I don't want anybody to suffer anymore. Nobody has to experience a life filled with sorrow, but many did including me. Now I stand here, choosing whether this kid going to die or not .
My dad died before I was born into this cruel world on November 25th, 1879 in the rich district of the New York City. We were poor, so our life there was harsh. I raised by a single mother with her little employments here and there. She sacrificed so much for me and I failed to accomplish it. My life at school was as horrendous , beat up every day by the bullies, yelled by the teacher because I'm poor. To her exhaustion and sickness, my mother passed when I was 20. Do you know how I feel, how lonely I am? I have no family or friends nor a will to live anymore. I just ran away, as far as I could, wish that I just fall down and die somewhere along the road.
Out of nowhere, I ran into a young beautiful woman, which later became my wife. She helped me realize that my life isn't over yet, I still have one left, it's her. Despite the fact that we don't have any kid, life…show more content… I know that most of the juror will vote guilty because the way they complained about the boy. They did, so I vote guilty because I have no proof against them, just a mere thought. All jurors have raised their hand to put this boy to death except one, Juror 8. He strongly stands up, alone, against all 11 of us. Eighth tries to get us talk, he tries to make us think because he knows that the case had something wrong, a doubt. He's sorts of remind me of my wife somehow, maybe because the way he talks against all of us, urge me to bring out my own. Juror 8 fights but no support, he seems like just a bug to all the jurors except me, I am enjoying it. The second vote was secretly cast and now is the chance that I let my fear go and face what I think is the right thing to do. I will speak for what I
