A Mother's Thoughts
Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the movie or graphic novel, "Sin City."
Summary: Written from Marv's mom's POV as she watches her son about to be executed.
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I stand in the very back of the viewing room, hiding in the shadows. I don't want to be seen. No one knows I am here. The others in the room with me press their noses against the glass as Marv, my son, my little boy, is led into the death chamber.
Fucking vultures, that's what they are; every last one of them, with their shiny shoes and pressed suits—holding up their cameras as if they were at a goddamn zoo, snapping pictures like he was a freak at a carnival show. Bastards!
It's all I can do not to cry when they chain him to the chair that will soon take his life. I bend my head and dig my nails into my palms and try to get a hold of myself.
If Marv can be strong at this moment, so can I. But it's so damn hard for a mother to see her only child murdered by the state. Some may call it justice, but I call it murder.
He didn't kill those girls—I know he didn't. He couldn't. I didn't raise him to be a killer of women. I taught him right from wrong and never hit a woman. Ever.
He may look like a monster; at least that's what the newspapers called him when, they flashed his picture all over their covers but he's a real softie inside, once people got to know him and got past his appearance.
He only said he did those things and signed that confession to protect me. He knew Roark or one of his goons would try to get to him through me and so he lied. How do I know? He told me so during the one and only time I saw him since his arrest--and if there is one thing any mother knows, it is when her child is telling the truth and when he is lying. And my boy wasn't lying to me. He looked me straight in the eye and told me:
"Jesus Christ, Ma," he said when I asked him about the eating part. "I won't even eat hot dogs because I don't know what's in 'em! You think I'd eat a woman!"
That's when I knew he never laid a hand on those women, much less have them for dinner. I raised a good boy.
The newspapers were on the story like a pack of dogs at an overturned dumpster:
"MONSTER CANNIBAL CAUGHT!" one headline screamed.
"MAD KILLER CONFESSES!" said another.
All of it—nothing but lies, lies, lies.
I couldn't afford to send him to college, but I made damn sure he graduated from high school. I know how important a good education can be because I never finished school.
I can't count how many times I stayed up with him all night and helped him with his homework. Even if I had to be at work at 5 am, I still did it. That's what a mother does--that's what she's supposed to do.
I was on my own at the time. Marv's dad had died in an accident at the construction site where he worked and I was left with a growing child to feed. I took any job I could to put food on the table; I must've done something right, for my 'little' boy is a foot and a half taller than me and outweighs me by more than a hundred pounds at least!
Marvin may be a lot of things, but he never was a looker. Got his looks from his father— and he wasn't no cover model either, but I loved him all the same. Big and strapping he was—Marvin's dad. Ben. Like the saying goes: "all brawn, no brains." But Ben was a hard worker and when he came home at night, he always had a smile and a kiss for me and a hug for his boy.
Yup, that was my boy's father all right. Ben was stocky, barrel-chested and had shoulders as wide as the average doorframe. Not only that, he had a voice as soft as gravel in a washing machine. And Marvin turned out just like his old man. He had fists of steel and a heart of gold.
Like I said, I loved the big lug. My Ben was a strong man. There was many a time when he hoisted me over his shoulder and took me to the bedroom when he wanted to have some loving, but he was as gentle as a lamb when it came to sex and me. Matter of fact, it was me who usually initiated things in the bedroom. Our neighbours sure heard what went on between the sheets, though!
Anyways, Marvin got his looks from his dad but his smarts from me. I'm not talking book smarts--I'm talking about the stuff you can't learn from a book: street smarts.
I couldn't afford to send him to college, but I made damn sure he graduated from high school. I know how important a good education can be because I never finished school.
I can't count how many times I stayed up with him all night and helped him with his homework! Even if I had to be at work at 5 a.m., I still did it. That's what a mother does--that's what she's supposed to do. See, Marv's dad had died when he was five years old in an accident at the construction site and I was left on my own with a growing child to feed. I took any job I could to put food on the table; I must've done something right, for my 'little' boy is a foot and a half taller than me and outweighs me by more than a hundred pounds at least!
How to survive. Treat people the same as they treat you. And most importantly, never give up. See things through to the very end. He learned all that from me.
That's probably why he's here in the first place—that girl, Goldie, treated him nice and when she was murdered and when he was framed for it, Marvin didn't give up until he found the ones who killed her and made them pay.
Even with the best intentions, things can go wrong. Marvin always liked to hang out with the wrong people and he got into trouble, even sent to jail a couple of times. From there on in, it was all downhill from there. One arrest led to another and another and...
But the end is almost here and that rat bastard of a warden wants to get this over with so the boys with the cameras can have something to show on the front page of their papers tomorrow morning.
"And yea though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death…." the priest intones but Marvin interrupts him.
"Would you hurry this up? I ain't got all night," my boy says. As if he has something better to do!
That's Marvin for you--even as he is about to die, he shows them he has balls! Good for you, son. Give 'em hell!
With blood pouring from his mouth after the first charge of electricity, he doesn't give in, not even for a second.
"Is that the best you can do, you pansies?" Marv growls.
The next charge takes him and then he is gone. No one sees me leave.
The End
