What goes on in the mind of a criminal about to be executed? No one knows, because they're dead by the time they anyone thinks about their mindset. What about a criminal who knows that he'd done wrong? That he wishes he could take back what he did? Of course, it'd be too late by then. And it's too late for this one right now...

It’s an awkward feeling when walking up the steps of the gallows to your own execution. Not just because you know you’re going to experience such an abrupt death, but also because you know that there are a bunch of spectators waiting…just waiting for that lever to be pulled and for you to die. Yes, I looked out into the crowd as I walk up the steps, just as the executioner guides me to. The crowd was close to silent. They all waited there in anticipation for that noose to yank my neck and break it for a swift death. It sort of makes you think to yourself, why all this preparation, this show? Why don’t you just get the damn killing over with and not have to show everyone this? But of course, it’s all about the deterrent isn’t it? Though, it should be more of a celebration here.

There’s no turning back now...well, now that there ever was. The executioner wraps a noose around my neck and yanks it tight—much tighter than he would have to. I know what to expect. Only this time, I won’t be able to be saved. There’s no use struggling, nor is there any reason to. I think to myself, holy shit, I’m literally about to lose my life. Many things go through my head at once, like if I was surely going to die, why should I have to die by their conventional terms? What difference would it make if I tried to fight back? Wouldn't it be better to at least try to escape, as small a chance as that would have of succeeding? Is it about dignity? I hope so, because I continued to keep going.

The warden is out there in the crowd, waiting to watch me get executed. I shoot a glance at him, and he shoots one back. He knows that he probably doesn’t enjoy watching this any more than I did going through with it, but with compassion? I doubt it. And I hope he doesn't. The warden constantly tries to look down at the ground, but he ultimately follows back to me. The executioner gets the rope ready to be pulled tight.

The executioner…this is his job. He was hired to do this. He shouldn’t have to deal with the repercussions, right? He’s simply following orders, right? And this time, he’s ridding of a horrendous criminal, right?

But still, he looked at me with disgust and disgrace. This time, I suppose was a job he’d take pleasure out of committing. “Any last words?” the executioner says out of obligation.

I’m thinking for a bit. Would I be trying to stall the execution? Probably not, as there’s no need to. But I am thinking if there’s anything to say.

And my all I could have my final words be are, “I’m sorry.”

The executioner’s eyes light up, as he does not know how to interpret that statement. I mean, am I apologizing for the entire role I played in that horrendous crime? Who’s to say that a simple ‘sorry’ will make up for the fact that a huge impact had been made? I wish I knew. By, God, if there was one thing I want to know right now, that would be it.

I’m still looking at the warden, who probably couldn’t hear what I just said. The executioner who had lit up his eyes followed mine to the warden in the midst of the crowd of spectators, who in turn looked back at him with the same look he gave me. The executioner then looks at me, then at the warden once again, who can't stand to watch, as he walks away from the crowd. Even I can't stand to watch. I tilt my head down to avoid seeing the crowd. The executioner, with shaking hands, covers my head with an opaque bag and ties it off at my neck to keep it in place.

I hear the executioner walking over to the lever. He’s taking his time, though.

The executioner grabs hold of the lever and tightens his grip, knowing what must be done. He takes a deep breath and he gets ready. And he…he stops. I assumed he should been a heartless machine, taking orders like whatever...like I was.

I turn my head towards him and bow my head. He knows what must be done. He then pictures exactly what I did to deserve this. He thinks back to what I had committed, the torturing, the murdering, everything…just to justify it in his own head, for this one moment, for that one action. With all his strength, more than necessary, squeezing the lever harder than he should, he getting ready once again. The crowd is in at the height of its anticipation, just about to burst out cheering that the deed will have been done, that this was yet another scumbag dead and gotten rid of in this world.