I've finished with the others, the ones who were with her. The blue eyed one, the blonde girl, the cousin, the drunk one, the one in the wheelchair, even the mad one. Each time I left, my pocket was emptied of one more pill. When I get to her room, there will be only one left. The others didn't know what was happening. I slipped the pills into their food. But she'll know. They wanted it that way. So that she would finally feel fear. I don't think she will, though. After all of this, she has nothing to fear.
I reach the room that she is kept in. The guards at the door check my prime security pass and then let me in. She is sitting against the wall in the corner.
She greets me with a soft, resigned, "So they've finally decided to kill me now? On what grounds?"
"High treason." I say, studying her. She is thinner than the others, all of her bones more prominent. I doubt she has been given much food. She probably needs to bathe, but she doesn't have a shower in her prison. She doesn't even have a bed. The room is all empty white space. It's got nothing on her eyes though. So haunted, it looks like she's already died.
"How?" She doesn't seem strong enough to move, just sits in the corner looking at me like I'm the one to pity.
In answer, I hold out the pill to her. It's a deep purple color, like the color of a bruise.
"Do I get water?" She looks like she could do with some.
"Would you like some?" She nods. Since she has caused so much trouble, I'm supposed to say no. But I don't. In less than a minute, a guard is handing me a clear glass of clear water. I hold it out to her, but she doesn't take it.
"I'm not strong enough." she says. "Will you help me?"
I'm about to set the pill on her tongue when she stops me with a thin hand on my wrist. She still doesn't look scared.
"Will it hurt?" she whispers. I shake my head no. I set it on her tongue and she swallows it with the water. In moments, her breathing becomes much faster and she slips sideways on the wall until she is lying on the floor, clutching her chest. I lift her and lay her flat a few feet from the wall. I sit next to as her breathing reaches a dangerous pace.
Her hand finds me and she chokes out as best as she can, "Hold my hand. Please."
I take hold of it in both of mine, because this is the last kindness she will ever know. I stay with her until her breathing comes in gasps, then when it becomes shallow, and I'm still there, holding her hand, when it all cuts off. Her eyes slide shut and I know that she has died.
"I'm sorry." I whisper, because I am. She didn't deserve this. I set her hand on her chest and leave the room, my pocket now empty.
Someday, I'll tell my kids of this brave seventeen year old girl. How she did the right thing, even when it cost her everything. How she fought for good, even when she knew she would lose. How she never stopped fighting. How she was murdered by the side that wouldn't change, because she was willing to.
Someday I'll tell them about the girl on fire, but until that day, I'll keep her burning on.