Tom's Last Day

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Tom's Last Day

Post by PiEdude on Sun Sep 12, 2010 11:34 am

It was the perfect Sunday morning. The halls and corridors of the penitentiary were silent. If the cell had windows, warm sunlight would just be creeping in, and birds would be heard singing their songs.

It was not warm, however. There were no birds, and the only light came from the naked bulbs in the area outside the bars. After a moment, he opened his eyes. Prisoner number 00086124, Thomas Miller, slowly moved himself up from his cot. He rubbed his eyes, and looked around his small cell.

The bars were the first thing he saw, as usual, followed by the bleak gray wall, and then his personal toilet. There were bits of uneaten food from the night before scattered about the floor. He yawned for a long time. This had been his entire life for the past five years.

Aside from the occasional appeals he was required to attend, he rarely left his cell. His meals were brought to him, and he was never allowed amongst the general population, supposedly for his safety as well as theirs. The few times he had left were when he contracted an illness, and he was taken to the infirmary.

But that was all about to change.

"Miller." Tom hadn't even heard the guard approach. He stood with his keys, and another stood a little further back. Tom knew at least two more were somewhere beyond the bars, completely out of his view. The one who'd called his name had a face that could've been chiseled from bedrock, both in its stiffness and lack of soft features. The other guard seemed less solid.

The first guard needed to say no more. He unlocked the cell door, and two more carefully walked Tom out, trying their damnedest to avoid handling him. As they walked down the halls, the two guards Tom hadn't seen avoided eye contact, as well as the second one.

The five men reached the end of their walk at a bland, metal door. The stone-faced one moved ahead to open it, and the rest quickly walked through. The first thing Tom saw was a man dressed completely in white. He mentally deemed him "Nurse", and smiled at his own personal humor.

Tom gave no resistance when he was laid down, and strapped to a small metal table. The "Nurse" grabbed something from a counter nearby. Other men in white were handling knobs and dials near a tube of several liquids. He thought for a moment. It didn't matter what he might say, or do, or even what he'd done to get here in the first place. These men would feel sympathy for anyone else, but not him.

He was well past that.

The man in white was actually humming as he worked. "Ground Control to Major Tom", no less. It was plain to see that he could care less. If anything, he was more sadistic and cruel than all the other men in this room perceived Tom to be. Of course, then again, could you blame him? After all, any man would have to take some joy in killing a monster.

The man walked over to Tom, holding three needles. He took one, and squeezed the plunger to allow some liquid out. "Nurse" inserted the first needle, and all Tom heard as he lost conciousness was the man telling him, with a slight grin, "This won't hurt a bit."
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PiEdude
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