I never thought I would wind up here, like this. I mean, I saw this coming for a while, but only now does it feel real. Somehow I hoped against hope that I would be rescued from this place, by an angel or something like that. I never believed in God, but I listened to the sermons my grandma would give me every now and again about the two r’s: “repent and redeem”. That was some crap that her pastor probably told her. However, I’ve started to wonder recently if there really is a god out there. Am I going to see him when the inevitable happens? Probably not. Besides, if there was a god as good as I’ve heard there is, he wouldn’t have let me be here. He wouldn’t have let dad die. He wouldn’t have let that police car pull Jaimie and I over that night. Who am I kidding? We are all alone here on earth. When we die, everyone else just gets lonelier.
I loved my dad. He wasn’t a perfect man, but he always did what he could for us. He seemed like a loving husband to my mom, and was always there for my brother Jamie and I. He took us fishing on weekends and had long conversations with us about life. I always admired his honesty. I don’t think he ever lied to us, even when we asked him things like “how are babies made?”. When Jamie wanted to be a cop just like him, Dad told him not to do it. “It’s a horrible job”, he said, “it’s thankless and the hours are hard at best”. He said there were things that he saw that he never wanted us to witness, mostly because you couldn’t unsee them. The worst was when he had to shoot criminals. He never wanted to, but at the time, he had no choice. He never had to worry about those things again after he retired. He was experiencing lots of pain at the time. We all hoped that it would be something minor, but the doctor told us otherwise. It was lung cancer. My heart dropped then and there, and I could see Mom tearing up. My dad was emotionless, which was even worse than if he had started crying. After we got home, he told me to come up to the attic with him for a talk. I wondered why we would talk in the attic of all places, but once I got up there, I saw my dad holding a box out to me. He told me that it was his first pistol, and that he wanted me to have it. He wasn’t going to give it to me until I was older, but it seemed now that he had no choice. I hugged him and told him that I would take care of it and always make him proud. For the first time that day, I saw a flash of a tear in his eye. He thought he had a few years left with his disease, but six months later, he lost the battle.
Jaimie and I were a mess. For the first week, we hardly ate or slept. We would hold each other and cry. I had rarely seen Jaimie cry in his twenty five years, until that week. I think my older brother made up for all the tears he held in his life in that week. We stayed in the house almost all the time. Mom hardly spoke, but then who could blame her? I had to leave the house because I was still in school. I was a senior at the time. The days were slow and the hours ticked by the speed of an animal with a broken leg. When you lose someone, your mind takes the longest time to adjust. When I would get the rare good grade, I would want to tell Dad, but then it would hit me: I couldn’t. It’s almost like when you keep writing the wrong date on documents after the new year. When you realize the mistake, you feel stupid, but you can’t do anything about the tricks your mind plays on you.
Two months after Dad died, Jaimie got a call from one of his high school buddies. He wanted us to come and hang out at his place. Jaimie said no at first, but his friend Marcus was persistent. His argument was that we would go nuts if we didn’t get out of the house. So that night, Jamie drove over to his house with me riding shotgun. We pulled up to the poor looking apartment building with visions of catching up with an old friend. At first, those visions came true. We compared stories of picking up girls and of the fights around the neighborhood over cold beers. As the night went on, Marcus said that he was sorry for our loss and that he knew a way for us to feel better. He pulled out a bong, lit it, and took a drag. His pupils dilated and told us to try it. He handed it to me and told me to take an honorary inhale. I was hesitant at first, but the pain for wanting my dad was so intense that I was willing to try anything. I took the bong and took a long, deep, drag. I coughed; how could people like this stuff? A minute later, I understood; my body went numb, and I felt relaxed, more than I had in what felt like ages. As Jamie took a puff, I asked Marcus where I could get more of that stuff. When he told me, the real trouble began.
For the next couple weeks, I was a bonafide marijuana addict. I did anything I could to get my next high. When I was high, I just felt better. I thought of happier times with my friends and my family. Of course, Mom never found out about our addiction. It would have broken her already fragile heart. Jaimie and I usually went over to Marcus’s place to smoke, or we went to people’s houses if they were also buying from our dealer. One night, me Jamie, and one of our new “pot buddies”, Shane, were driving home from one of the backstreets in town where we got two pounds of weed to have an all out smoke-fest. I was ready to relax with my friends, chill out, it was gonna be great. We were driving down Church Street in the dead of the night blasting classic rock on Jamie's stereo. “Piano Man” never sounded so good as when we sang it. Then out of nowhere, the cop car came into view. We held our breath mid-song, hoping the cop wouldn’t notice us, but we were the only car on the street, so there was no way we could be invisible to him. We drove past the car, and we sighed breaths of relief, but how short lived that relief was! That same car was following us, with the flashing lights on, signaling us to pull over. We were officially screwed. We pulled over and Jaimie opened the window, cringing. The cop walked over and gave us a look that could turn the seas to stone. I felt the side of my jacket for my pistol. It always made me think of dad and feel safe. He asked us what we were doing out this late at night, while sticking his head in the window, and Jaimie told him we were just cruising around. There was hope! Then the cop asked us to get out of the car. I almost had to laugh at myself for thinking this wasn’t coming. Of course, the cop found the pot in the backseat under the chairs and told us that we were under arrest. Damn it, that’s when we knew we were done for. Shane was the first to be told to get in the police car. When he resisted, it turned into an all-out wrestling match. In desperation, Jaimie saw the opportunity to go back to the car and get the weed. Maybe we could escape. By the time he got it, it was too late. The cop had thrown Shane into the car and had his gun pointed at Jaimie. No. No. No no no no no!!!! I already lost my dad and I wasn’t going to lose Jaimie too! I pulled out my pistol, aimed, and fired. It was probably the most accurate shot I had ever fired. The three of us were dumbstruck. I couldn’t move. I could hardly believe what just happened, Jaimie and Shane were staring at me, their jaws dropped. I ran over to my brother and hugged him harder than I had in my whole life. He gripped me just as tight, stroking my hair and telling me that everything was going to be all right. It wasn’t long before other police cars pulled up to take us all away. When we were brought to court, Mom wouldn’t even make eye contact with me.
I was in prison for three years before it was made official that I was to receive the death penalty. I’ve been living on death row for a while now and honestly, it sucks. Any day could be my last, and sometimes I just want it all to be over. I haven’t seen my mom in forever, and I miss her. I found out that today is the day, and now I don’t want it to be over. I want to live! I want to go to college, actually try in school, maybe get a steady girlfriend, something! The warden is coming. He tells me to follow him, so I exit my cell and follow him down the endless hallway. My handcuffs jingling as I walk, I can’t help thinking that this will be one of the last sounds that I am going to hear in my life. I saw Jaimie earlier today, for a visit. We embraced and talked for the first time in years. He was getting ready to turn thirty in a year, and he had a chance of getting out for good behavior. He was going to live, and I hoped that he would have an excellent life. He said that he would live life to the fullest for me and Dad, and that made us both start to cry. The last things he hold me were to go out like a man and not a boy, and most importantly, that he loves me. Then our time was up. Go out like a man. Make Dad proud. Go out like a man. Make Jaimie proud. Jingle, Jingle ,Jingle. As we near the chamber, I see witnesses filing into the chamber. I could almost swear I just saw Mom. There it is, the chamber. The warden opens the door for me, and he first thing that I see is the gurney. That’s where it’s going to happen, I guess. The warden tells me to hop up onto the gurney, as if I feel like hopping right now. I pull myself onto the gurney, and there are four men standing around me, each assigned to strap down one of limbs. I wasn’t going to escape anyway, I’ve accepted my fate by now. They pull the straps a little too tight, but complaining isn't going to do me any good. Go out like a man. Then Pastor Tim walks in. He has been my only friend for the past couple of months. He has tried to get me to believe in God, but even though I’m still skeptical, he’s still nice to me. He comes up to me and holds my hand tight. “Don’t worry, son,” he says, “The Lord knows your heart”. I close my eyes tight as I get hooked up to a saline solution pump. I’ve never liked needles, never. “Thanks for everything, Tim”, I say. He grips my hand tighter and I see a tear forming in his eye. He understood me, and that meant everything. The excecutioner comes near with the injection, and I cringe. This is it, no it can’t be, but it is. I can feel my heart rate skyrocketing, but I stay deathly still. Pastor Tim pats my hand and steps back from me. I only blink when the needle goes into my arm, but I am terrified. Breathe in, breathe out. It’ll be ok. Breathe in, breathe out. Maybe it won’t work and I can have an extra day. Breathe in, breathe out. Am I going to Hell? If so, I guess Jaimie will be there too eventually. Breathe in, breathe out. At least I will see my brother again. Breathe in, breathe out. I’m really tired. Am I supposed to feel this way? Breathe in, breathe out………..Breathe in,………breathe out…………….breathe in,……….breathe out…………..breathe in………………………………………….