Chocolate Icecream

"My final meal?" I ask, "that seems slightly morbid." The guard shrugs. He doesn't care, I wonder how many inmates he's lead to the chair, how many of them have died just inches from him, his face being the last thing they see.

"I didn't do it." I say, pointing to the menu he has offered me, chocolate ice cream with sprinkles, my last meal should at least taste good. The guard shrugs again, perhaps it is all he is capable of. He stands and exits the room, and I am alone with my thoughts, my many many thoughts.

How did it all go so wrong... I place my heavy head in my hands, I can feel the straps tightening round my wrists, the cap placed over my head, and the pulsing of electricity through my very soul. My hands begin to shake, I clasp them together, but that just makes it worse. I begin to rock backward and forward, breaths coming in short bursts. I gulp and choke I can't think can't breathe, am I dying now? That would be merciful I close my eyes and pray to let it all end, two hands grab my shoulders roughly.

"Be still." A voice demands. I am no longer rocking, my shoulders shake though are restrained well by the guard. I turn round, he lets go of me in disgust.

"What happened?" Another guard calls through the door.

"Panic attack." The guard calls back. Crap, I turn away, I wasn't dying. Though I would be soon.

One thing I've always hated is melted ice cream, pity that is what I am handed. The rainbow sprinkles have combined with the melted cream to give an off grey colour. I shove the bowl away; I couldn’t eat even if I wanted to my stomach contracts at the thought of what is to come.

"If you don’t eat," the guard began, "then you’re up for the Chair."

I nod, I know my fate.

The straps tighten, just like I'd imagined, a blind fold placed over my eyes, rough, scratchy fabric, though I won’t have to feel it for much longer.

Mary Jane, you are sentenced to death found guilty by a jury in the court of American law, for the murders of twenty people, including your own family.

I roll my eyes, despite no one being able to see.

"Get on with it." I yell.

"Ok." I hear someone say. A lever screeches as it is pulled, I feel a buzz, a wave of warmth and a boiling a searing hot pain. My head thrashes form side to side, my torso rocks, my legs which are tied down jiggle violently. I hear the machine shut off.

"Ok let’s get her to the morgue."

Why can I still hear? I feel someone pull the blind fold form my eyes.

"Surprise!" I say.