Buried Alive

         Three days ago, I was buried alive in a makeshift coffin, in the middle of Arizona’s desert.  My luck finally ran out.  Today, I realized, no one is coming to save me.  I am gonna die here.  In this shallow grave, enveloped by blinding darkness, with the stench of dirt and my own waste.  My mouth is dry.  Sores and cracks split my lips.  Breathing is hard.  I can taste the ammonia in the stale air.  My throat burned from days of screaming for help that I knew now, would never come.  With no water or food, all my energy’s gone. I just laid here; breathe slowing as I stare into the darkness. My time was truly up.  My broken, wounded hands, mangled from trying to escape, can barely rise.  My left hand rests on my chest, with my sports watch in my hand, so I could check the time.  I could feel the life draining from me with every breath I took.  Yet, the only thing I could think of was, how I deserve this. I deserve to die, just like this.  For all those lives, I have taken, murdered in cold blood.  This is my end, my hell.