“One.”
Through the basket's holes, I see blood spurting out my lifeless body. Looking away, I see executioners' boots. Then darkness, everywhere.
“Two.”
I hear jeers as another prisoner is dragged up the steps shouting, “I'm innocent!”
“Three.”
I taste sweat in the hair from another head against my tongue, feel a chin poking my cheek. I scream “Why?!!?” but lips move soundlessly.
“Four.”
I killed The Count for ravaging my wife. No trials for Serfs here. I could've escaped.
I just needed more time.
“Five.”