Day 5: He knew he was going to die

Hazmat suits at Polesden Lacey, Lex McKee, flickr

He knew he was going to die because he couldn’t survive his suicidal ideations in the Land of Sun Rising where aberrant beliefs and dysfunctions were penalized with enforced labor and death. Had he successfully killed himself, his name would have been cursed forever and according to the state religion, his soul would continually tread on a burning wheel.

I agreed to take the fall, killing him, but with belladonna, often not detected though the state had become vigilant to the point of absurdity. Even shedded skin cells could supposedly be examined for anger, despair, murderous intent, though some of us knew this up-to-date “information” on forensic investigation was likely just another psyop, designed to make us compliant. There were many, however, who had become unable to be critical.

Once the requisite time for the poisoning had completed its course, I checked his apartment for the horrible evidence of his end. Despite myself, I had worried my skin cells may give away motive and so donned a stolen hazmat suit. I called the county so that they may retrieve his body. No one suspected anything. And he was of no importance.

I had no money for a funeral, nor did he. I was able to claim his ashes and spread them in the sea.