Hanging

My feet trudged slowly down the beat path. One in front of the other, walking resignedly toward my demise. Rotten vegetables pelted me every so often, one putrid cabbage hitting me full in the face. I shook my head with an indignant sneer.

The guard’s hand was gripping my elbow so tightly I couldn’t feel my fingers. He had a look of utmost triumph on his face. Grinning down at me, he mumbled about justice finally being served.

“You think this justice?” I asked in out rage. Justice doesn’t exist. How many innocent people have face the gallows before me? How many people have been sacrificed for another’s foul mistake?

The guard grinned satisfactorily. I spat at his feet, causing him to jump backwards and let go of my arm.

I took my chance, punching him square in the nose. A yell of pain and fury greeted my ears as I tried to push my way through the sniveling crowd. They parted as though I had some kind of sick disease, leaving me to run through them. Looking back I saw the guard and one of his fellows on my heels. I quickened, thinking they’d never catch me.

Out of nowhere a dark figure moved in my way so fast I ran into it. I thick hand closed around my throat and pulled me clean off the ground. I sputtered, glaring at the broad figure of my father.

He handed me back to the guards without a word, a sickly satisfied smile gracing his repulsive face.

“Thank you my Lord,” the guard said, clasping my hands behind my back and forcing me back toward the raised platform.

I struggled, but to no avail. They fixed the coarse rope tightly around my neck, shoving me forwards.

A vicar had started preaching. His words rang through the now silent crowd.

I gulped down tears. For the first time I was scared. Up until now, escape had still been possible.

My father’s brown eyes looked up from the crowd with sick satisfaction. It had been his fault. He was the one with the blade in his hands, he had thrust it into my mother’s chest, whispering manically as blood ran over his hands. I had watched, horrified from a corner. When she’d fallen, I ran toward her, trying to stop the blood that seeped into my clothes. He threw the knife at my feet and disappeared. When he returned the guards were with him. They had to drag me off my mother, into the carriage and through the dungeon door.

Drums sounded behind me. The air was thick with catcalls and jeering. I felt the rope constrict, felt coarseness rip at my skin as my feet left the ground, I felt the break and heard the crack as my eyes rolled and the wind carried me away.