The first piece in my ‘Write Something Each Day’ project for 2017.
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“That confession isn’t going to write itself,” she sneered. “Get on with it.”
She was very close behind him speaking in an almost whisper. He could feel her hot breath on his neck. It was almost erotic.
He sat at a small wooden desk, the only furniture in the room other than the metal-framed chair he sat on. On the desk was a thin pad of lined A4 paper, a desk lamp and nothing else. In his left hand, hovering over the blank page, he held a pencil.
She was still behind him.
His arm jerked backwards and the pencil found its mark embedding itself a good few inches into her left eye. An “Oh!” of surprise escaped from her lips and seconds later she fell with a thud to the floor. He looked around. Blood had started to seep around the pencil obscenely jutting out of her left eye. The right eye was wide open in surprise.
It took a moment for the watchers behind the one-way window to realise what had just happened. They sprang into action and burst into the room, two of them manhandling him to the floor and tying his hands with plastic restraints. He offered no resistance. They lifted him up and marched him out of the room.
The remaining watchers stared at the corpse at their feet. A dark red halo had collected around its head, fed by the blood pulsing from the left eye socket with its pencil decoration.
In his cell, still cuffed, he allowed a flicker of a smile to cross his lips. “I confess,” he whispered to no-one.
David Simons © 2017