Standing there you would think he had not a care in the world but in side he was truly dying. His heart was racing faster with each passing glace the people gave him. It was almost as if could taste their contempt and hatred. Their eyes judging him for something he couldn’t help.

They didn’t care, wouldn’t allow themselves too. despite the smirk on his lips he couldn’t have been more terrified. Soft whisper reached his ears, so quiet he could barely make out the words, but oh did he feel it. They wanted his blood on the ground, couldn’t wait for the moment to executioner to pick up his blade and end his life. They prayed upon it with disgusting glee in their eyes.

Oh how he wished he were someone else, wasn’t his fault really, it was instinct after all.