These Prison Doors (mission_insane - Table #12, Prompt #2: justice)
Title: These Prison Doors
Fandom: LOST
Characters: Benjamin Linus, unnamed man
Prompt: Table #12, Prompt #2 (justice)
Word Count: 511
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Character spoilers, mentions of blood, death, violence, and suicide.
Summary: He's thought about turning himself in to the police a few times.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.
These Prison Doors
He's thought about turning himself in to the police a few times. They'll know what to do with a man like him. They'll end him. They're the only ones who can. No one he knows will end him because they risk too much doing so. He won't end himself because it isn't justice, and there are some people that have been convincing him to believe in it. And he has to leave. He has to. The island is not his anymore and he can never return and he has nothing. And everyone he's loved has gone down in history and left him behind. He has nothing and no one. He has to leave.
So here he stands in front of a prison somewhere. He doesn't know where he is. He only knows where he wants to be. And to get there, he knows that he has to knock on the door. Wait. And speak when spoken to. Just as he's always done. It should be easy, he thinks.
He knocks on the door.
Another man answers the door. Ben doesn't know whether he's a policeman or a guard or anything at all, but he knows that his face bright with anticipation for a decent report and he knows that the darkness will soon take over.
"What can I help you with, sir?" he asks curiously, quickly.
And Ben's thinking, You might not believe me, but I need to be locked up. I'm only human. That's right. I'm only human... Wait. No excuses. That's right. I said no excuses, didn't I? I've killed more people than I can count. I took them from their daughters and their sons and their mothers and their fathers. I gave people a home that they weren't proud of and then set all their dreams on fire after I promised them I would make it better. I watched them all burn. I hired a man to kill all the people I refused to confront myself. Was it out of cowardice? I don't know. But he wanted to change, didn't want to be a killer or a torturer anymore, but I didn't let him change, and that's all that matters. So lock me up. Send me away. Give me the death penalty. I don't care. I don't care.
But he says quietly with a dry voice, "I need a place to stay tonight." And every night after that until there are no more.
The guard blinks in response to the unexpected words. He regains his composure and looks at Ben strangely now, grabs the door, and says harshly, "This is not a hotel. This is a prison. We don't provide shelter for people like you. Good night, sir."
Yes. Yes, you do, Ben wants to shout, but the door slams in his face. And he feels his heart sink because he knows his thoughts and his voice have failed him again.
He roams the streets that night, doesn't ever stay too long in one place. And he never looks straight ahead. Just up and down, up and down.
Fandom: LOST
Characters: Benjamin Linus, unnamed man
Prompt: Table #12, Prompt #2 (justice)
Word Count: 511
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Character spoilers, mentions of blood, death, violence, and suicide.
Summary: He's thought about turning himself in to the police a few times.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.
These Prison Doors
He's thought about turning himself in to the police a few times. They'll know what to do with a man like him. They'll end him. They're the only ones who can. No one he knows will end him because they risk too much doing so. He won't end himself because it isn't justice, and there are some people that have been convincing him to believe in it. And he has to leave. He has to. The island is not his anymore and he can never return and he has nothing. And everyone he's loved has gone down in history and left him behind. He has nothing and no one. He has to leave.
So here he stands in front of a prison somewhere. He doesn't know where he is. He only knows where he wants to be. And to get there, he knows that he has to knock on the door. Wait. And speak when spoken to. Just as he's always done. It should be easy, he thinks.
He knocks on the door.
Another man answers the door. Ben doesn't know whether he's a policeman or a guard or anything at all, but he knows that his face bright with anticipation for a decent report and he knows that the darkness will soon take over.
"What can I help you with, sir?" he asks curiously, quickly.
And Ben's thinking, You might not believe me, but I need to be locked up. I'm only human. That's right. I'm only human... Wait. No excuses. That's right. I said no excuses, didn't I? I've killed more people than I can count. I took them from their daughters and their sons and their mothers and their fathers. I gave people a home that they weren't proud of and then set all their dreams on fire after I promised them I would make it better. I watched them all burn. I hired a man to kill all the people I refused to confront myself. Was it out of cowardice? I don't know. But he wanted to change, didn't want to be a killer or a torturer anymore, but I didn't let him change, and that's all that matters. So lock me up. Send me away. Give me the death penalty. I don't care. I don't care.
But he says quietly with a dry voice, "I need a place to stay tonight." And every night after that until there are no more.
The guard blinks in response to the unexpected words. He regains his composure and looks at Ben strangely now, grabs the door, and says harshly, "This is not a hotel. This is a prison. We don't provide shelter for people like you. Good night, sir."
Yes. Yes, you do, Ben wants to shout, but the door slams in his face. And he feels his heart sink because he knows his thoughts and his voice have failed him again.
He roams the streets that night, doesn't ever stay too long in one place. And he never looks straight ahead. Just up and down, up and down.