Page 212 - The Houseguest

and having it all amount to nothing but agony was more than he could bear. He had even begun to resent the sister he loved so much for reintroducing him to hope. Hope, for someone like him, only equated to disappointment.
He had waited until early that morning to take full advantage of his secluded surroundings, knowing that his cellmate Bill would certainly thwart any efforts he made to end his life. After considering all his options, there was only one viable -- suspension hanging. Though a drop hanging would unquestionably be less agonizing triggering an immediate neck break, the unit had been designed with that in mind as the ceiling provided no weight bearing structure to tie his improvised death device. He had twisted and wrapped the only sheet provided for him into a makeshift rope with a noose, using a running knot that would tighten when taut, securing the other end to the corner of the base that supported the slab they called a bed. Kneeling with both knees together and his feet suspended in the air, he dropped forward, lifting his arms to his chest. The bedframe was so low, his nose grazed the cold gray floor he stared upon as he took his last breaths. In 14 seconds, he became unconscious. As he’d planned, the guard made the discovery in the morning when it was too late to revive him. The medical staff’s estimate, pending the coroner’s confirmation, was ligature compression of the jugular veins resulting from the inmate's own actions.
The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life
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