Russian Roulette

Seven people; five men, two women. One gun. One loaded bullet. One game of chance.

The group of seven, sit at a round table. A gun sits in the center. One bullet stands in front of the victims. Each persons legs are handcuffed to metal chairs bolted to the ground. The room is dark. Only a dim light hanging from the Center of the ceiling over the table, illuminates the people there.

Emery, one of the females, sits in her chair, to afraid to move. The only comfort she has is her fiancé sitting next to her.

Dylan, his fingers are laced with Emery's. He gently rubs the skin of her palm with his thumb. His fear hidden deep below the surface. He needs to be strong for his love.

Tommy, the youngest in the group. He's 16. His birthday being this very day. His green eyes wandering the table as he fidgets in his chair.

Emily, the other female. She's a wreck. Her eyes are over flowing with water. Body shaking with silent sobs. The terror she's feeling written all over her face.

Eric, is an older man, older then anyone else in the pack, at the ripe age of 58. He's not scared. He's calm. His had a long life and if it's his time so be it.

Rick, the only guy in the room that's letting his emotions get the best of him. He's crying, his face in his hands.

Joel, sits still. Blank expression on his face. He has a calm exterior, but on he inside he's in chaos.

No one spoke. They had been sitting in quiet for the better part of three hours. Eric's gaze is fixed upon Tommy. He frowns deeply. His gruff voice, tined with wisdom and old age, breaks the silence. "How old are you, kid?"

Tommy snaps his head up, in Eric's direction. "Today's my birthday." A tear streams down Tommy’s face. "I just turned 16."

"You're only a child!" Emery's voice is heard. "You're just a child." She reached her hand out, Tommy's to the right of her, and grasps his hand. Its sweaty from nerves. "It's going to be okay kid." She speaks softly. Trying to reassure both herself and the young boy.

Emily glares at the other woman. She screams, "Shut up! It is not going to be okay! Don't lie to him!."

Emery ignores her. "My names Emery." She forces a small smile. "Whenever you get really scared, just grab my hand, okay?" Emery starts to pull her hand away, but Tommy holds it firmly.

"I'm Tommy. I'm scared. I don't want to die."

Emery can't say anything. She doesn't know what to.

The old man sighs loudly. "I'm Eric."

Other voices join in.

"Rick." He stops crying. He wants to try and be strong for the kid.

"Emily."

"Dylan." He squeezes his fiancés left hand.

"Joel." His voice is quiet, calming, beautiful.

Before anything else could be said a loud crackle enters the room. Something you'd hear from a PA system. Then there's a voice. "I see you've all finally gotten acquainted." It's male, very deep, a little rough.

Emily squeaks, starting to cry more. Both, Tommy and Dylan squeeze Emery’s hands. Eric glances from Tommy to the direction of where the voice is coming from. Rick starts to fidget. Joel does nothing.

"All seven of you have something in common. You have no one. It was easy to take you, because no one would notice." The voice speaks. Every one looks at the faces around them. "Tommy. He's a street urchin. He has no parents, no family, no one who loves him." A tear slips down Tommy's cheek. "Dylan and Emery. You only have each other. You guys met in an orphanage. Turned 18 three years ago, and out you went together." Emery and Dylan’s eyes met. "Eric. Poor old man. Your family sent you to a home! They never once visited. You checked yourself out and own an apartment. All your friends dead, and family doesn't care.

"Emily's a hooker and lives in a crappy motel room by paying the motel owner with sex. She's of no importance to anyone, but cliental. Joel. 18 years old and kicked out of your house. Living on the streets and completely suicidal."

Joel's calm shell finally cracks. "Fuck you!" He shouts loudly.

"That's not very nice Joel. Now Rick. You sure are a lonely one. He a hermit. Owns a nice home, lives by himself. Hasn’t gone out of his house in 7 years. Well till today that is." The voice chuckles.

"Now, on to business. Do you all see the revolver on the table? well of course you do! It's not loaded, well for now that is. There is a bullet in front of each of you. I will pick a person at random and that person will slide one bullet into the cylinder, spin it, snap it closed, bring the hammer back, put it to your head, and pull the trigger. If you live pass it to the person on your left. If you die, the person on your left will repeat the process. The last person living will get to leave. You may start now. Tommy is first." The crackle came back, the voice is gone.
All eyes are on the gun. Tommy's trembling. Emery feels his grip tighten even more. Tommy doesn't reach out for the gun. He's to afraid.

They sit in silence. Five minutes pass by. Ten minutes. Emily slams her hands on to the table. "Just do it already!" She shrieks at Tommy.

Tommy whimpers. Emery glares at Emily. "Watch it Emily. He's 16 for fucks sake! So shut it."

Emily ignores her. "Do it Tommy."

Emery shoots her a warning glance. "Emily, shut your cock sucking mouth!"

Emily's voice is shrill. "Do it! Or I'll take the gun, put my bullet in it and shoot you till the bullet comes out."

"Like hell you will!" Eric’s voice booms throughout the room. "You will not harm the child, you will give him all the time he needs to do this."

Emily, along with the others, stare at Eric in all. Tommy looking at him with gratitude. Emily in fear, while the rest stare in astonishment.