Roulette

3rd chamber

Two shots in. Four more to go. The gun glides across the table and lands in my hands. Ace pours my whiskey and asks a rather annoying question.

"Back to ivory... i know for damn sure your days weren't all sunshine and rainbows. What'd she say when she found out you ditched your meds?"

Seeing as how it would only give ace more satisfaction, i decided to avoid showing my fury at his prying, and as calm as possible, answer his question.

"She flipped out. Understandably, i guess. Wanted to leave, said that she wasn't going to be with some psycho. She never did bother to learn the difference between psychosis and mental illness." I cock the colt in my hands and set it down.

Ace cuts in with "and you're sure you aren't crazy? I've seen you do some pretty stupid shit."

The sarcasm stings just enough for me to throw it back. "I mean. I'd have to be crazy to be sitting here talking to you, literally holding a gun to my own head. But... enough about me. I know you just want to know about ivory. "

"Heh." He scoffs. "Well, you're not wrong. But that's not why im asking. That night in particular sent you to a dark place. With you, that's hard to do. It's got me curious."

"Well, she was curious." I respond. "Loved me one day, furious the next. It drove me insane. Still, i loved her more than i would've liked to admit. I still wanted to make it work."

"Because you need someone to teach you boundaries?" Ace cuts in.

"What? No, ace. becau-"

"Because you strive on negative comments?"

You can hear in my voice now, agitation. I know im giving him what he's after. A rise. "no, ace. Because i-"

"Because you're a mental masochist?" He cuts in again, that cheeky grin now at it's peak.

"GODDAMNIT ACE!" I yell, practically leaping out of my chair. Oops. Self control just threw itself out the window. "I know it's not really your thing, but if you're going to ask questions, at least have the decency to listen to the fucking answers!"

There's a tense pause as i grab ahold of my inner wheel. The silence is deafening. I sit back down, as ashamed as a 3rd grader called out for talking in class.

Ace breaks the quiet. "You done?" He taunts, with the kind of smirk that's begging to be punched.

I throw back my shot, pick up the gun, and raise it to my head. "Yeah." I calmly state. "I'm done." Then, i pull the trigger.

Click