Breathe : skephalo

Chapter nineteen : the fallen angle

1823

" tué-le! (kill him!)" the crowd chanted, showing no remorse to the condemned person stuck in the guillotine, death just around the corner.

The boy was doomed, he'd taken a bottle of medicine for his sick mother at home barely able to move anymore.

He knew if he were to be caught he'd be punished with death, and he was.

" cette vie basse, rien de plus qu'un voleur ! A été pris en train de voler des médicaments! ( this low life, nothing more than a thief! Was caught stealing medicine!)" the man covered with a black hood shouted out to the crowd of people coming to watch the show.

The people turned furious in seconds, gasps and snickering was flowing through the crowd.

Hed tried to explain why he did what he did, that he'd tried everything available on the market for his dying mother.

That whatever he got his hands on just wasn't what his mother needed.

What she needed they didn't give out to lower class people like him, so the only chance he had left to save his mother was to steal.

But the people were heartless, cold, they only laughed at the boy and told him that stealing was stealing, even if it was for a dying useless woman.

He's tried to get away, fight them off, but he wasn't strong enough.

He silently cried on the way to his death, praying that his mother's sickness would take her fast and painless instead of her wondering why her son never came home that night, and eventually starved to death.

By the time he was secured to what was about to take his life, he'd already excepted his death, now only wanting them to hurry up and get it over with.

The hooded man turned away from the shouting crowd, grabbing a fist full of the brown hair of the doomed boy.

He made the boy meet his eyes, what surprised the man was that the green eyes looking right at him showed no fear, no regrets like the eyes of all his other victims.

The hooded man let go of the brown locks only to bring his hand hard against the boys cheek.

The sting of the slap made the boy hiss, but not loud that the man who just slapped him could hear.

" En fin de compte (let's get this done with)" the hooded man bent down and tauntingly whispered in the boy's ear before abruptly resuming his position and moving toward the piece of rope holding the bade that was soon to end his life.

the crowd started cheering, some yelling how they hoped he'd feel everything form the blade hitting him to when it sliced the last of skin connecting his head to his body.

Memories flashed of his life, from when his mother and father were still in love and love their son with everything they had. To when he turned five and his dad had saved up money all year so he could get two lollipops.

To when the guards came and took his father, he just turned eight a month prior.

The cried of his mother still haunted his dreams even to this day.

To when his mother suddenly fell sick and by four months couldn't get out of bed anymore.

He turned sixteen two days before his mother had another seizure leaving her with no ability to speak anymore, that was fifteen days ago.

The boy closed his eyes, praying that his soon to be death wouldn't be too painful.

He heard the snap of the rope.