They say you can see your life flash before your eyes just before you die. That's not true. All I see is a greasy warden looking down on me like he's not just as dirty as I am. I see a room filled with the ghosts of killers; I can almost smell their burnt carcasses. I see some pale and sweaty priest reading my last rites.

Maybe he's afraid for me 'cause he thinks I'm not going to heaven. I don't think that--I know it.

They shaved my head before they put the cap on. How many people has this little cap killed, I wonder? The cold metal of it gives me goosebumps. To think, this is the last accessory I'll ever wear. They also put me in a little diaper. I guess they didn't want to have to clean up the mess.

I can still hear that pasty priest droning on with his prayer. I can't help but stare at the cross dangling around his neck. My Watcher always insisted I wear one of those. It protected me from evil, I guess. I never really thought about a God or a Devil, even though I used the symbol of God's power to burn holes in plenty of vampire skulls. That should've at least provoked a little thought on the subject, right?

Wrong. I tell the priest to shut up.

"You're about to die, for the love of Christ," he yells. "Don't you have any fear of Him, even now?" He is scared for me. He sees a little girl, about to breathe her last, biting the loving hand of God. Well, it was the loving hand of God that screwed me over in the first place. It was His hand that pointed to me and picked me to be a Slayer. Hell, it was His hand that killed my dad and left me with a pathetic drunk for a mom. I guess I'll be seeing her soon. I'll be able to tell her how I ended up: just like she said I would.

"He can't be any scarier than the devil," I say, giving him the most obnoxious grin I can give. The priest gives me a look of pure pity. It makes me sick.

I met the devil, a long time ago. He killed my Watcher, even though she was wearing one of those stupid crosses. He mocked her the whole time, humiliated her, made her beg for mercy. She screamed louder than I thought anyone could scream. Then again, I never thought you could get your small intestine pulled out and live. You'd be surprised what you can live through.

The priest just walks away. Killing someone is one thing, but I guess blasphemy is something he just won't tolerate. He can't scare me, with all his talk of Hell and God.

Who am I kidding? I'm scared shitless.

Now I know how Allen must have felt the instant before I stabbed him. I know the sick feeling in Wesley's stomach when he watched me walking towards him with a knife. I know . . .I've killed too many beings to go through the whole list. They may not have all been human, but half of the human race isn't human. Most of them are spineless, greedy, evil creatures like the warden walking up to me. He leans in, eyeing me like I'm less than a person.

"It's a shame that the taxpayers had to feed and clothe you while you were waiting for this. I, for one, won't miss you." He stands straight, looking like he's some kind of big shot. If only he knew that he owes his existence to me. Maybe, if I had let one of those vamps live through their unlucky night, the asshole in front of me would be on a slab with a couple of holes in his neck. Then he wouldn't be such a big shot.

"Fuck you," I say with a sweet smile. The look on his face is priceless. His eyes flare open, all angry like he can do something to punish me, and his shoulders stiffen. What are you going to do to me, big shot? I'm strapped into an electric chair.

My only regret is that this loser is going to be the one who ends it. I've taken down demons so terrifying that they would make him crap himself, and he thinks he scares me.

It's funny. This is the only moment I've had in the last two weeks that I haven't been scared. The hate cancels out the fear. I guess that's why it was so easy for me to hate. The warden nods to the guy with his hand on the switch. The guy nods back and throws the lever.

I've never felt pain like this in my entire life. I can smell my skin sizzle, and it makes me want to heave. Agony shoots through my veins, like fire and brimstone. The fire running its way around my limbs climbs almost as fast as the hatred I can't stop feeling. I hate everyone now. Everyone who ever wanted me to fall flat on my face is laughing at me. I'm not going down like that, like a little bitch kid being beaten by a drunken mom. I'm going down like a warrior. I'm meeting the end head on, like a Slayer should. Even though I'm not really the Slayer, I can act like one.

"Is that all you've got for me, you pussy?" I scream, making sure they can all hear me over the hum of electricity that's turning my brain to goo. "Give it to me, baby! Make me feel it!"

The pain that I thought couldn't get any worse gets worse. I would scream if I wasn't laughing so hard. I would screamed and cry and beg them to stop, but its just too funny. I can still hear that damn priest asking God to have mercy on my soul, but it's to late.

I'm taking that Hellride all by myself. And I'm laughing all the way down.