My veiny hands convulsed as I made my way up to the blood stained concrete platform. With every step, my feet grew heavier as did my dread. I didn't meet the accusing eyes as I walked behind him. I knew what they would say, what they would plead. That's the rookie mistake all executioners make when it's their turn. It's something about the eyes that make you want to act more human. They can tell you an unspoken story that has gone on for years and years.

I knew nothing of his name, nor his family or his crime. We were not allowed to when it was our turn to commit our civil “duty”. Once you turn 18 years old you were put into the system for the Punishings, that's what they called it now, that took place when a crime had been committed. By citizens being able to carry out these verdicts, it made all violence almost vanish. But that again was not 100 percent true just like everything the government said.

They never called what we did murder which is what made many think it was okay. If you didn't label something as murder was it even murder in the first place? Ask anyone on the street and they would say they love the Punishings it made America better. Yeah if you think mass murder committed by citizens is making America better then, by all means, proceed with what you're doing.

I made the mistake of glancing at the man for a brief second as I tighten the ropes on his hands. But the image burned into my skull clouding my judgment. His eyes were filled with salty tears as he mouthed one word, killer. It should have enraged me him calling me such a thing but I knew it was true. There was no point in denying it, not to him not to anyone.

I grabbed the ax from beside me and readied myself behind the man. He slumped down causing two guards to come out of the shadows and hold him upright. Anxiety built up inside of me, the crowd was cheering me on and calling the criminal vulgar names.

I drew the axe upwards giving the signal the execution was starting. Everyone stopped, hell maybe even time did as well. No one breathed a word as my axe came crashing down banging against the concrete floor as it collided with it. BANG BANG BANG, the sound echoed throughout the park. The criminal stood up staring at himself in amazement, gazing down at the ropes I had just cut from his wrists.

I picked up the ax taking in the crowd and gave them one more dazzling smile for the road before I turned to the criminal. “I believe it is your turn,” I said to him as I dropped to my knees. Closing my eyes I had never felt so at peace before this moment. And just like that the axe came down and I was-