Life Sentence

He slouched lazily in his chair, guards positioned on standby. A slow grin spread across his face, and even through his muzzle, fangs flashed to the jury. This was the most emotion he had shown in longer than he could remember. His eyes drooped, the type that desired sleep, as he had already been awake more than five lifetimes. More than twenty counts of murder were under his belt already.

He no longer spilt blood for the sustenance, but to feel alive again. Life didn't matter. Nothing mattered to him anymore. Numbness was all he felt. Each day was empty. The motions of life were worth nothing. All he wanted was the agony in each of his victim's faces. Death required a great amount of pain, a reminder that they were alive before they left the mortal world.

He thought this would be the way out. They would take his life for him. He was too much of a coward to do it himself. He would finally be free from the cell he lived in. But the judge could see past his façade. She could see past his nonchalant demeanor. She wouldn't give him what he wanted. His sentence was to live.

A guttural scream left his mouth as she sentenced him to life in prison.