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He was counting the weeks he had spent alone in his cell and out in the field, now today was finally it. John waited patiently for the voice that would soon call his name.
He already came to terms with the knowledge that he was going to die; he could do nothing more than accept that. The hope that someone would come back for him left a while ago. He knew they weren’t looking or trying to get him out; they left him. And now it was too late, even if anyone wanted to. Soon they would call his name, and that would be it. And if he had to admit it, he was fucking terrified. Not more so the pain he would have to face, but to actually die. He was used to the feeling of thinking he would die, but now he actually would. He just wondered sometimes if anyone thought of him, already partly knowing the answer to that.
It was so cold and lonely now, just a matter of time until John met the moment his life would end. He would kill to feel the gentle touch of another human being with him or next to him. Not like he hadn’t been to jail before; he had his fair share of nights alone in a cell, but the difference was he knew death was right around the corner. All he could do was just sit with the echo of his own voice, only being able to see proper sunlight when he went out to work.
As he got here and got more dissociated with reality, all the good memories came to his head — ones which he had forgotten before. The night they celebrated for getting Jack back, and it was also one of the last interactions he had with Arthur was when he kissed him, as a sort of thanks for helping him save Jack. That must not have meant anything to Arthur as he didn’t care enough to save him. Now that memory just circled his head repeatedly every night, a constant cycle that had to be played before he went to sleep every night, trying to relive the euphoric feelings he desperately wanted to feel again, an attempt to replace the fear.
He sat for a few more minutes, or maybe it was an hour, he wasn’t sure of what time even was anymore.
“Marston.” He heard one of the guards voices, haunting and demanding — knowing exactly what he was here for.
Well, this was it. This was about to leave his 'son’ fatherless once again, and his family. Though they had been for the past month. And the last time he left, it was a choice. Now it wasn’t. He regretted many things, but he regretted not stepping up and being a father the most. John looked down at his hands, a final look at himself and the mess he had created.
After picking himself up from the uncomfortable bed — if you could call it that — he went towards the man, immediately getting the cuffs around his hands tightly. He could see the other cells down in the hallway as the two guards held him in place either side while they walked. He tried to walk slowly, which they noticed and just forced him to walk at a normal pace. It felt like he was walking for hours, each turn just brought along another row of cells. Until finally, they came up to what he assumed was the room where his life would be taken.
He was still mad at him, and it made it worse, but he imagined Arthur next to him sometimes. Holding him, telling him that it would be alright and that someone would come soon, only for him to realize where he actually was. After everything, Arthur didn’t love him, and he felt stupid for thinking he did. How he wished he was there to fix up his wounds this time, and to help him clean them up. The only other choice was to accept it, and all he could do to make it easier was stop daydreaming about the man who didn’t even care enough to save him, and just continue to tell himself that it would be okay and that soon he would have to face the reality of his consequences, whether he liked it or not. It was his own karma. He wouldn't change.
They opened the doors and basically dragged him in there. It was a room with a small window at the top for just a glimpse of sunlight — as if to tempt you with the last bit of freedom — but it was bigger than the cell he stayed in. It had to be. There was nothing more than a gallow, stairs that led up to a wooden base, which held two vertical poles distanced from each other, and then a horizontal one with a slight indent in the middle to hold the rope, and then a lever. Two other officials waited at the top.
“On you go now.” The guard forced him forward and up the stairs, he did so, not resisting, there was no point in fighting it. He stood there looking at the wood below, and it wasn’t long before he felt the rope being thrown around his neck.
As they put the noose around his neck, it didn’t even feel like this was real, like this was actually happening, all he felt was numbness. He wanted it to be over as quick as possible, a part of him wished they just did it right now, instead of waiting the few minutes for him to process what was happening to him.
It felt like this was deserving, it was how he was meant to die years ago, and now it caught up to him, as it always does. Death caught up to him, and it was going to win. A punishment, one he wouldn’t be able to escape. He wouldn’t be able to say the things he wanted to say to Arthur, Abigail, or even Dutch — tell him about all the shit he has put him through. He knew none of them cared enough to rescue him, he didn’t want to believe it, but he had to. This life meant nothing anymore.
They looked at him for a moment, making sure everything was right and there wasn't a way John could get out of it or possibly survive. Then he was met with one of the officials' gaze.
“Nothing you’d like t’say?” He heard the guard speak, and as he did, his own breathing became quick — different from the calmer pattern that was normal to him a minute ago. His heart sped up, and it came to him, he was really about to die. He imagined what would be waiting for him, pure nothingness or some hell. Whatever it was, he would soon find out. He thought for a minute if he wanted to say anything.
John shook his head. There wasn’t anything to say anymore, and not much he could say, he wasn’t about to beg for mercy upon his life. It was for the better, there was a reason nobody came. He didn’t blame them for not doing so. John being hung was for the better, with all the trouble he caused. That was just the way things should be.
Eyes were taken off him, and he took his final breaths and waited for the moment they would pull the lever.
He felt deep regret for not changing something sooner when he could. He wondered if Arthur even cared to look for him, or if he didn’t at all. He probably didn’t. As seen, he was already sick of John’s shit with having to save him multiple times before, this was his lesson. Arthur saved him too much. Now, Arthur didn’t care. If he did, he would have come. But he didn’t.
He lost his balance, feeling the rope dig into his neck and it became more difficult to breathe. It was an instantaneous flicker of pain which felt like more than just a second, until nothing but a flicker of light, then pitch black hit him. This was the end of his life — his pathetic cowardly life that meant nothing to anyone other than him.