. “Yeah, Kip,” the words slip through my stretched smile, “any last words?”

My voice carries into the viewing room. Murmurs and hushed questions respond. The official commands me to leave again, but the audio spikes and cuts out.

Kip’s chest heaves like it might abandon him. He stammers, “She’s not… you’re not…”

I tilt my head. “I’m not what?”

“Human…”

I chuckle. “Neither are you.” I slip the needle from his arm. A single drop of blood falls. “Let me take you home.”

Gasps flare from the speaker. Officers are at the door, but I’ve locked it. The doorknob rattles; keys fumble uselessly.

Kip jerks against his restraints. The woman I share the meat suit with wails, begging me for mercy. I smile and deny them both. My skin splits, tearing open to birth my true form.

Screams spark through the audio—shrill, panicked.

Kip’s frantic. “Get me out of here!”

I laugh, my voice dropping an octave so low, my Master hears it and cackles.

I extend my skeletal hand and grip his face. “Kip. My name is Scarlet Voss. Autumn was mine.” His eyes widen. I shake my head. “She was mine, and you took her.”

The lights strobe. The windows shatter. My bones crack, splintering through the flesh.

“Somebody help me!” he cries.

I turn. Chaos reigns in the waiting room. Everyone flees—except Ray. He’s frozen, eyes locked onto me. I can’t help but smile.

I look back at Kip. “Don’t worry, Kip. I’m going to take you to a place where everyone’s like you. Evil. Cruel.” I inch my hand toward his chest. “But here’s the catch…”

The lights stop flickering. The speaker dies. The room is empty.

I lean in. “You’re the victim.”

He inhales for a final scream. I slip my hand through his chest, grip his heart, and shatter it—just like he did mine.