[ WP ] I could see it in their hooded glances and practiced smiles .

The jury was going to vote, `` guilty.'' I could see it in their hooded glances and practiced smiles as they filed into the court room, one by one. Bile rose to the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down quickly. The jury was going to vote, `` guilty,'' and I was going to be sentenced to death. 
 
 Sentencing was still a while away, of course, but it was plain to the entire country that the death penalty would follow for my crimes, if I was convicted. 
 
 And I was already convicted and sentenced according to the stories the media told. `` The Devil of the East Coast burned by the prosecution!'' 
 
 `` AJ Tanner sweating the trial of the century...'' 
 
 `` Tanner under fire in arson case.'' 
 
 The news was so unoriginal. Really, who wanted to make a profit off of the arson of a hospital? 
 
 Everyone grew quiet as the judge returned to her seat. My lawyer reached over and gripped my hand. But I was n't paying attention to anything in front of me. I was reading the jury's faces. 
 
 *Hate*, I saw. *Disdain*. 
 
 It was the same as when I set fire to that hospital. Everywhere I looked, hooded gazes and fake, practiced smiles. Everyone knew I was going to hell. They'd known since the day I was born. And they always looked at me like I was disgusting to them - a rogue piece of trash someone forgot to throw away. 
 
 So for one glorious moment, I brought hell to the earth. I stood in the hallways and watched the flames eat away at the walls, spewing out smoke faster than they destroyed them. I smelled the smoke, but more than that, too: the fear of the people running past, their burnt clothes, burning hair, and burning flesh. Every few seconds there was another scream - some of fear, some calling for help, and some of unimaginable pain. I felt the flames, too. They crawled up my clothes, licked away my skin and bit into my nerves, sending pain racing through my whole body. 
 
 I was n't supposed to be saved. I was supposed to die, like the 13 others that did. Instead, I was listed along with 47 others that were injured. 
 
 Just like everyone I'd met since I was a child, I knew I would go to hell. I was okay with dying. I hoped I would get the death sentence. What really frightened me was the prospect of going to prison, where people would be waiting with hooded glances and practiced smiles, waiting for the `` Devil of the East Coast,'' who had killed mothers and children with his fire and brimstone. 
 
 I knew I would go to hell, but I wanted it to be like it was in the hospital: I was in control. Not at the mercy of damaged, illogical, emotional *people*. 
 
 The sudden silence of the court room gripped my attention, and I looked up. 
 
 `` Has the jury reached a verdict?''
