Nebraska prison was cold and it almost felt abandoned. Life felt slow, like all the cabinets stacked on cabinets and tables stacked on tables were a plastic, fake version of reality. A trap you could easily avoid with just common sense alone. But is was sickly true. You know what had happened here a few months back. Jeffrey Meteny’s failed execution, how his daughter and family have bravely escaped his antics. Why the hell were you doing this? Curiosity was seriously gonna kill you, you could sense it.

Eventually, within the time you have spent strolling through the disgusting, musky-smelling complex building, wavering your way through the halls cautiously, you reach the basement of the prison. A dark room, with a shockingly large blood stain that dragged along the floor down the hall. It smelt almost moist down here, like wet concrete, a hospital, and warm blood mixed into one smell. It was awful, but that’s when you heard it, humming from a room further into the basement, it was a familiar, and iconic tune.