Condemnation or Salvation?
When they first sent me here I believed that I deserved it. Or at least I tried to make myself believe that. But sometimes I can't help but wonder if this is really fair, was this the way my life was meant to go? I've spent almost as much time in jail as I have out side; I've not seen life through anything but metal bars and handcuffs since I was 14 years old. That's why I don't think I truly deserve this wicked fate, if mom hadn't overdosed when I was 6, if the foster homes me and Lill had been shipped too and from hadn't have been so bad… Then maybe I'd be somewhere else right now.
I only got sent away for shoplifting, it wasn't anything much either. Bread-cakes mostly, for me and Lill when we were starving, as I said, if we'd been allocated decent foster parents, then I would have never had to steal at all. There was no badness in that right? And it wasn't as though shoplifting was the first step, we tried to get money first. I was too young to get a job and nobody would give Lill work, not with our surname. Nobody wanted to know a Bayliss, not after what Tim did.
That was another factor in this chain which makes me think that this isn't right, how me and Lill and mom had to deal with the consequences of Tim's actions. Maybe he really was bad, he must have been to beat that cop to death for no reason. Yet he got away with it on some minor detail and left the state; that was before mom went on the dope, I can't even remember that far back but I know that once that had happened things changed.
People would cross the street when they saw us coming, mom lost her few friends and started up on the drugs. She didn't have a job to lose, but the dole money went straight onto her supplies. Lill once told me how she had turned into a waste of space really, before she took too much one night and died. I'd like to say she didn't deserve what she got, but she did. She should have never started up with the drugs, she should have left town with me and Lill and started over; then none of this would have happened.
If our fathers had stuck around then maybe mom would have been able to cope with the pain of Tim. Maybe Timmy would have never gone off the rails in the first place, if his father had been there. Lill and Timmy had the same dad, he left just after Lill was born, not fond of having one child, two was enough to push him over the edge. Lill told me she couldn't remember her dad, but she could remember mine. He and my mom hooked up one night and she got pregnant. Simple as that. He stuck around through the pregnancy, gave her some money and then split once I had arrived. I guess he thought it was the honourable way to do it, get her through it, give her cash then leave.
Who knows if he made the right decision, I don't. I never met him and that's the best way for it to be as far as I'm concerned. When I was a kid I used to wonder if he ever thought about me. When I was sent to jouvie I thought about him, that first night. I felt like shit, looked like shit, some older Mexicans had beat the crap out of me. I was upset, scared and lonely. For a brief second I wondered if he would come and bail me out of the mess I had created, help me out, give me some cash and leave; just like he did with mom. But he didn't, and the hope of him doing so left shortly after.
Lill was seventeen and a half when I was sent to jouvie, if I had been able to stay out of trouble for those seven months things would have gone smoothly. I would have been released in her custody when I was finished with that place. Then we could leave town, run away, correct the mistakes our mom made a long time ago. We could start a fresh in a place where nobody looked down on us for our murderous brother or absent parents. Maybe we would have changed our names, I thought about that a lot too. Not just my surname, no, I'd change it all, make it a complete new start. We could have both got jobs and made some money then I would never have to steal food to eat again.
Some dream. That's all it was, and I wonder that if things had gone to plan in jouvie, would it have actually pulled off? It doesn't matter if it would have, because it didn't. All because of those God damn Mexicans. After I recovered from my welcoming from them I stayed on my own, kept my head down and made sure I wasn't noticed. Some of the people who worked there knew, or thought they knew, that I was a bad kid, due to my brothers actions. But they never did anything about it, they would sneer and glare but that was it, I could handle that. I was stupid enough to think that they understood that that was my brother not me. I hoped people would give me a chance for being me, but they didn't. All it took was a glance in my file and they thought they knew me, thought I was a criminal. For stealing food! And did anybody stop to ask themselves why I had done so, no.
The social workers never looked into mine and Lill's homes very often, and when this mess had started they were only too happy to let the law handle the situation. They thought it was best, but they just didn't have the guts to own up to there mistakes.
Once again my fate was down to Timmy, if he hadn't give us all such a terrible reputation I may have gotten off easily. But the judge knew who I was, he made that perfectly clear. I think the only reason he sent me away was to try and justify my brothers crimes. I used to laugh to myself at him, years later, how feeble of him to think he could justify one mans action by punishing another - it didn't change anything. But now… its different now. Knowing you are going to be executed by the government in a few hours time, its messes with my mind. But it has also illustrated things to me more clearly than ever before. Until now I'd laughed at that judge; now I can see him mocking me. He'll watch the news tonight from some posh house and smile to himself in satisfaction. Has he justified the police mans death? My brother got away with his crime, but I'll be killed in his place.
It's not true really, I'm being killed for the murder of the prison guard, amongst others. None of it would have happened if it wasn't for those Mexicans. When they started on me I didn't fight back, I thought the guards would see my innocence through this. But they didn't, they didn't care that some kid was getting the life kicked from him just down the hallway. That made me mad, the same way Tim had gotten mad, and I fought back. I fought harder that night than ever before, or after for that matter. When I came too days later I was in some sort of hospital. The guards had finally come and split up the fight, to see one of the older boys laid there chocking, I'd smashed his windpipe with my foot as I'd savagely fought back. I was already in a terrible condition but the guards made it worse, letting out there anger on me, knowing this would have been reverted if there jobs had been done properly, just like the social workers. Once again I paid the consequences for something which wasn't completely my fault.
It went down in my file as murder. The guards claimed I provoked the Mexicans into fighting me, so I could hurt them. It was illogical really, who would willingly pick a fight with six people bigger and older and more experienced in fighting than themselves? I tried to protest against it but how could I? The place made sure I was kept in the dark about my options, and it wasn't as though I could ask Lill for a lawyer. After that incident she finally left town. She couldn't take the pain of everybody knowing how both of her brothers were killers. A vicious killer was how they had described me in the hearing. It was then I realised for sure the dream of leaving with Lill would forever be a dream, and I was pushed further into the system of jail and death.
The years from that point onwards are a blur, and as the years passed I began to tell myself I deserved all I was getting. I killed that man, and I killed more. All in similar situations with similar outcomes, more time in stricter, more secured prisons. No more hope of sister or the long lost father, that was for sure.
I did have some dreams though, as pathetic as they were. I used to dream of the afterlife, knowing that God would know I was innocent. Maybe he will understand that I didn't mean for any of this to happen. If I hadn't had to steal for survival I wouldn't be here. If I hadn't had to kill for survival, I would be far away from here. But I did, and despite knowing I wasn't entirely to fault, I began to think that I deserved this sad excuse for a life. I killed people, I should be punished. I drilled the mantra into my head for weeks trying to shut out the voice in my mind telling myself it wasn't true. Eventually it stuck, people who kill are to be punished. I killed, I would be punished.
The bible speaks of revenge, 'eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth.' I never really expected to end up in this situation before I killed the guard. But that I do deserve. I reacted out of anger, the animal created from a lifetime behind bars had built up and was finally released, it attacked. I killed an innocent guard and I have had to live with that. For the first time in over 10 years I realised that I truly was deserving of my punishment. Of course I once told myself that if the prisoner, whoever it was, hadn't broken my jaw I wouldn't have done what I did. But it doesn't work this time, the pushing away of the guilt. I could explain away the theft, the Mexican, all of the deaths… but this one was real to me. The only reason the poor kid was dead was because of my need to give somebody a taste of the pain I had been subjected to.
That's why I'm here now, waiting for my death. As I wait I try to find peace, telling myself that God will punish me for my actions, but reward me too; for putting up with the rough ride he has given me through this life. I'll be just like Lazarus risen from the dead, only this time I'll be in a new world; maybe he will grant me my freedom this time.
When I last saw Lill I laughed at her words as she spoke about the bible, I wanted her to know that those words meant nothing to me. I don't know why I did so, she knows just as well as I do that we share, or used to share, the same views on our religion. But I laughed at her anyway, maybe it was because I knew I wont be granted God's forgiveness, its too late for that now I'm sure. I can still hope though, I just don't want anybody to know what it is that I'm hoping for.
Johns Gospel says that believing in Him will grant us salvation and eternal life. Right now, and in the other world. I don't believe him, I believe but am still punished, why? He says that those who see darkness rather than light will be judged at the end of time, I guess this is the moment where I shall step up to be judged. My actions will provoke his condemnation. Or my faith will grant me safety from his wrath. I don't know which it shall be, I've studied those religious texts in here, never shutting a book with a straight answer; just more questions.
Maybe He helped me by sending Fred to my row. Christ knows how many times the man has helped me, and at what cost to himself? He risked his job for me, despite my constant challenge to him, just waiting for him to turn like all the others. I used to think they were all the same until Fred came. But he was different. He made me feel human, not like some filth waiting to be taken out to the trash. Despite his role of authority over me he made me feel decent, he treated me with respect. For the first time in my life somebody spoke to me with respect, the same man who will lead me to my death in little over a few hours time. I know that despite the way he treats me he disagrees with my actions, I hope one day he takes a more accurate look into my life, instead of the 'facts' my file states. After everything he did for me, I want to give him something in return. If he sees I'm not all bad, not evil or heartless like my inmates, that's enough for me. Something tells me it would be enough for him too, if he doesn't know that already.
They took me to the shower block earlier, shaved my hair off completely. It wont be long now, until the purpose for that is introduced. I wonder how it will feel, strapped into the chair with thousands of volts of electricity running through my body. Science tells me it will hurt, more than anything ever experienced before. But how long will it last? It doesn't matter, although disappointed my life be lived and ended in such a way, I'm eager to see what is waiting for me in the next life. Salvation or condemnation, I hope it will be lived better than this one. Maybe I'll be given a chance to prove myself and earn his forgiveness.
The clock is ticking slowly, ticking away the minutes before they take me to my death. It's been so long since I last herd a clock, they don't have them in the cells. I'd expect the sound, the constant ticking to sound strange and aggravate me. Instead it comforts me, I don't think it is supposed to though.
Fred is staring at the wall, he hasn't spoken to me since his revelation about his father. There's nothing I could say to make him feel better so I have said nothing at all. Friends know when to stay silent, and for the first time in my life I know I have a friend. The door is open now, men wearing expensive looking suits are speaking, watching me carefully so I don't try anything. I wonder what its like to wear a suit, a proper one, or a tie even? I rub the back of my bare head silently as they walk me along the long corridor, Fred right behind me. It reminds me of my very first night in this system, at jouvie. They shaved my head then too. The cycle is complete now.
Lionel is watching me, he can barely suppress the smile on his face. I don't care, I'm smiling inside too, knowing I will never have to put up with him again, he has no power or influence over me now. I feel the glimmer of fear flicker across my face as I see the chair, this is it, almost over. Fred looks at me sympathetically as my hands are strapped down carefully. He looks as though he could cry, I could cry too, I don't want to upset him, after the hope he has given me. I nod to him slightly, happy to see his eyes flicked back in recognition.
I relax myself as best I can before they strap my feet down. The chair is cold and hard, like the life I have lived. I close my eyes as the flap is strapped across my face, the smell of rubber infiltrates my nostrils. I take a deep breath, knowing it will be my last ever. Then I feel the fear return, its real this time, they're about to do it, its so tense and the room is silent. Suddenly the sharpness of the electricity jolts through my bones and all I know is pain. Thoughts can't function, hands and feet are clenched together as best they can be, the force of the shock sends my body bouncing in the seat. It feels continuous and never ending and despite the unrelenting white hot agony I fear that this is punishment, this is Gods condemnation for my sins.
And then there is nothing. The white light behind my eyelids is no longer due to the pain, there is no pain. There are no senses, I don't know if my hands are still clenched or not, I know nothing. Nothing other than the peace as I realise God has granted me his redemption. Finally, I am free…