Oddball

Intro

  If, at the time, someone had asked fifteen year-old Blake Summers if he knew that he was different, he probably would have furrowed his brow and asked what the hell they were talking about. Then, just like any other teenage boy, he would have probably given a puzzled look, rolled his eyes and walked away. The person that had asked the question, upon seeing Blake’s reaction, would be left to then question his or her own suspicions about him. 

  Blake, if he had been asked that question, would have appeared to be genuinely confused. However, he was not. He may have been marginally confused at fifteen, but he was not confused now, at twenty-six years old, lying on his back on the frigid stainless steel slab that was housed only in the execution chamber. Strapped in with reinforced restraints on his knees, wrists, ankles and chest, he listened intently to the computers whirs and beeps as they monitored his constant, slow vitals. 

  No, Blake Summers was not confused. Nor was he hysterical, angry or any other emotion for that matter. He was completely blank. This strange attribute appeared to really rattle people’s cages during the trial. Throughout the whole six-month trial, Blake took the stand twice, spoke once, and did not express remorse, or much else, at all.