Ever heard that your life flashes before your eyes when you die?
It’s not true.
Not for me, anyway.
All I’ve seen is death. Not life. Never life.
Case in point: now.
Strapped to an electric chair, my only thoughts the deadly currents that would soon sizzle my skin and fry my organs—one by failing one.
I imagined my heart and brain would be the last to go. The latter, ensuring I’d be completely aware of what was happening to my body until the horrific end.
See? No thoughts of the life I’ve lived at all. Only the death I was about to endure.
To end up in this position, you would think I’d murdered someone. Or a lot of someones.
But you would be wrong.
I didn’t kill anyone, which meant I didn’t deserve to die like this.
No one did.
My breaths came out in sharp pants, and the doctor rolled her chair over to me. “There’s no need to panic.”
Was she crazy? I had every reason to panic. “Please don’t do this,” I whispered.
The doctor reached up and lowered the headpiece over my forehead. The metal was cold against my damp skin, causing me to shiver. “I’m begging you,” I said, my voice louder. Shriller.
Ignoring my pleas, she rolled away. Out of the danger zone. “This should be fairly quick.”
Terror unlike any I’d ever known tore through me. I struggled, twisting and turning, trying to maneuver my way out. Of this headpiece. This chair. This room. This prison. I wanted out.
A scream ripped through my throat. “Stop!”
The doctor held up a switchboard. My fate was literally in her hands.
Shaking all over, for a moment I thought I was already being electrocuted. But then I saw her finger move toward the switch.
I screamed again.
I didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not at all.
I had too much to live for.
Maybe my life did flash before my eyes.