A Winter Execution

It’s a cold day in December and everything is covered with snow. Blackrock, a small town located somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, looks peaceful and friendly. But the citizens of Blackrock are not so friendly in some cases. The young female inmate of the Blackrock county jail soon will know…

Inmate Profile No.: 12238

Name: Hayley Anne Morgan

Age: 19

Sex: Female

Height: 5’ 7’’

Weight: 7 stone

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Blond

Distinguishing Marks: Tattoo on Base of Spine (Sun)

Crime: Causing a fatal accident

Prelude

I lie in my cell. The trial is tomorrow. We all know I’m guilty; it’s just a formality. I go in, plead guilty and get my sentence. My lawyer says there’s a good chance I’ll get life. I can’t get my hopes up though. I know they could sentence me to death, but I’m young, white and female. Even Texas doesn’t execute people like me, often.

I’m wondering over and over again how I got into this terrible trouble. Five of my friends and me de­cided to hire a small hut, located high in the Rocky Mountains, for our first holi­day-trip without our parents. We’ve had really a great time there with snowboarding, hiking and just having fun in the snow. And then that fateful day was there. My 15-year-old sister Amy and me were on a hiking tour and lost our way. As we finally figured out how to get home, it was already late in the afternoon and nearly dark. So we ignored the sign reading “No trespassing, danger of avalanches!” and used that forbidden footpath because it was a shortcut.

And then the accident happened. The snow under our feet came loose and started to move down the hill. We managed to save ourselves, but the small amount of snow we ini­tially kicked off increased in­to a vast avalanche, and that avalanche hit a group of teen­agers, killing 4 of them and severely injur­ing 21. So Amy and me were arrested and ac­cused for causing the death of those people. And that unfortunately was the truth. I’ve nev­er seen poor little Amy since we’ve been arrested because Amy was sent to the central ju­venile court in the district’s capital. So I was alone here all the time, detained at the county jail of this small rocky-mountains town, far away from home.

The Trial

So today will be my trial. It is now 7:50am and the door to my cell opens. A young female deputy-sheriff comes in, and I notice, that she is carrying my large rucksack, which was the only luggage I took with me on this once so happy trip.

“Come on Hayley-Anne”, she says, “You should put on some new clothes for court!”

During the last three weeks in jail, I had to wear the same clothes I was arrested in, my snowboard­ing-trousers and my heavy hand-knitted woolen sweater. I’m really glad that I can change my dress now so I pick out some new jeans and my gray designer-turtleneck. Dressed like this, nobody can say I want to influence someone by sex appeal, but never­theless my sweater fits tight and shows off my body. I’m hoping the Judge likes it. Finally I put on my cozy parka. I really love this heavy jacket. It always keeps me warm and I think I’m looking really pretty, when its fur-lined hood surrounds my face. When I’m led to the courtroom later, I’ll pull the hood over my head, to hide my face from the press.

“O.K. turn around and put your hands behind your back”, the deputy-bitch says. I comply and she handcuffs me. Now she looks at me as if she is interested in something.

“By the way, I really like your dress”, she says, “I’m looking forward to getting it!”

“I’m not going to sell it or even give it away”, I reply.

“Listen bitch”, she says, “Don’t you know that in our county, It’s an old privilege of the exe­cutioner to get all the property of the executed prisoner? Well, the executioner is my lov­er… lets go!”

I’m led to the courtroom now and I’m so terrified. I don’t want to die but obviously there are some people who count on my death! Now the Judge enters and the Trial begins…

The Sentence

The trial took 15 minutes. The jury was unanimous. I was guilty. The Judge took only three minutes deciding my sentence. It appears he had made up his mind long ago.

“No brave Citizen can understand, why a young intelligent student like you, willingly risks the lives of so many innocent people, but you did and so you are responsible for the death of four juvenile girls and boys in the age of your sister. Your behavior is a good example that our society is falling apart. The crime rates are doubling every decade. We must do something to stem the flow of crime. Taking this into account, the Government has de­cided that a new punishment system must be introduced. So far, we have learned from history that one punishment is far more effective than any others, not only for the perpet­rator, but for the public as well. Therefore, Hayley Anne Morgan, I have no choice but to sentence you to death by Public Hanging”

No, I can’t die. Not now. Not in public!

I shit all down my jeans. Everyone sees it. I’m so embarrassed.

“Guards, take her away!”

Transport to Prison

I am taken down the stairs and placed in a small holding cell. There, I can see some poor little biker chick being prepped. I know that I’ll be doing the same soon.

First they unzip her heavy biker-leather-jacket and remove her tight little tank top, then re­move her leather trousers and pants. They then search her cavities, and strap her down to a table. They begin by shaving off all her body hair, till she is bald except her head. Then they shower her and begin to dress her.

They make her put on simple long sleeved cotton underwear, an orange padded jumpsuit and simple working boots. Obviously due to the cold climate, the jumpsuit is a heavily pad­ded winter model. With its nylon outer-shell and its high collar, it looks nearly like a simple snowsuit.

Finally, she turns to the guards who begin to apply the restraints. They start by chaining her legs to­gether, and then apply the waist chain and handcuffs, finishing by linking them all together. Lastly, an oversized, red ball gag is pushed down her mouth, pulled tight and a bag goes over her head. Now she’s prepped to go. Eventually ready, she is lead to the waiting cell. She looks so helpless. She was so beautiful but now, she is unrecognizable.

Now it’s my turn, I can’t wait.

Soon, I look just like her, the other girl, in my prison winter-dress, restraints and with that horrid gag. I can barely move.

I can hear the van pull up. No escape now. I am pushed into the van first and my hands and feet are chained to the ground. Then my collar is bolted to the side of the van. I can hear the other girl sob­bing beside me. I can feel her warm nylon suit rubbing against mine. I can hear her pissing herself. I can’t smell much better myself though.

Arriving at death row

We are both taken from the van to the “Check-In Desk.” The first Guard removes the bags from our heads. This place looks like Hell. There is a small desk, which I am pushed to­wards.

“Hayley Anne Morgan”

“Mmphh!!”

“I’ll take that as a yes, from now on you are Inmate 12238. From now on you will answer to that name. You will answer with Sir before and after everything you say. Is this under­stood?”

I nod.

“Good.” He removes my gag, “Welcome to Blackrock. I hope you enjoy your short stay with us.” He smiles at me. “Now, Sarah Rosa Mitchell, …”

The sound trails of, as I am lead through to the Mug shot room. They take photos of me from all angles and then take me to the Prison Tattooist. There, one of the Guards unzips my jumpsuit. He pulls my left breast out and then pushes me into the chair. The guard straps me down whilst the tat­tooist prepares the ink and needle. I know what they’re going to do. They’re going to brand me, like cattle. Two minutes and some immense pain later, I am Inmate 12238, according to my breast.

“Dress yourself, slut”

“Sir, Yes, Sir” I whimper.

As I zip up the jumpsuit, the guard turns to me. “You learn quick, keep it up and we might make sure your death is too.”

The biker chick is lead in. She looks petrified because it was her turn to watch this time. Now the guard grabs me by the arm. He takes me down a long corridor and past two se­curity gates. I’m not getting out of here. I pass a sign that says Death Row. I begin crying.

“Look, shut up now or I’ll gag you.”

I know I killed but surely I don’t deserve this. At the last security gate, the guard hands me over to the Death Row Staff. He takes me to my cell. It is 3” by 6” and has a thin mattress on the floor.

“What if I need a shit?”

“Then shit yourself, slut, and remember, it’s Sir.”

“Sir, Sorry, Sir”

I’m still in all my chains and dressed as on the transport. The guard pushes me in, still close the door behind me. It has a small slit in it. Other than that, there’s nothing here. No toilet, no window.

Now I’ve been in here for 6 hours now and I’m bursting for a piss and a shit. I’m really sweaty from the “prisoner’s winter suit” that I’m wearing, but I can’t get it off. The chain is round the waist of the suit. It’s high collar does make a good pillow though.

I can’t hold on any longer and I let a big steaming shit out, followed by a long trickle of piss. The suit is horrid. All I can look forward too now is getting out of this uniform. Only a few days to live.

I finally got to sleep at 4 and now they wake us at 6.30. I can smell the shit and I’m burst­ing again, despite having nothing to eat. I wait till 7 before moving. As soon as I do, I need another shit. I shit again and as I stand up, I can feel it slowly slide down my leg. Another trickle of pee follows it. At 7.30 a guard comes in.

“You dirty little slut, you’ve shat everywhere. At least you’ll only have to live in it for a few days.”

“Days, but appeal processes take years. I’ll be forty before I die.”

“New system, bitch. No appeals, and remember. It’s Sir. Once more and I’ll make you lick that jump­suit clean.”

“What! No appeals?”

“You dumb bitch!” He begins unchaining me. “Get that suit off.”

I comply.

“Lick it clean.”

“You’re joking!” I cry. He glares at me. He means it. I kneel down.

He grabs me by the hair and pushes my face in the shit.

“Lick, slut.” I begin licking. It tastes, surprisingly, like shit. I feel so sick. Tears are stream­ing down my face. After a couple of minutes, he lets go. I stand up and he smiles.

“Get dressed, we’ll get you a new uniform later”

My face is covered in shit, piss and tears. I feel like I don’t deserve to live.

“Sir, Thank You, Sir.” I sob.

The guards take me in my dirty uniform and chains to the shower room. There I am finally allowed to remove my uniform. I come out naked. Then they take me to the Prison Store.

“New Death Row Inmate. She needs a new uniform, better made it a small.” The guard tells the Store Manager. He soon comes back with a dark blue denim jacket and some jeans.

“Put them on”, the guard says and I comply.

“She’s still all shitty,” remarks the Guard. “Filthy whore.” I pull on the jeans. They’re tight but fit. I but­ton them up and then take the Denim Jacket. It feels so rough on my naked body but I put it on any­way and button it all the way up, before pulling the collar up around my neck.

“No, No.” The guard puts the collar down again and undoes the top three buttons. “There. Now we get a better view.” They begin chaining me again.

“Now we’re going for a walk.” The Guard looks at me with an evil smile. The jeans hurt my crotch and the tight jacket chafes my already sore breasts.

Good bye, little sister

The guards take me down a set of stairs and past a sign that says “Death Watch / Prepara­tion”. I need another shit.

“Not today, you’re not going to kill me today. Please, No, Sir”

The guards just laugh. Soon, we go through a security gate and enter a room with a sign saying:

“Visitors area, Relatives of Prisoner”

I wonder why I have to be here. My parents just wrote me a Letter, telling me that they don’t have a daughter any more and that they are not going to be present at my execution.

“Today, there’s going to be an execution. You’re going to watch!”

“Sir, please, I can’t watch sir.”

“You must.”

Now the door opens and a female guard pushes another girl in. And… wow, it’s Amy my little sister. Amy and I are seated at a table and instructed not to touch each other. Two guards, standing very close to us are watching us.

“Hi Amy, nice to see you. I really was praying that they allow us a last visit before I die…”

Amy cries heavily.

I notice that she is wearing her own clothes. She is in fact looking very nice, wearing her tight leather trousers, a white long sleeved T-shirt and her gray down vest over it. I’m happy not to see her wear­ing a prison uniform and so I say:

“Baby, tell me something about your trial at the juvenile court!”

Amy’s crying increases.

“What’s wrong Baby?”

“There’s nothing wrong at all”, one of the guards says. “It’s all perfectly right: The little bitch was sen­tenced to the same penalty as you. That’s all!”

Slowly I understand what’s going on here. “So they’ll also … will it be soon?” I ask.

“Stupid slut” the guard says “Didn’t I already tell you that you’re going to watch an execu­tion today? If the phone doesn’t ring until 12:00 your sister will be a dead little slut right at 12:10!”

Now another man enters the room and introduces himself as the warden of the juvenile prison.

“We’ve taken Amy here to Blackrock for her execution, because the relatives of your vic­tims live here! It’s your job as her elder sister to calm her. When she behaves well when we go outside, she’ll have a fast and nearly painless death!”

Amy’s crying turns into sobbing and the warden continues:

“Amy, you know you will be shot. This won’t hurt you much. This is a benefit for you, as a teenager. Additionally we offer you the opportunity not to be pinioned. But this requires your cooperation. If you don’t follow our commands, we’ll have to pinion you after all. Do you think you can be that strong?”

“Yes…, please no handcuffs and leg irons again”

“O.K., a last question Amy: Where do you want the executioner to aim? Head, Neck or Heart?”

“Not my head please. I want to be myself up to the end. Don’t destroy my brain…”

“Fine, good decision. I really didn’t want to see your pretty little face blown away. We’ll aim at your chest, right?”

Amy nods and tears are running down her face. It is really horrible, listening to this cold-blooded man talking to my little sister about the way she wants to die. The clock on the wall reaches 12.00 and the phone still hasn’t rung. The warden turns and signals to the waiting officers. Both Amy and I are aware what’s going to happen now. Two young female officers are reaching for Amy, getting a hold of her arms, one on each side of her. She is not pinioned as she has requested. Now she is led out and I have to walk behind her, still bound and thus controlled by only one guard.

On our way out, additional witnesses, the relatives of the victims and press join our little parade. We are heading to a far away corner of the prison yard. A man is waiting there. He’s wearing a green uni­form and a green parka and he’s hiding his face with a balaclava and the hood of his parka. I know what his job is. He’ll soon kill my little sister. And per­haps he’ll also kill me in the near future.

Now Amy is told to kneel down. She complies. The witnesses, including me, are instructed to form a half-circle around my poor little sister, so everyone has a good view. Oh god, they are really going to kill little Amy. I can hear the warden read her death warrant. He closes with the words:

“Amy Morgan, do you have any last words?”

She nods.

“Please, don’t kill me, I’m only 15, I’m still a virgin, I can’t die like this, please, don’t do it.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes Sir. Bye Hayley”

She knows it’s too late. I see the guards leaving her now, leaving her alone kneeling in front of the executioner, bravely facing him. The warden continues:

“Amy, I recommend to cover your eyes now, that will make it much easier for you. And Please talk no more now. When you’re ready, stop any movements, just freeze!”

Amy complies. I watch my poor sister getting her scarf off and use it to blindfold herself. She does everything very slow and I can see that she is quivering. She is still kneeling and the scarf already covers her face. Her hands are at the back of her head as she is tying a knot to fix her blindfold. Oh god, the executioner is producing a gun out of his pocket. He is aiming. Not yet, she isn’t ready I think.

Bang!

The single shot enters Amy’s chest in the front and leaving it at her back. Blood spreads out off her wounds and red-painted feathers from her down-vest fly around. She lets out a short final gasp and falls to one side. Her body makes some spastic movements but this is rapidly getting weaker. Large amounts of blood flow out of her wounds and her mouth. She is lying motionless now in a lake of blood. The physician pulls her blindfold away and in­spects her eyes.

“Good job, she already expired!”

“So in the case of the juvenile offender Amy Morgan, I declare justice is done!“ the warden says and the witnesses applause.

I watch the witnesses taking a last close look at my sister’s corpse and then leave. A guard is getting a hold of her ankles, lifting her feet and legs up and making the remaining blood leave her body. Now someone brings a body bag and they are putting Amy in it. Before they close the zipper, they allow me to take a last look at my sister. Her face shows signs of agony and pain. She must have felt in­credible pain in the last moments of her live.

“Poor little Amy, what did they do to you…?”

“You’ll follow her down to hell soon, slut. Move!”

Twenty minutes later, I’m back in my shitty cell. I wish I hadn’t seen that. I don’t wish any­one to have to watch the death of a so close relative. It also was a horrid reminder of my fate. I need to lie down. I had plans. I was going to be an actress, famous. Now I’ll be fam­ous. The first public executions in America for a very long time.

It’s my turn now

The guards enter my cell at 11.15.

“Sir, Where are you taking me?”

“Think we should gag her”

“Yeah”

One guard holds my mouth open whilst the other pushes a gag down my throat, before pulling the strap tight. Soon, we reach a large white room. It looks sterile, like a hospital room. There is a gurney in the middle and a nurse standing in one corner. She is wearing long gloves and a surgic­al mask. The guards unchain me.

“Take off all your clothes and place them in this bag.”

I comply and I’m completely naked now. They take me over to the gurney and strap me down. The nurse walks over, performs a fast and brutally painful cavity search and then disappears. Now a man enters the room. I already know who he is. I’ve seen him yesterday.

“Hi, my name is Johannes Kruger, but you can call me Joe. You know what my job is. You’re going to hang at 12.00 today so we will have to get you ready quickly.”

“Mmphh!!”

“Guard, remove the gag and let me talk to her,” the guard does.

“You have the right to wear your own clothes at the gallows, do you want that?”

“Yes, please.”

“Fine. So you’ll mess your own stuff and not the state’s property. You can request one pair of shoes, one pair of trousers, a shirt or sweater and a jacket. No socks, no underwear, no bra are allowed. You understand?”

I nod. “I’d like to wear my padded winter boots, my padded snowboarding trousers, my gray turtle­neck and my blue parka!”

“That’s approved!”

“Why can’t I have underwear?

“Do you really want to know that?”

“Yes”

“Because it’s easier then to strip your hanging corpse naked for the physician to examine!”

Oh god… I feel so sick.

“Lets proceed, get her clothes.”

A young prison official leaves the room and comes back with the clothes I requested. The guards un­strap me and hand me them. I pull on the trousers and zip them up, followed by the boots. Then, I’m handed the turtleneck. I pull it over my head and roll down the collar. I’m glad to wear my own clothes again. The woolly turtleneck is quite itchy on my naked skin, since I’m not allowed to wear a T-shirt under it. But the snowboard-trousers are really great without underwear. Their soft lining gently caresses my pussy. Why did I always wear panties under them? Finally, I take my much-loved parka, zip it and button it up. I al­ways feel safe when I’m wearing this heavy warm jacket. And I think I’m really looking good in shiny blue nylon and a big coyote-fur collar. And I want to look nice when all those people are watching me.

But now I’m brutally reminded that I’m about to receive a punishment. One guard takes a leather belt, with heavy shackles attached at the front and puts it on me. The executioner allows me to cover my wrists with the sleeves of my sweater, to prevent the shackles from hurting me too much, as they are now fastened tightly around my wrists. Now I’m ready to go to the gallows.

“Just a minute, and we’ll head off.”

“Joe, will it hurt much?”

“I can’t promise that it will be easy for you”

“When it lasts too long, will you give me the coup-de-grace?”

“That’s not possible, sorry. Stop lamenting now. Perhaps you better think about your vic­tims, dying in the avalanche. By the way, it’s time to go!”

Someone shouts “Dead girl walking” and they push me down the corridor. I know, there’s a door at the end of the corridor that leads to the big public execution yard. I know the rules: when I’ve passed that door, it is too late for pardon. The execution will surely take place then.

The end of the corridor comes nearer and nearer. Soon, I can hear the crowd. Now the fatal door is right in front of me. Joe picks up a phone next to the door and calls someone. I can’t understand what they are talking about. Then he looks at me for nearly twenty seconds, gives me a slight hug and says “Be strong now, pretty Lady”. The door opens and I’m pushed trough.

The yard is surrounded by massive brick-walls. I’ve seen this place on a picture in one of my school­books: It used to be an exercise yard, but after the reintroduction of the death penalty, it was conver­ted to the place where executions are carried out. It features a roof made of sheet metal, that is ar­ranged free over the center of the yard by steel supports. That roof was intended to keep the yard free from snow, but now it would serve as my gal­lows as well. From one part of the steel-structure dangles the horrible noose and a stool is arranged right under the noose. Everything is ready for me. This fucking simple device is going to kill me.

I’m pushed forward now. I can see a camera-team of EX-TV filming me. I wonder, how much people in the whole USA have just switched on EX-TV to see my dying perform­ance. About 50 people are present in the execution yard. They have all come out just to see me die. Why would they want to see anyone die? I can see their faces staring at me, hating me. They really want me to die. The guards lead me forward. Soon we reach the stool and the executioner helps me up. I can feel that someone chains my ankles together now, so tight that it hurts. Diverted by that, I don’t notice that the execu­tioner reaches for the noose. Suddenly, the deadly rope slips round my neck. Then, he carefully ar­ranges the collar of my sweater and the hood of my parka, to not interfere with the noose. Then I can hear the warden speaking:

“Hayley Anne Morgan. You took the lives of four innocent teenagers. Today, the friends and relatives of your victims have assembled here for your punishment. Is there anything you want to say to the them?”

I hear me say: “I’m so sorry... so sorry... please have mercy...”

Now I notice, that five young women, obviously relatives of the dead teenagers, approach the gal­lows. Then the warden continues:

“Ms. Morgen, can you see the red haired lady in the down-jacket? This is Clarissa McPershon. She lost two of her little sisters, who were twins. She will soon kick the stool under your feet away and I don’t think she’ll feel sorry for you.”

In the meantime, the five girls have formed a half circle around me. One of them is holding a black-and-white photograph of one of the victims. I can see her studying the noose around my neck with great pleasure. She obviously enjoys my fear and looks forward to see me die. I can’t stand all those faces any more, who stare at me with so much hate and I’m glad that the hangman now produces a thin black scarf out of his pocket and uses it to blindfold me. Now the warden speaks again:

“Hayley Anne Morgan, you have been sentenced to death and are to be hung by the neck until dead. We all hope, you suffer long enough now, to compensate for your crime. God bless you!”

I just sob. They will do it now. Right now. I hear someone approaching me. I hear the rust­ling sound of a brand new down-jacket and I know it is Clarissa McPershon in her north-face-jacket, the girl that was chosen to kick the stool away. I know, I’m going to hang soon and begin to cry.

I hear Clarissa say “go to hell, slut” and feel the stool kicked away under my feet. I drop, only a few inches before the rope digs into my neck. I try to bring my hands up to pull at the rope but my hands are tied to my waist. I try to kick around to find some support for my feet, but they are chained togeth­er. My face goes bright red. I am making strange gurgling noises as I struggle to breathe. My tongue is sticking out and I can feel my eyes bulging.

I am swinging from side to side as I jerk about on the end of the rope. Drool is running down my chin and onto my parka and tears are running down my cheeks. I can’t hold on any more. I release a massive steaming shit into my trousers and at the same time piss all down my front. The crowd gasps as the excrements fill my trousers. Seconds later, it all goes black. I think it’s over.