• My heart pumps fast, trying to burst from my chest, as I run down the long

    grey hall lined with vertical bars. I push my aching feet faster and faster, the

    grey bars blurring by. My footsteps echo all around; they're pounding on the

    floor, the walls, the ceiling - as if they're trying to break free of this horrid

    place. The men in dark, ugly orange suits stare at me from behind those grey

    bars, envying my freedom to run through the halls. I hold the important manila

    envelope to my chest as if my life - or someone else's - depended on it.

    I wonder what is in this envelope, I think to myself. He told me to run as

    fast as I could to the room at the end of the hall and take care not to lose the

    envelope. He drilled into my head that I must not lose the envelope

    (that's how I know it must be important). He said that if I were to lose

    that envelope it would be deadly to someone in orange... And then the

    epiphany hit me. But, oh! If I'm right, I'd better run faster! Nearing the end of

    the hall, I hear voices, but I can't tell what they're saying.

    "NO!" I shout. But they just keep talking. I can tell they didn't hear, so I

    just keep screaming that one word over and over, desperate for someone to

    hear. "No! No! No!"

    As I reach the door and burst through, there's a man - long needle in

    hand - straightening up from his crouched position over a man wearing a

    grungy orange jumpsuit.

    They all look at me in utter shock as I gasp, "I have the death row

    pardon."