The ultimate punishment ( a very short story)

All I my life I have had behavioural issues, in fact at one point when I was 12 my behavioural issues were so bad my parents put me into a psychiatric hospital, where I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, this is where you hear voices in your head. The day I was diagnosed was the day that changed my life. Suddenly everyone at school knew I was the local lunatic. It drove me mad, so mad that one day when I was 16 I lashed out.

There was one boy who particularly poked on me. He was called Jake and he would always come up to me and call me a spastic, or something along those lines, and eventually I had had enough.

It was my sixteenth birthday and as my birthday present from my parents I was given driving lessons for a year, this was a really big thing for me as my parents had never been completely certain if I would eve be able to drive(due to my schizophrenia) and so this was almost like a step forward. The next week when I went back Jake had found out about my driving lessons. At 4 o'clock he came up to me and started taunting me, he was saying about how I was a 'danger to society' and If I was 'let loose in a car on the road I would definitely kill someone', this made me flip. I completely lost it and all of the anger that was kept in me for the past few years came out in one big blow. I picked up a stone and hit Jake in the head. A satisfying thud crept across my ears and a shiver went down my spine. The atmosphere was deathly cold. The sirens echoed in my ears. The clink of the bars that were shutting behind me. The cell's walls cold against my face. The tears that came after all of the regret.

In court, I was told a life for a life, I had killed someone so now I was to be killed myself, the only thing was they weren't allowed to kill me until I was 18, this meant that I had two final years of 'freedom' until the day when I would be handed a piece of paper that condemned me to death.

Some people think that a life for a life is right as if you kill someone your life should be taken, jut as you have taken the person's life that you have killed, but if the murderer was killed for killing someone, that makes the person killing the murderer a murderer doesn't it? So surely isn't this just as bad as being a murderer yourself? Apparently not as I was later to discover.

Most people will spend their last few moments alive in bed, maybe thinking about the life that they have lived, not being able to get up as they are too old or too frail. Some may die peacefully in there sleep dreaming about about faraway lands and lovers they will never see again. I however did not spend my last few moments alive that way. After never even living the long life that I was supposed to live, I spent my last few moments tied down to a cold metal 'bed', thinking about how unjust life was. Wondering, what if?

The stab in my arm indicated that it was nearly all over. No more regret, no more bad dreams, no more injustice, or hypocrites to tell me where I'm going wrong.

Finally the world around me went black I fell into a sleep like condition, a deep sleep that I would never wake up out of.