Death

by C. M. Radcliff

  He freezes and a panicked expression falls over his face. I can feel his unease radiating through the air. It’s too late for me to back-peddle now, so all I can do is push forward.

  “A human being, the human mind can only take so much before any rational thoughts and reactions are null and void. You surpassed what someone can withstand, by far. You were a teenager, with hormones and emotional turmoil already. All teens are irrational and illogical at some point, but all of those factors coupled with your environment and outside influences is a recipe for disaster.”

  He grows more relaxed, listening to the words that flow from my lips. I watch as his mind stores every last word.

  “You reacted in the only way that your mind saw fit. It was your way of fighting back, of regaining control over your life.”

  “But I lost all control over my life,” he interjects quietly.

  “Did you though?” I retort, having no idea where this conversation is going.

  He looks at me thoughtfully, but simply shrugs. “What happened, happened and this is where I’m at now.”

  “Don’t be so dismissive,” I scold him. “What happened does not define who you are, and you need to know that.”

  He needs peace.

  “I forgive you for what you did. I forgive you for what those families endured.”

  His eyes grow wide and his breathing falters.

  “Curtis, you have to forgive yourself and be at peace with it,” I tell him gently. “Leave the past where it belongs… in the past.”

  Curtis’ eyes don’t leave mine. They’re a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty. He’s not sure if he can trust me or if I’m feeding him a buffet of lies.

  He stays silent and I know our conversation is over, my time with him is up.

  I give him a small smile and rise from my seat. “Give yourself the peace that you deserve,” I tell him quietly and slowly walk to the door. I knock on the small window and the officer pokes his head up and nods before unlocking the door.

  “Christine,” Curtis calls out as the door in front of me opens. Turning around, I find him watching me with tender eyes. “Thank you.”

  Swallowing over the lump forming in my throat, I give him a small nod, leaving the rest of our words unspoken.

  He knows what he needs to do and so do I.

  “Goodbye, Curtis,” I whisper and slip into the hallway. The walk to the main lobby is a blur and I collect my belongings and ID from the woman at the desk in a robotic manner.

  The cool air whips across my face as I step outside and hurry down the steps. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I slowly turn around to face the prison, towering above.

  In death, we all need someone, just as much as we do in life.

  I’ll be back, Curtis. I will be there with you when death calls.

  chapter thirty

  PRESENT

  Curtis

  Today is the day that everyone has been waiting for. After spending more than twenty years behind bars, I’ve been ready for this life to be over.

  I can only hope that life after death is better than this.

  In a way, the judicial system is giving me an easy way out. The families that I’ve destroyed will all get their justice for their loved ones that I put in the ground. When you really think about it, serving a life sentence rather than being sentenced to death would be far worse.

  When they strap me to the table and give me that lethal injection, everything will be over. It will finally be done, and everyone can move on in peace, even myself.

  If they thought about this from where I’m standing, the death penalty would have never been on the table.

  Something within the human mind and morality tells us that killing another person like a fucking animal is acceptable, that it isn’t just as barbaric. Some crimes call for death and some monsters have become animals, but some of us simply had a moment of poor judgment.

  When all hope is lost, sometimes the only way up is down.

  But sometimes when you go down, there is no coming up.

  I was hopeless and lost and I made a decision that day that ruined so many lives. I was tired of hurting, so I made them hurt.

  At the end of the day, I will get what some feel I deserve, but even death is above me. I deserve to sit here and rot, reliving the past every single day.

  After spending the morning alone, I was brought my last meal around noon. Home cooked meals weren’t something I grew up with, so I had requested a full breakfast instead.

  Yesterday, the warden had explained the chain of events for today and so far they have been on time with everything. Before my meal, I was allowed visitation with family and my lawyer.

  I have neither. The only family I have left is Carson and he lives in a long term care facility and I haven’t seen him since that night. I’m more of a stranger to him now than I am a brother.

  When I was first arrested and then charged, I had a public defender. I couldn’t afford a lawyer back then and I sure as hell couldn’t now. Which now leaves me with no lawyer. The public defender that was assigned my case was disbarred for a hit and run coupled with a vehicular manslaughter charge. Turns out he was driving drunk and hit and killed someone riding their bike.

  Just my luck.

  That left me with no one who would want to visit with me today. The only people who will want to see me today will be the ones on the other side of the glass, watching me take my last breath.

  Our system is completely fucked, but I learned that at a young age when it failed me as a child. I used to wonder what my life would have been like if it hadn’t failed me. I know I wouldn’t be sitting in a cell with the death sentence stamped on my forehead.

  These weren’t thoughts that I entertained often anymore. It was senseless.

  I was still a mass murderer and I was still going to be executed.

  After my talk with the warden yesterday, I did have an unexpected visitor.

  Christine.

  I hadn’t anticipated seeing her after the conclusion of our interview, so it had been nice to talk with her, one last time, off the record.

  Her visit confused me, but in a sense, it gave me some sort of hope. She had no ties or obligations to me, other than our interview, yet she came. Her words of comfort wrapped around me like a warm blanket.

  They wouldn’t protect me from the needle, but they brought me peace and I will take it with me when I go.

  “Matthews,” the warden calls from outside of my cell as he opens the door. “It’s time for you to get showered and changed.”

  Rising to my feet, I nod as I walk toward him with my arms extended. He had informed me this was part of the process.

  That must mean it’s around five o’clock now.

  I’ll be gone within the hour.

  He secures the cuffs around my wrists as one of the officers tightens my shackles. The warden runs the piece of chain through and secures all my restraints in place, following standard protocol. Stepping back, he gives me a sad smile and nods to the officer at my side. “I’ll see you in a little bit, Matthews.”

  “Come on,” the officer says gruffly and lightly pulls on my elbow.

  I let him lead me to the bathroom where I’m unshackled and able to strip out of my clothes and shower freely. It’s the little luxuries like this that allow us the opportunity to feel human.

  The bathroom isn’t anything fancy by any means, but it beats the showers deeper inside the prison. The water’s hot and rains down over me with a steady pressure. I’m lost in the steam as it fills the room and the feel of the water cleansing my body and soul, washing away my sins.

  There may not be a Heaven for people like me, but everyone deserves forgiveness and that’s all I can hope for.

  I was once hopeless, but now as I prepare to look death in the face, hope is all I have.

  I scrub my body until it is as clean as it will get and savor the last of the hot water. As I shut off the water, the officer pops back into the room, armed with my c
lothing.

  “I’ll be back in five minutes, so be dressed,” he commands with a voice of indifference. He doesn’t know me, I don’t know him. He knows the crimes I’ve committed and has every right to treat me like shit, just like the rest of the officers, but it’s different here. They were respectful and indifferent in a kind manner. A certain level of dignity and humanity was granted down here, in one’s final hours before death.

  It was foreign and strange, but it allowed a sliver of light to shine through onto one of my darkest days.

  I had darker days than this. My demise was shining brightly in the horizon, drawing me closer to the light.

  I dry off quickly and pull on my fresh clothes; a plain white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Prisoners are allowed to choose their clothing that they wear for their execution and I haven’t had the opportunity to wear street clothes in decades.

  The officer pulls open the door just as I slide my feet into my sandals. He holds out his hands, holding the handcuffs and motions for me to come over with his head. Standing up, I walk to him on steady feet and with a clear mind.

  My fate has been sealed and I’ve reached the point of acceptance.

  He avoids my eyes as he tightens the handcuffs around my wrists. “Don’t pull any shit,” he warns lightly. I cock my head to the side, staring down at him, but I stay silent and follow behind him to my final holding cell.

  It’s a short walk from the bathroom and he takes off my cuffs inside the cell. “It won’t be long now,” he says, walking back out the door. “After they’re finished setting up, the warden will get you.”

  He leaves the room without another word or a second glance, as I sit down on the edge of the bed, leaving me alone in heavy silence. I don’t need the time to think and I’m ready for this to be over. The day passed quickly, but it was time.

  I needed it to be time.

  The lock clicked and I turned my head to look as the door was pulled open. “Curtis,” the warden spoke, standing in the doorway. “It’s time.”

  With a curt nod, I rise to my feet and instinctively extend my arms. He looks down at my hands and gives me a small smile as he shakes his head.

  “You get to walk freely, remember?” he asks, reminding me of our talk about my execution. All prisoners, unless deemed to be a threat, are allowed to walk unrestrained to the execution chamber.

  Dropping my hands to my side, I nod again and follow him out of the cell. It’s a short walk to the chamber, but it provides the illusion of freedom. I’ve had every right stripped from me, except for this one.

  The room is bare, it’s cold and sterile, just as I remember from yesterday. A few masked people with their hoods up are huddled in the corner by a small table. The warden walks me over to the medical table and stands beside me as I sit on it.

  The officer from earlier appears on my other side, lightly touching my shoulder. “Mr. Matthews, lie back and stretch your arms out onto the armrests, please.”

  Following his direction, I scoot farther onto the table, turning my body and lie down on my back. I extend my arms on either side as the officer secures the leather straps around my ankles. He walks over to one arm as the warden grabs my other wrist and they both strap the leather restraints on my arms.

  “I will be here the entire time, Curtis,” the warden says as the officer pulls a leather strap around my torso. “The members of the team here will follow my direction, giving the medications on my command.”

  One of the masked men or women leans over me, applying sticky pads with wires to my chest. “That is a heart monitor,” the warden informs me. “They will use that to assist in their determination of your expiration. A more thorough physical examination is what will be the final conclusion.”

  I nod at the warden as I feel something wet and cold touching the insides of both of my arms. “Two IVs will be placed, in case one should fail,” he says, motioning to two of the masked people scrubbing my arms. A sharp prick pierces both arms at once as they slide the needles in and out, leaving the catheters in my arms and secure them with tape.

  Movement to my side catches my eyes and I look out through the window as people begin to file into the theater. They’re all here for the show and I’m the main attraction. The warden continues his rehearsed speech, but I don’t hear his words anymore. The moment my eyes meet hers, everything around me ceases to exist.

  She’s here.

  I didn’t ask Christine to come because I didn’t want this to be the last time she saw me, but I was selfish and wanted her here. She came here on her own and that alone was everything I needed.

  From the moment I met her, she could have been feeding me lies. Her kind words and soft eyes may have never been real, but the feelings she brought out of me were. And with the way she is staring at me, I refuse to believe that any of it was a lie.

  Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun with her clothes disheveled and her eyes glisten. She’s not here on business, as Christine, the reporter. She’s here on a personal level, as Christine, the woman who felt for a murderer.

  “Curtis,” the warden squeezes my shoulder, gaining my attention. “Do you have any last words?”

  “I do,” I reply, giving him a small smile before turning my head back to the window. The mere sight of all of the families has my hands sweating. All of their angry, narrowed eyes are pinned on me and filled with disgust. Swallowing hard, I keep my gaze at the tops of their heads and let the words flow.

  “No words could ever express how sorry I am or bring any of your loved ones back. What I did was horrific and none of them deserved what happened to them and for that, I am sorry.”

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and reopen them, finding Christine watching me. “You are the most beautiful and kindest woman I’ve ever met,” I tell her through the glass. “You came to me during a time when I didn’t realize how badly I needed you. You gave me a piece of your light and I’ll carry it with me into the new life and through whatever else comes.”

  I watch her come undone as I speak, with her hand closing over her mouth and tears falling, leaving streaks on her face.

  “You deserve the world and I’m sorry I can’t be the one to give it to you.”

  She doesn’t bother to wipe her eyes. She continues to let the tears fall and lightly shakes her head.

  “It’s time,” the warden says to me and turns his attention back to the team of faceless people carrying out my execution.

  I stare out through the window, my eyes locked on Christine’s as the warden begins giving orders. The first injection is pushed into my vein and swirls throughout my bloodstream, taking over my body.

  It’s like a warm, thick blanket; it’s heavy and suffocating, but it’s peaceful.

  I’m at peace.

  As my eyes grow heavy, I smile at Christine, knowing that everything is okay. My eyelids force their way shut and I drift into the dark abyss clutching onto her light that she shared with me.

  It’s finally time.

  It’s finally over.

  The end

  If you or someone you know is dealing with any of the issues that were touched in this story, there is help available. You have a voice and don’t have to struggle alone. Everyone deserves to be heard and there are people out there who will listen.

  Never be afraid to make that call.

  National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – For youth and adults

  (800) 273-TALK (8255)

  National Domestic Violence Hotline

  (800) 799-SAFE (7233)

  Rape, Sexual Assault, Abuse, and Incest National Network (RAINN)

  (800) 656-HOPE

  The Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline

  (800) 422-4453

  SAMHSA National Helpline

  800-662-HELP (4357)

  Acknowledgments

  Two years ago, Curtis’ story first came to me. I had to stop writing it for quite some time because of how heavy this story was. It was difficult to write and to lay his whol
e life story out for everyone to read. His story is one that I held close to my heart and will for the years to come.

  To everyone who took a chance on reading Curtis’ story: words could never express my gratitude. His story is one that is all too common and never one that people want to think about. You made the decision to read it, to hear it, and to let it be heard. I hope you enjoyed it, in anyway that someone could, and even if you didn’t, I hope it left it’s mark on you.

  Husband- you put up with my shit and my attitude and my bullshit, I should apologize… and I do… but you know, it’s me and you love me anyways. And I love you for that and so much more.

  Demon children- you’re not reading this for a looooong time… but when you do, you’ll already know everything I do is for you two.

  Heather- I love you a whole fucking lot. That is all.

  Mariela- you keep my shit in check and call me on my shit. What more could I ask from my roll dog? Love you!

  Cassie- my long lost twin… you can already read my mind, so you already know what I was going to write here. Love you, no hugs, just drugs.

  Michelle- my dark hooker, you are my shit. Love you!

  My betas- Jen, Cheri-lee, Aliana, Sabrina, Rumi, Gee: Y’all are the real MVP’s. For real… You guys read this book from the start and still stuck around after what I put you through. Love you, my homies!

  Ellie- As we already discussed, you know you’re stuck with me, but I have to thank you for fucking everything. Especially for loving this book.

  My loyal Psycho Squad of the Psycho Kingdom- YOU ARE ALL THE SHIT!! Need I say anymore? Read the first sentence again, because that’s what’s the most important.

  All of my other author friends- I’m not gonna list names because you all know who you are. You guys are all so amazing and have helped me so much along the way, with my endless questions and your undying support. I love you all!!