Work Text:
“Joshua DiCaprio. On the charge that you, on may 6th 2023… did import into Singapore a Class A controlled drug, namely 200 grams of diamorphine-”
The judge pauses.
“-An offence under Section 7 of the Misuse of Drugs Act, and punishable under Section 33 of the said Act. This court finds you guilty as charged.”
And that’s why i’m here now. On death row. I have just received my 3 day notice. So i should stop procrastinating. A letter for my parents, and a will. I sit on the concrete box the call a bed, and pull out a notebook.
“Mother, father. Don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault. You’ve raised great people. It was my greed that lead me here. If you find it in your heart to forgive me, please collect my body, and bury it with your family. As for my belongings, i ask that you divide it equally between my siblings.”
…Okay, if i had more time, i would’ve written something better. But there is now 71 hours till my death. And i do not function well under pressure. I might just read to calm the nerves
61 hours left of my life. I’ve almost finished my book ln world mythology, and i ate some egg fried rice. God, i hate eggs.
These last days of my life will be in solitary confinement. The only interaction i have is the warden giving me food through a flap on the door. All this to say, i’m bored as hell right now. I don’t want my parents to visit, and i don’t know if they want to see me. My father would probably have a heart attack if he saw me now. Last time he saw me, i wasn’t a scrawny druggy…
48 hours left. I just woke up. My hair is kinda greasy, but i don’t care right now. I’ll get to shower on the final day anyways. A warden comes in. He says mom is on the phone. I can’t refuse now.
“Mom?”
“Joshua…”
“I still love you.”
She doesn’t respond, she just sobs and hangs up. I guess they don’t want to see me…
When i get back to my bathroom-sized room, i can only lie down on my bed. Wondering how life would be if i never fell into this mess. After a daydream (or disassociating) session, i’m pulled back to reality as food is slid inside. Chicken curry!
I remember that days are longer than an hour, so it’s, in fact, not time for bed. I pull out a horror novel, ‘The Buffalo Hunter Hunter.’ A sudden knock startles me.
“What do you want for your final meal?” I am asked. Final meals are not that great, not over here anyways.
“Fried pork.” I respond, knowing it’s do-able.
I continue reading for hours until-
-34 hours. My parents come to visit. To my surprise, they both hug me. I guess they wanted to visit after all.
After they leave, i have a breakdown. I cry so hard i feel like i’m about to throw up. Luckily i don’t. After calming my breathing and pacing around, i just go to sleep.
24 hours left. It is 5AM right now, and tomorrow morning, is the day. Time goes slowly, as i have nothing to do. I can hardly eat my food, because my stomach is cringing at everything. All i can do is mope. All there is to do is lay in bed all day.
The last day.
It’s 5:30AM. I just showered and changed into clean prison clothes. The warden asks if i’m ready, and i just say yes. We walk down the hall to a dark room with a noose and a trapdoor. The hangman looks about as tired as me. They tie my hands and feet, put a sack over my head, and the noose around my neck. The trapdoor beneath me falls. I no longer breathe, i can’t see, feel, hear, smell or taste anything.