The metal table gleamed under the fluorescent lights with two padded arms outstretched from its sides, buckled straps dangling over the edges. A tray laid atop rollers with a clear-fluid filled glass bottle and a syringe settled beside it. A small hand sized camera was mounted in the high corner of the room, the eye of the lens patiently watching the empty table. A window with protective glass separated this room from another. The opening peered out into the next small room, no larger than its companion with rows of chairs set up from wall to wall. The smell of disinfectant lingered, flumes of bleach rose from the white tiled floor.

            Photos scattered across the table revealing the gruesome images of a naked young girl, bloodied from head to toe, eyes glassy and lifeless, staring into the camera. Splashes of crimson red painted the walls, a finger painting of the child’s palm prints and smears on the white walls. A silver knife gleamed in the light of the camera’s flash, dipped in a paint of the same. The gavel banged and the voices in the room simmered from a low murmur to utter silence. A woman stood and was addressed.

            “We find the defendant…”

            The sister room filled with different characteristics: a whimpering woman with wadded tissue in her hands; beside her a man with wiry spectacles sliding down the slope of his nose offering comfort; others in suits with badges clipped to their collars and a notepad in hand. They stared into the screen of the empty room, waiting for the feature presentation to begin. Had they popcorn the setting would be most pleasing. One of the women with badges sat cross-legged, glancing at her watch impatiently. She would be late picking her daughter up from school. Another man rested his hands on his unsettled belly, trying to divert his attention from the grumbling vibrations that announced the expectations of nourishment.

            Soon the previews began as the stillness of the front room stirred. A large pudgy man in a evergreen suit with a gold badge shining on his breast entered the room, checking the table and buckles, then exited. A thin man with bifocal glasses, a long white coat and a stethoscope dangling from his neck entered next. He pressed the needle of a syringe to the bottle’s cap, piercing the protective seal and sucked the fluid into the plastic tubing. He set the injection down on the tray and disappeared from sight.

            Two officers entered the room, standing at attention in the corners of either side, firearms resting comfortably on their shoulders. The door swung open again and two officers escorted a thin pale mass caped in bright orange to the table. His eyes appeared sullen, encircled with dark bruising of sleeplessness. His cheek bones rose higher than the flesh, his hair was tousled in a rustle atop his skull. The bright orange jumper came short on his ankles, revealing white bone and clinking metal anklets locked securely to each and one another. A long chain trailed up from his feet to his wrists where it separated and met each bony limb. The harsh restraints were loosened, then removed as he was lifted

onto the table and his arms were outstretched, buckled down to the table’s own appendages.

            After the weakened man was properly placed, one guard stood aside as the other took his place between the audience and the man.

            “You have been convicted of first degree murder and sentenced to death in accordance with the court of law. Do you have anything you wish to say before the drugs are administered?”

            The silence hung thick in the air. The man’s eyes floated to the ceiling and froze. With nothing uttered, the ceremony continued. The man in the white coat returned and picked up the syringe. Tapping it with a fingernail, he pressed the butt-end of the tube and allowed droplets of the fluid to spew forward. He approached the man laid out on the table, seemingly a sick dog about to be euphemized.

            The audience in the sister room tensed. The woman once whimpering sat earnestly on the edge of her seat, the man once comforting her watched intently like a child awaiting Christmas morning. The hungry man forgot his stomach and the mother was relieved the ordeal would soon be over. An unidentified man stood in the back with a slight smirk spreading across his lips.

            The sleek silver needle slid across the surface of his skin, colliding with frail hairs before piercing and disappearing into his arm. The butt of the syringe was pressed to its limit, releasing spurts of poison into the course of veins through his body, then removed, empty.

            The man’s breathing slowly grew labored, a blush rose in his cheeks and beads of sweat formed at his brow. His chest rose and fell, his breathes scraped the sides of his throat as they struggled to break free from his lungs. Suddenly his fists clenched, fingers curled into his palms. His eyes widened.

            “Agh!” His torso jerked up from the table then slammed back down home. His pupils dilated, nervously flying about the room. Drops of blood escaped the crease of his enclosed palms as the nails cut into the thin flesh. Nearly as quickly he settled. His breathing slowed, his hands relaxed, his legs laid limp. The woman in the sister room found herself staring into the eyes of the wild beast as his orbs rolled aside to meet hers.

            “Heh…” The sound startled the onlookers, but they simmered, sure his body was refluxing. The corners of his mouth turned up, his mossy teeth flashed to his audience and his Adam’s apple jumped heartily as a burst of laughter escaped his throat. The laughter rose, booming off surrounding walls, tumbling down the halls of the building. The mother’s hand clasped her breast; the hungry man’s stomach suddenly churned and bile frothed up his esophagus. The woman brought her wadded tissue to her lips; the man fixed his spectacles.

            The laughter rolled on but a moment longer, then with one last “HA”, he droned out, and the room was silent again.