I chew nervously on my nails, the result them ending in short ragged stubs. My nerves have got the best of me, and despite having gotten a manicure just two days ago, I have scraped every last bit of polish off my nails. It would be a miracle in itself if I don't get poisoning from all the nail polish I digested.
Actually, it wouldn't be a miracle. Quite the contrary, it would be beyond my wildest dreams if things ended as simple and as peaceful as that.
I raise my head to the heave thuds of footsteps outside my door. I know the guards walk that way on purpose, making all that unnecessary noise as a constant reminder that I am trapped, confined and powerless. Most importantly, the sound of the heavy footsteps are there to remind me that there is no escape. No hope. No chance of survival.
My fate is currently being debated by the city council. I'm the most problematic issue they've had to discuss in years. The entire city is divided in opinion. Not on whether I should live or not. No, everyone seems to agree death is my consequence. The debate is on how I should be killed. My guess is, they'll decide on the most brutal torture they can come up with.
I go back to biting my nails.
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