The Wages of Sin

“Our next top story — local son of late aristocrats, Marion Worick, will stand trial today for the murder of his former therapist. Though Worick has refused to provide a motive for the crime, authorities believe he may have been suffering withdrawals from RabbitHole, a popular designer drug. Since the murder, ongoing efforts to legalize the drug have halted, sparking widespread discourse among the community. Additionally—”

Click

“Damn brat,” the gruff man in the driver's seat spat after shutting off the radio. “Why don't ya just tell ‘em why ya did it, eh? Save everyone the damn trouble…”

In the back of the transport van, Marnie clenched the pantlegs of his orange jumper. He hadn't spoken since getting arrested in the alleyway; he couldn't bring himself to. Everything had gone bad so fast, Marnie felt like he had no more words to offer the world.

At this point, nothing he could say mattered.

Hold on, little rabbit, Chez spoke from the seat beside Marnie. His voice, the solemn expression on his face, the crisp swishes and flicks of his tail — all of it was as clear and obvious as the van they were sitting in, albeit only to Marnie's eyes.

It will all be over soon.

Over soon… That's all Marnie wanted out of this mess, for it all to just end. Guilt consumed his very being, and confusion twisted his brain into knots. Nightmares kept sleep at bay every night, suits who could never understand what he was going through prodded him endlessly with questions, and the only thing that brought him any form of comfort teased his already irreparable sense of reality.

Marnie felt crushed under the weight of his own inability to function. How sweet it would be if everything could just end…

Getting arrested and everything afterwards felt like a blur. From what Marnie could understand, he was held in a sort of solitary medical ward of the prison while awaiting trial. While there, medical professionals tried to examine and treat him, all to no avail. His distant relatives appointed him an expensive attorney, but with Marnie refusing to speak, all the attorney could do was string together a weak plea of insanity.

Chez never once left Marnie's side through it all, and although his words were often cryptic and enigmatic, they still felt more trustworthy than anything from anyone else. It all felt so pointless.

The trial went pretty much as Marnie had expected. It was undeniable that he'd committed the murder, but that didn't make it understandable to anyone. Because they couldn't understand it, people made hurtful comments, sobbing and jeering in the courtroom as much as they were allowed to do so. His attorney argued that it was the drug’s fault, but with Marnie refusing to testify even when forced to sit on the stand, his defense didn't go very far. The prosecution was all too willing and able to seem Marnie a simple monster.

What a circus, Chez remarked, watching the trial from Marnie's side. Did they really need justice as an excuse to perform such a mockery?

Marnie chuckled, an action which only served to make matters worse. Not that he cared. He was well aware that all roads led to Rome for him, and with the swift, booming swing of a gavel that “Rome” was finalized.

“The defendant, Marion Worick, is found guilty of all charges, including murder in the second degree. Due to the unstable nature of the defendant, and his refusal to cooperate with rehabilitative care, Mr. Worick is hereby sentenced to death by lethal injection.”

Chez whistled with awe, but Marnie didn't protest. He didn't have the strength to.

As he was transported back to prison and awaited carrying out his sentence, some people tried to protest on his behalf. Marnie supposed the sentencing was in some way unusual — that he was being made an example of — but he still couldn't care less about it. What good would his living do, anyway? With the state he was in, Marnie couldn't even consider himself to be living in the first place. He could barely even call it existing.

How odd you are, to be relieved at your own demise.

Chez taunted Marnie, even in the last moments the tormented daydreamer had before facing his death. Then, after staying by his side all this time, as they were preparing to bring Marnie into the execution chamber, Chez vanished. All Marnie could bring himself to do was chuckle. After all, it was so very like Chez to do that.

Coldly and methodically, Marnie was brought into a dismally sterile room. It looked more like some sort of viewing room than what one would imagine an execution chamber to look like, including a massive window that faced a small set of spectator seats. Right in front of the window was an uncomfortable looking cot, where the executioners strapped Marnie down for all to see.

Somewhere behind the static of apathy, Marnie felt sickeningly amused by the fact that his death was being treated as a spectacle.

As the executioners prepared the injection, he watched the witnesses file into the room. On the victim's side of the room, nearly every seat was filled with June Berry's mourning loved ones. Some were still crying over her murder, others were scowling and leering at Marnie like he was some sort of wicked demon.

In a way, he couldn't blame them. He was also still grieving over the mess he'd made, and on some level he did hate himself for it. Yet, Marnie still couldn't kick the feeling that it was all unfair. Couldn't anyone at least acknowledge that he never meant for any of this to happen? Didn't anyone consider that he might be struggling just as badly as they were?

Marnie supposed he couldn't expect such sympathy.

Unsurprisingly, the side of the room for his loved ones was completely empty. Not a soul bothered to see him off in his final moments, not even his distant relatives. Typical.

Just as Marnie took a deep breath and accepted the loneliness falling upon him, the witness room door opened again. Watching it curiously, his eyes widened upon seeing the figure that entered the room.

It was Chris.

The only person in the entire world who came to support Marnie in his final moments was Chris. The toned blonde man was dressed in a flattering suit, awkwardly making his way to sit in one of the first row chairs. His brown eyes were red and puffy, like he'd been crying, betraying the optimistic smile he flashed to the officer that showed him in. When his eyes locked with Marnie's through the window, that smile faltered, yet he still gave a small wave.

Chris was trying to be brave, for Marnie's sake. At that moment, he looked like he could burst into tears, but he was holding it back, trying to be strong for his friend. All at once, emotions flooded Marnie, like he could start bawling at any second. He didn't deserve for the last thing he saw to be Chris’ smiling face.

“We're ready,” one of the executioners said. “Any final words, Mr. Worick? This is your last chance.”

Final words… After not speaking for so long, Marnie's throat almost hurt just thinking about it. What would he even say? June's mourners probably hoped for a confession, some sort of guilty plea, or at least an apology. Marnie supposed June herself deserved that, but not these people. All they really wanted was to watch him suffer — to witness his punishment for his sins.

Such holier than thou mentalities made Marnie sick. If anyone deserved anything from him, it was the man sitting there and offering Marnie kindness despite all the harm that was done.

“Y… ye…ah…” Marnie answered the executioner, to their great surprise. His voice was a bit hoarse, forcing him to clear his throat before locking eyes with Chris.

“Thank you…for everything, Chris. I hope…we'll meet again in the next life. Until then…please…don't feel bad on my account.”

Marnie chuckled, feeling the tears start to leak out the corners of his eyes. Chris chuckled back while the other witnesses wailed and jeered with detest.

Their outrage didn't matter. Their closure didn't matter. All that mattered was the relieved, hopeful smile on Chris’ face. It was proof that Marnie had at least done something right in his life.

The executioners plunged the needle into Marnie's arm and slowly injected the lethal substance. Marnie let his head relax on the cheap pillow behind him, feeling the chemicals course through his veins. Before long, he started to feel tired. It was hard to keep his eyes open and stay conscious.

This was it. In a few seconds, everything would be over, like resting after a long, hard day.

With a gentle exhale, all of the tension and negativity left Marnie's body. Training his gaze on Chris one last time, he let his eyes slowly flutter shut and melted away into the darkness…