Russian Roulette - Kakashi

Russian Roulette

WARNING: This book contains suicidal thoughts and abusive behavior. Dark themes.

A/N

This is now a one-shot.

...

He picked up the game when he was a young age of 6, looking at his father's back.

The smell of booze stung his nose, green shards of alcohol strewn over the mats while his once proud father - the ex general of their country, sat lone in the middle of it all, a bottle in his hand while a revolver in another - pointed to his own temple.

Sakumo pulled the trigger. Kakashi froze, thinking his father's brains were about to explode across the room.

Nothing happened.

"To-Tou san?"

Sakumo swerved around, drunken red face revealed with puffy red eyes, drool mixed with booze dribbling down his chin and through his unshaven stubble.

"HHmmmM...? OhHo- KAkaSHiiii..." he drawled before hiccuping, slowly getting up. Kakashi hunched defensively, eyes searching carefully for escape routes. This wasn't the first time his father had gotten drunk after all.

And then it shot out.

Sakumo's infamous Killing Intent. 

Kakashi saw his own head being sliced off and he choked, stumbling. He gasped as he realized that- he wasn't dead- and looked up again-

Sakumo was right in front of him.

Kakashi looked up.

And an empty green bottle came down, shattering Kakashi's world with it as the glass pierced skin and drew blood.

...

And as Kakashi lay on the bloodied floor, his father snoring on the sofa in the other room, he stared at the six barreled revolver across the room.

It had one bullet in it.

Kakashi forced himself to crawl over, before collapsing on his back beside it, staring up at the ceiling. He grabbed the revolver.

Kakashi stared at the gun in his hand and tested it's grip, worn leather fitting comfortably in his fingers. The metal barrel reflected his face blurrily, but still his single red eye shined off it's rusted surface - a defect from birth... And all the cuts and bruises littering his body.

He shakily brought it to his temple and closed his eyes, breathing slowly and deeply.

Click.

...

"Are you ok Kakashi?"

"I'm fine," Kakashi smiled, feeling the forceful stretch of muscle on his face, "Tou san."

He spent his nights cleaning up the blood covering him from head to toe. The bruises on his face...? Well, he could always hide them with his trusty mask.

His father eyed him, vision clearly not focused from the subtle shaking in his pupils. He turned away after only a few seconds of studying with a small 'hm' and Kakashi pushed away the disappointment in his father's lack of care. His fist clenched as a small fire of anger flared in his chest - but he forced it to subdue.