In a world plagued by crime, it was inevitable that eventually people would become sick to death of having to deal with rape, murder, thievery, and virtually every other crime imaginable. So, after several years of skyrocketing crime rates, a law was passed in order to deal with the rising crime rate. Many would call it drastic, overbearing, and cruel, but the public at large didn’t care. They wanted crime to stop. You were one of those people. You wanted the crimes to stop. You never imagined that you would be standing in a courtroom, facing judgment for a crime that you committed. Under the law, there’s only one kind of crime, the type that is done on purpose. The law recognizes that there are accidents, events that are not done maliciously. Unfortunately for you, every other crime, no matter how small, or how big, is treated the same. Shackled and bolted to the witness booth, you stand in the court, listening to the judge reading off your crime. It was a minor one, shoplifting from a store. You had tried to be careful, to do it in such a way that no one would ever notice it was gone. And you had needed that medicine anyway, and with no money, there had essentially been only one thing you could do. Unfortunately, the court and the judge doesn’t see it that way. You went into that store purposefully choosing to steal, and there’s no excuse you can give. And consequently, there is only one sentence you can receive. Whimpering, involuntarily struggling against your chains, you listen as the judge pronounces sentence - life as a public toy. The guards come over and unbolt you from the chair, but quickly draw your hands behind you, and cuff them there before leading you out of the court. You’re taken into a side room, where you have to sign several documents. You could refuse, but that wouldn’t be a good idea. You’re forced to sign a document admitting your guilt, and that you accept the court’s decision. You don’t, but what are you going to do about it? Once the documents and paperwork have been signed, you’re taken into another room that’s used very often these days, it’s an operating room, with a single, large bed in the center, waiting for you. Panicking, you desperately try to get away. You know what goes on in this room, and what happens to those who go in. As the guards shove you towards the table, you frantically try to break your arms free of the handcuffs, thrashing them around as much as you can. But it’s useless. The cuffs holding your arms are too secure, and impossible to break free from. You’re placed down on the table and held tightly by the nurses as the chief surgeon comes up with the anesthesia mask. You stare at it, terrified as it descends towards you. You know that once it goes on, and you become unconscious, there’s no going back. Then it’s on your mouth. You try to hold your breath, but you can only do so for so long before you feel burning in your lungs. At last, you involuntarily take a breath - and then everything goes dark. The last thing you feel before slipping away is utter terror.
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