My own little secret

Russian Roulette

This is a scene that popped in my head one day so I decided to write it

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"Take your turn, or else I will; you know ALL mine are loaded" His voice was a deep growl that sent shivers of terror down my spine. His lips were touching my ear, whispering no louder then needed for only me to hear, but I felt like he was screaming at me, one second away from taking the life that hangs only by a withering thread.

My hands were shaking to the point that it was hard to bring the heavy black hand gun to my temple. The top of the gun felt cold as ice and made me whimper out in fear. Tears were freely running down my cheeks, my heart was pounding so hard it hurt my chest. I didn't know what to think in the moment that I was holding a gun to my own head, I didn't know if there was something certain for me to be thinking in this moment, my last thoughts?

This is my second turn and the first time I pulled the trigger I physically couldn't breathe in that split second the click followed by nothing flooded the tense, thick air. Relief had hit me so hard I almost dropped the weapon and cried for joy, thanked any lord for that round not having the bullet. For the first time in a week I felt free, I felt like I could walk on water and fly through the clouds above because of my luck.

But then I remembered that the more duds I shoot, the longer I am in the game.

I was tempted to deny taking my turn just so he'll shoot me, get all this over with, hand me my last breath so I quickly exit this game as soon as I could.

Instead I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the end, even begged God for this to be my last turn. I pulled the trigger slowly, trying to prepare myself for the loud blast and agonizingly blissful pain to stab my head, ending my life.

The trigger was pulled and another hollow click pierced the air, I cried out in misery. Why couldn't he just end my life, this was going to be my last day on Earth anyways. Why couldn't that have been my last turn?

A grossly evil grin tore across his lips, revealing heavily yellowed teeth, and he took the gun from my weak hand. As soon as the metal left my hand I was about to drop to the floor, but his strong hands gripped my upper arm painfully tight.

"Don't you dare drop, you really think I'm gonna let you crumble so easily?" His tone was dark, evil. His face was centimeters from mine, his breath hot and running down my neck. I couldn't find any words over the pain I was feeling on my arm. The only response I was able to give was a squeak. When I didn't answer him, the back of his hand met my cheek, hard.

I cried out again, I could see everyone else in the circle cringe and look away from us, no one wanted to chance getting in the middle and figuring out what he would do to them for speaking without being spoken to.

"Answer me, you stupid bitch, when I am speaking to you." He seethed in my ear. With all my energy, I finally found the ability to form words.

"No, I don't think you would." I had to choke back painful sobs pounding on my chest and wringing my throat. His smirk returned an he threw my arm from his grip, causing my weak body to collapse to the cold stone floor. He demanded I get up and walked over to the next person, arriving with their next turn.

The next person was a girl younger than me. She was a seventeen year old he had taken. She was shaking worse than I was, if that's even possible. She was sobbing loudly when he forced the gun into her hands. Her long blonde hair was glue to her forehead under a layer of sweat. She was begging him something, her voice to soft for me to hear anything.

He responded by grabbing her small throat with his huge hands. She squealed and gasped for air, dripping the weapon in the process. He growled something at her that I couldn't hear. She nodded, frantically begging for him to let her breathe, but why would she? She has a way to get out of this circle and leave this monstrous game, what would posses we to want to keep breathing? To be forced to play this horrible game he has started?