Fanfic Bootcamp

Entry Two - Specialist: Niall Horan on death row

He still couldn't believe that this was actually happening. The shackles around his ankles and his wrists told him otherwise, while he was being led towards the room.

Every step seemed to get harder, as he was literally walking to his death.

We won't harm her when you admit to this, Niall remembered them saying whilst pointing a loaded gun at his head. We won't harm her when you'll be put on death row.

Niall shuddered thinking back on that moment. He had believed that they would have killed his wife if he hadn't told the world how he, in a moment of true desperation, had killed the Queen of England.

They'd believed him right away, when he entered the London police station with a gun in his hand, screaming how he killed that old tart on the throne. He was thrown on the ground, surrounded by at least a dozen policemen with their guns out, screaming for him to get down.

He hadn't killed the queen. The men abducting his wife had. Terrorist of some sort, he believed. He did not even own a gun or ever shot with one, he just waved around with the one the terrorists had given to him. Not that the MI6 cared. They were all glad their asses weren't on the line anymore. They had thrown him in one of the worsts prisons of England, where he had endured the worst kind of abuse by his fellow inmates.

And here he was, his last supper not yet cold in his stomach, on his way to his conviction where he'd be put down with a lethal injection. One that wasn't merciful, he had been informed.
He was sweating bullets, slowly getting visible on his light gray sweats. His breathing became ragged, slowly turning into hyperventilation if he'd not be careful. The guards didn't respond.
They couldn't care less if he'd die of a stress-induced heart-attack or by an injection. All they cared for was his upcoming death.

Niall tried to calm himself. He had to, he had to be calm for her. He didn't know where she was, or how she was doing. All he knew that once he'd be dead, they'd let her free. He couldn't think of a more noble way to die than for someone he truly loved.

They opened the door for him and pushed him through. All Niall had eyes for was the chair. He swallowed, his breathing even more unstable.

While the men removed the shackles and strapped him to the chair, he noticed they weren't alone: a pastor and a doctor were there. Niall swallowed again, trying to force the enormous lump down his throat, failing miserably.

The pastor didn't take long. The moment the doctor took out the syringe, was the moment he started to panic. He couldn't die, not yet!

Pop, pop, pop. Niall's eyes open in horror, he stared at the gun held by a man in black, now pointing the gun at Niall's face. No!