Today, the warden made an announcement. Ken is dead. We all pretty much thought so and nobody cares anyway.
There is a young inmate in the opposite cell. He came in yesterday. And as usual, all the folks gathered around him asking what he was in for so that they could place him on the prison food chain.
A jolly youth, I would say. And so good looking that one of the officers asked if he did acting school. I didn't hear what he replied but the folks hooted and went around shaking hands. I guess he is safe.
When I first arrived, I was pretty much all over the country's news so nobody tried to mess with me.Except this one guy with a Spanish accent and heavy tattoos who tried to hit me on the head with a shovel. Needless to say I dodged. And he got transferred not long after. Aside from that, some would occasionally come up to me and ask about certain things. Said they wanted to learn from the best.
Now that I've stayed here for a couple of decades, I have become a part of these walls. Grey and peeling.
I'am a ghost here. The warden is a friend and the officers treat me like the guy in thier neighborhood with a golden retriever and a pipe in his mouth watching the sunset in his back porch.
The people outside these walls have long forgotten me. Except my victims' family. Everytime they hear my name, they spit on the ground and recite sone mantras to prevent my evilness from infecting them. At least, that is what I imagine them doing.
Once a year, somebody comes to meet me. A reporter, a scriptwriter, a producer, a kin of a victim looking for answers. I tell what they need to hear but not necessarily what they want to hear.
I remember this one reporter. She had short brown hair which reminded me of Annie. But that was all that were to it.
“How did it feel to watch someone die before you, Mr Evans?", she asked.
“Why don't you try to find it out yourself? It is a pretty common feeling amongst humanity.", I replied.
“ Why do you say so?", she asked again.
“ I assumed you were smart." I replied.
She remained silent for a while and then said,
“ Well, I guess not."
Then she went on about all the things they ask you in the interrogation room. Nothing new, the answers were imprinted in my mind.
The ten minutes was almost up and the guard signalled her to wrap it up. She started packing her things. I was already going through the door when she said,
“ Mr Evans?"
I turned back.
“ Was everything you did worth everything you have now?".
I stood there.
The guard closed the door between us. I guess we both won't know the answer.
