James was left in a white room, barely long enough to lie down in, granted he was tall, but even a short person would have trouble, James tried lying down corner to corner, it worked. Lying down he could see a timer, it was counting down from forty-eight hours. James decided not to fight fate, inside the room, there was a small data pad, James picked it up, there was a keyboard on it, like the ones you find on old phones, only bigger. He started typing; only a few were worth rereading
Hour one
I wish I'd never listened to Tommy, he got me in this mess, I hope he strangles on the rope, or that the firing squad hits him in the throat. I just hope he suffers. That is if he's still alive, which a doubt, he's probably already in hell, swinging back a pint with Satan, a father son moment per say.
Hour ten
Got some food, it was ok I guess, figure they want us to be heavy so the rope gets us on the first try. Thinking back that guard probably just said get a life sentence just to keep me clinging to that glimmer of hope.
Hour twenty
I want to say sorry to mom, she never did anything wrong, all she did was be herself, and now I killed her, I hope I suffer for what I did.
Hour thirty nine
Times almost up, I've counted half the grains of sand in the concrete, I'm starting to lose it, and I hope I don't look like a moron when I die.
Hour forty six
Exactly two hours, 120 minutes, seven thousand and two hundred seconds until I'm fucked, until I final get some peace, until I get to have my life examined like a piece of meat at a market by some angle, why does god only except those who devote their lives to him, why is he so mad at everyone else, because for all that unconditional love crap, heaven seems pretty VIP to me. Maybe I should start praying. I'll do that. That guard probably forgot about me already. Like everyone else I ever knew.