Walking the Gallows ✔️

Chapter 23

Three days had passed since the last time Andy had seen either Dr. Martin or Detective Miller. He had assumed they were hard at work, looking for a way to clear his name and keep him off death row. He still couldn't say the same for his lawyer since he hadn't heard from him in a very long time.

He no longer stayed in the cell with the bed he was taken to when he had farewelled Courtney. Back where he was originally taken on the first day of his arrest, it was almost bittersweet to see that many of the people he had seen end up there were no longer sitting at the benches. They had acquired their freedom and gone on to live the rest of their lives, some of them repeating the same mistake that got them in the cell in the first place. At the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think that maybe a few of them had a fate similar to the one he was likely to face himself.

Four days was all he had left. It was hard to not panic knowing that he was likely to die. His life seemed so uneventful and meaningless knowing that at any moment it could be taken away from him. The experiences he could remember having seemed like something from a distant lifetime. Vin wasn't his brother, he hadn't been in love with Charlotte and nothing was as he thought it would be. It took a lot less time for him to realize just how quickly his emotional connection to things appeared to change.

"Andy," someone called to him. He wasn't sure whose voice it was. He wasn't sure why he was lead out of the room back into the interrogation room.

His movement to the room had been almost instant. It was more like teleporting. He remembered being called, standing up and before he knew it he was sitting exactly where he was supposed to be. Andy recognized his state of mind as the hazy one he had faced prior to Vin had left home. He was a lot more aware then he had been in that time, yet still he couldn't quite make out people's faces or voices. As he sat quietly in the chair in the room he hated most in the world, he tried to keep calm as the walls seemed to sway from side to side.

Nothing was different from the usual. It was his impression that being told to live between his cell and the IR was something he would need to deal with regularly. Being dragged from one place to another was all that he had known since first stepping foot into the precinct.

"We... what... problem... you." All of a sudden Courtney, Dr. Martin, and Det. Miller were lined up in front of him. He hadn't noticed them enter and he didn't grasp many of the words leaving their mouth. Their words were distorted and sounded like noise coming from a broken radio. Reading their lips was harder to do.

"Doctor... opinion... murders... symptoms... disorder." Broken words were all he could hear. Having a feeling that what they were saying was important, he felt the need to let them know he wasn't understanding them. He opened his mouth to talk but he couldn't form worlds. He couldn't hear what he was trying to say, but he knew more than likely that unintelligible words were likely to be said instead.

The people in front stopped talking. For a short period of time, Andy could have sworn that a flash of something had crossed the detective's face. The detective walked to the side of the table where he sat and without warning, swung his arm around and smacked him across the side of the head. It was so surprising and sudden that even the two doctors seemed shocked. Still, they said nothing as they waited for a response.

Andy came back to reality. It was strange how something as painful as a blow to the head could finally awake him from his helplessness. Mixed feelings surfaced towards the detective whose face had not changed as he placed himself by the doctor's side once again.

"You are ill, son. They can't give you the death penalty." They continued.

"Ill? What? Am I sick?" Andy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He wasn't sick at all. He had been feeling fine. Not even a headache. The only thing that seemed to put him off was the hazy-phases that had only happened a couple of times. It was more than likely the result of lack of sleep and the anxiety of knowing he could go to prison or even die.