Choices

Chapter 1

"How do you plea?"

"Guilty."

The gasps were more audible than the judge, that they drowned him out to a mere whisper.

"Megan Layla Owen, the court sentences you to death for - "

That's the point I surrendered to sound, every word from the judge falling on deaf ears and I'm sure that is how a few others felt after the mention of the word 'death'.

I barely felt the tight shackles as I left the courtroom to be taken back to my cell.

Of course the security guards took me on the scenic route through the crowd of threats, with rocks being thrown and the flashing of cameras going off. The buzzing reporters wanting to get the scoop of a lifetime and all I was looking for was him.

But he never showed.

Not once after the three years of all my court appearances or a visit to the prison, not a letter or a phonecall.

I shut my eyes tightly as another rock collides with my already swelling face, I feel the warmth trickle down my face and I welcome it.

Afterall, I won't feel anything ever again by tomorrow.

Sucking in a deep breath, reminding myself why I am here. It does get difficult, but no one needs to know that. As long as they all view me as Megan the Mass Murderer - a title that was shoved in my face by one of the victim's father- then I will face my death with open arms.

Three years ago today, I was arrested for the suspected 507 brutal deaths, as the court explained, and today they sentenced my fate.

Flashback

"How much do you love him?"

"There is no measure to answer you."

"Will you die for him?"

Her dirty blond hair swayed in the autumn breeze, her pale blue eyes looked down at me with utter hatred as she smears away the crimson from her split lip.

The question wasn't even cold before the sounds of sirens rang in the air and the spotlight of a chopper trapped me in my place.

Over the loud noise from the police vehicles and the blades rotating above me from the chopper, I heard the megaphone.

"Megan, surrender yourself, do not attempt to flee, we have you surrounded."

I barely had time to register the tackle from behind, my chin grazing on the asphalt and hearing my rights being read to me, my wrists tightly thrust into handcuffs.

Roughly being slung up and thrown against the vehicle, as I was searched for any hidden weapons or substances. Shasta, the dirty blond girl, merely sneered at me, her phone held high as the entire moment was captured for the world to see.

Finally after being searched thoroughly, my head was held down and forcefully thrown into the back of the police vehicle.

I looked out the barred window and saw him, I couldn't read his emotions and I saw Shasta bound up to him and grab him in a fierce hug, turning him away from my view.

Not once did I put up a fight, not once did I speak. As the vehicle sped past the dense fields of trees and shrubs, a single tear slid down my pink cheeks and dripped from my grazed chin onto the handcuffs that lay resting on my lap.

End of Flashback

That was the last day I saw him and evidently that was the last day my tongue uttered a word, until today, when I had announced my guilt.

Looking to my left before I was thrown into the back of the police van, I saw the strands of dirty blond hair and a pair of pale blue eyes. Shasta stood there, unmoving, not joining in the crowd with all forms of abuse.

My gaze fixed on her and she mouthed three words that seemed even more surreal than my destined death tomorrow.

I believe you.

The black steel doors shut me off from the world, from the person that put me here. The van drove off and I continued to hear the marches of those that seek my blood for about five blocks before we were out of range from them.

The three security guards, two next to me and one in front of me, with their dark helmets and their batons in hand, ready to strike if I so much as sneeze. I had personally named them Tom, Dick and Harry for my own amusement.

Being locked up for so long, and only ever getting out for one of the countless court dates, I had used those drives as time wasters to memorise my route to and from the prison.

I am shocked how quickly I was sentenced to death row, those type of convictions takes years. However, with the amount of high profile people that had their noses in my case, I'm certain a bribe or more had to do with it.

The turn to the prison was just up ahead.

Except, the turn never came, we just continued straight and took a sudden right turn with the speed climbing higher than normal. The radio was switched on and a broadcast was blaring through the speakers.

Now I know this isn't field trip day.

My heart began to thunder within my ribcage, a movement that didn't even happen when I was sentenced to death.

I looked at each security guard and they were all staring at me, Tom, the security guard on my right lifted himself and went to the front, speaking in hushed tones to the driver.

Dick, the security guard in front of me pulled out a dark grey duffel bag and began to unzip it. Pulling out a gun, zipties, clothes and a folded body bag.

Harry on my left, he continued to stare at me, and if I could see his eyes, I'm sure I'd be even more nervous than what I was feeling now. With his baton in hand, I saw him lift his arm and within a blink of my eye, strike me across the head. The blow causing an immediate headache and had me reeling backwards.

"Idiot, turn the stick around!" Dick shouted at Harry, his words ringing in my ears and I look over to Harry flipping his baton and striking me again, with a more forceful blow.

This time successfully causing my vision to darken before having my head lull forwards, the impact of my body falling onto the van's floor unfelt as I drink in the unconsciousness.