The last
boy, still screaming and bleeding, looked out into the audience of brands,
locking eyes with as many of us as possible as he screamed over and over “WE
WILL RISE AGAIN! WE WILL RISE AGAIN! WE WILL—” But then, like slicing
through the skin of a sausage casing, an Intel punctured his chest with a
knife, dragging it down through his flesh until it reaches his navel. But he
wasn’t dead yet, screaming in agony as they begin to tear out his organs and
throw them to the ground, all while the brands around him boo and hiss. His
eyes fluttered shut as his head slumped to his chest, the audience standing and
applauding his death.
Public
executions are designed to be remembered—letting any potential rebel know what
will happen to them if they disobey The Tower’s government.
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