Part III - Chapter XXVIII: Executions & Endings

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Eugene could see the jeering crowds that had gathered for the spectacle. They cheered, but not a single face held any sort of happiness. They were angry and filled with hate. Eugene’s own face was calm, accepting, even a little happy at the prospect of having it all over and done with.

One would expect the opposite. The crowds happy, elated that justice was done as well as excited at the prospect of a little entertainment. And the man standing behind the bars watching his own scaffold being prepared, angry and resentful and hateful.

The cell itself was a peaceful sort of place. Calm and clean. The walls did quite a bit to dull the cheers of the crowds into a soft throb. A thin cot was pressed into a corner and one wall was covered in bars, holding the gate. A guard had been ordered to watch the door, but he had shuffled over to the farthest possible place while still having an eye on Eugene. The fear was clear behind the guard’s eyes and Eugene couldn’t blame him. He had tried to reassure the man --the assignment was definitely not the nicest-- but every word that had come from Eugene’s mouth had only served to frighten the man even more.

He had had some visits, first from the priest that had stayed a meter away from the cell while recited his rites. There was no fear behind his eyes. Only distain. But Eugene could not care less. He had no need of this priest’s pity or care. He had his own priest.

From the top of the staircase that led to the prison’s outer door, voices called out. Muffled, but loud enough to pique Eugene’s interest. But he still did not move away from the window. Nothing could possibly interest him enough to spend his last few minutes on it. Footfalls rung out and half a dozen officers appeared on the staircase. They walked right past the frightened guard to the cage. The door swung open and the group of officers spat out a man who stumbled into the small cave. Without a moment’s hesitation, they locked the door and disappeared up the staircase.

Eugene kept staring out the window. The crowds were far more interesting to watch than anything the guards could have done.

But then the soft footfalls of someone in his cell reached his ears. He took a deep breath.

“I thought I’d hate you more,” the visitor said, his voice quiet, sad. 

Eugene folded his hands behind his back and turned to face Charlie.

“Why don’t you?”

“Perhaps because I see no murderer. You have killed many people, Eugene, but you are not a killer.”

“The people would disagree.”

“They do not know you like I do. They could not possibly understand.” Charlie stepped forward and his eyes locked with Eugene’s. “You are not upset or frightened.” It was more of a question than a statement.

“I suppose not.”

“Why are you doing this? With a single flick of your hand you could have escaped. In fact, you did not have to turn yourself in at all. I would not have said anything. You could have continued on. If you felt guilty and could no longer remain in the city, you could have made amends some other way, started afresh somewhere else. Why?”

“You could say I was convicted of my actions and then convinced that there was no other way of atoning for my deeds.”

“I’m sure there is. You could leave and try to figure out a less deadly way of reaching redemption.”

“Don’t try to persuade me to stop this, Charlie. Don’t tell me to escape and live. Enough people have tried to convince me already.”

Charlie chuckled. “Evelyne came, didn’t she? Don’t worry, I won’t. Despite what I believe, I trust you and your decisions. If you are here, right now, than here and now is where you should be.”

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