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A clock on the wall read 3:14 in the morning. Mohammad looked bedraggled. His eyes shifted left to right and he hung his head and then picked it back up again. A military intelligence specialist working at the Air Force Base in Dover, Delaware, Bianca Blanco stood and waited. She waited for an answer.
“I’m going to ask you this one more time and then this basin right here gets filled with water and I dunk your head in it and hold you down until you expire,” Bianca said. Mohammad rolled his eyes. His hands and feet remained bound behind and to a stainless steel chair, respectively. He faced a small wooden table with just enough room for the basin.
“You... a woman? You haven’t the power to…” Bianca filled up the basin from the faucet. Mohammad’s face turned sour. He stopped his sentence.
“Why did you begin your reign of terror?” Bianca asked.
Mohammad was mum. He bowed his head and began to pray silently.
Bianca’s mind was like a glacier, cold and imposing. Not for a moment did she fret in the presence of this most notorious figure. The basin filled almost to the rim before she cut off the flow.
“You will never get a word from me about why I did anything,” Mohammad said.
“I already know that your images or depictions are prohibited within Islam because they allegedly spark idolatry. But what is it that makes you such an enigmatic figure?”
Bianca moved the water basin closer.
“Okay. Okay. I can answer that,” Mohammad said.
Bianca’s eyes narrowed.
“Because I started off as an aggressive, masculine, and virile man. Unlike Moses, and especially Jesus, I stood for generating wealth, having sex, and the mark of a true revolutionary. That’s why I am the prophet for Allah.”
“But you married a child. Terrorists carry out vicious crimes in your name. The blood of millions of people remain related to what you are,” Bianca said.
Mohammad shrugged. “It is not my fault that the infidels do not understand my ways. I am the one and only Prophet Mohammad!”
“I've comprehended that. You’re going to keep your voice down, do you understand me?”
“Now, I know you’re planning on getting back to bastardizing the world some more. But that, Mo, is not going to happen.”
Mohammad’s lips quivered. “But you can’t. I’ve answered your question. Can’t I go free?”
“No. You are too vile to even be considered for having more breaths of life. What you have done to the world is vicious and horrific. If you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re not getting out of this room alive. ” Bianca positioned Mohammad over the basin of water. He fought against the submersion and inhalation of water. He tried to hold his breath. Huge gasps for air emerged as the prophet’s head bobbed up from the water. Bianca stayed resolute. She kept a firm grip on Mohammad’s neck with her left hand. Without any slack, she held her right hand against his head as well. The basin warped and water splashed but Bianca never let go. Mohammad struggled under the pressure of Bianca’s hands with no way to further sustain his own life. He tried to turn his head to the side. He attempted to leap up from the chair. Bianca thwarted all of these efforts.
“This is for everyone that you murdered and to all of those who engaged in activities like these to praise you. I’m so glad that you’re dying this way. There’s no waterboarding. This is a straight up drowning. And you deserve it,” Bianca said.
Mohammad showed a few last twitches, but ultimately succumbed to this method of death.