When he closes his eyes, Lincoln Burrows sees a chair
There's only so much you can take from a man: his pride, his rights, his freedom, his family, the person he loves.
When a man is deprived of all those things, is he still a man? Is he still human?
Lincoln Burrows thinks about it at night and wonders when a man destined to die cease to be. Is it when he casts his last breath or is it sooner, when he's sentenced to death, or sooner still when he sees his last ray of sunlight? Maybe you die the exact minute you start questioning your life.
Lincoln Burrows might just be dead already.
His body remains nonetheless, so maybe he's alive. Who cares at this point? Dead, alive, what difference does it make? If not today, soon he'll disappear.
Men are not supposed to die like this. Human being die of natural causes, of broken hearts, of lethal diseases, sometimes they die under fire, fighting for a cause, any cause, good or bad. People don't die on chairs, it is absurd.
In his sleep, Lincoln Burrows sees chairs. He's playing with kids. A stereo in the corner of the room plays soft music. Every now and then, the music stops, then everybody takes a seat. Every time the music starts again, a chair is taken away. Lincoln is good at games. In the end, there's only him on a single chair, and there is silence. There's no music anymore, there's nobody to take away the chair and Lincoln's left alone, waiting, waiting to get away.
In his cold cell, Lincoln Burrows thought several times about quitting the game. He's so scared, alone in this damp room, waiting for something to happen. But he can't, no he can't quit the game, he's no longer master of his own life.
That's not what they want, his death. What they want is his pride. They don't want to make his heart stop beating, they want to destroy him. There's no dignity in death, especially not when you've been arranged to die in front of an audience.
Maybe, maybe that's what death is, the loss of control over your own destiny.
Lincoln Burrows might be dead already.
Some days Lincoln believes in God, some other days he doesn't. He never feels better anyway. If God exists, then he'll go to Hell, but it's okay, he already knows hell.
Sometimes when he's tired of thinking about death, Lincoln tries to recall all the mistakes he's done, and then he thinks about how he could have avoided making them. That's when he realises how easy it would have been to make the right decisions. He's not even able to cry.
Sometimes he thinks about how he's been set up and he can't even be angry anymore.
Maybe that's what death is, being drained of all emotions.
In his mind, there's only him and a chair. The only thing he wishes is for his mind to shut down. The only thing he wants is to never see the chair again. If the damned piece of furniture won't move, then he would go.
Lincoln Burrows might be dead already.