I looked over the files, one at a time. Some were from me, others family of the people I had killed.
A tear escaped my lid and fell onto the hard stone floor, that I called my bed. I got up and went to the door and rested my head on the bars. I was a murderer, and I knew I deserved spending my life in prison, but that didn't make my life any less horrible.
"Solt, Come." A stern voice commanded. I took my hands of the bars and heard the rustling of keys, then the the squeakyness of the door.
Soldier Morde tooke my arm and lead me through the maze of bars and people who had been arrested. People who had done murder, people like me.
Continued On Second Story..