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Crime and Punishment

by Jonathan Hill
Originally published by on 12/07/2016

I sit here in my prison. As soon as the door clanged shut I sensed I’d not get out alive. Various obscenities cover the walls, the bored and misspelt scrawling of previous occupants. My ears prick up. Noises. The shushing from lips, the softness of carefully-placed footsteps, the ever so quiet shutting of a door. I committed the crime and now I must face my punishment.

I sit here, trousers and underpants (name stitched into both) around my ankles. Two acne-encrusted faces appear above me, either side of the cubicle.

“You grassed on us,' one says.

The other: “You’re dead.'

Jonathan Hill Merits

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