Russian Roulette

Taking a deep breath, Tommy reached his shaking hand out. Fingers curl around the gun. He drags it across the table to his body. He opens up the cylinder, takes his bullet, slides it in. Another deep breath. He spins the cylinder and closes it. Cocking the hammer back he places the barrel of the gun to his temple.

Eyes closed. Finger on the trigger, he pulls it back.

Emery screams, water cascading down her face. Emily is in shock. The guys try and hide whatever it is they are feeling.

Tommy's hand is shaking. He opens his eyes. Relief rushes through his body. He isn't dead. Emery was crying because he didn't die. She was happy, and at the same time scared, just like everyone else.

He looks to his left. Eric sits next him. Tommy hesitantly looks at the gun, the back at Eric. Eric gives Tommy a warm smile. "It's okay son, I've lived a long life. If I die. It's okay." Tommy still doesn't hand over the gun.

With a sigh Eric’s places his hand on the Tommy’s. Tommy lets go.

Without hesitation Eric puts it to his head and pulls the trigger. Nothing. He hands the gun off to Joel. Joel's hands are really shaky. He puts the gun to his head, but doesn't pull the trigger right away.

He looks at everyone. Looking eyes with the other six victims. "If I don't make it, will whoever does do me a favor." Not a single person says no. Everyone, no matter who makes it, owes it to those who die. "My full name is Joel Peyton Fleming. Can you find my parents? Tell them that I'm sorry. They'll know why." All those around nodded sullenly.

Joel pulled the trigger. He's alive. Joel hands passes the death warrant to Emily. She's sobbing. It's been three blanks. Her chances are low. Cocks back the hammer. Pulls the trigger. A loud shot rings out. Her body falls foreword. Slamming hard onto the table.

Emery slaps her hand over her mouth to stop a scream from coming out. Water drips onto her skin. The blood from Emily's head draining onto the table. The liquid spreading like wildfire. It spills over and onto Rick. He cringes. It's his turn.

He takes the gun that fell to the floor. Grabs his bullet, places it into the cylinder. Repeats the process that Tommy had to do. Gun at his temple. Deep breath. Bang.

Emery couldn't stop her screams this time. They were loud and shrill, covering up the thunk of his body. Both Tommy and Dylan Immediately wrap an arm around her as best as they can. Eric and Joel exchange worried glances.

Emery calms down a bit after 20 or so minutes. Dylan looks at her. "It's my turn." He has the gun in his hand. Already loaded. He kisses Emery softly on the lips. "I love you Emery."

"I love you too Dylan." Her reply is choked with tears.
Emery smiles while opening her eyes. It's a sad smile though. Dylan was upset that the last smile he'd ever get to see his beautiful Emery smile, is when she has tears running down her face.

She took the gun from him. Using one hand she placed it over his eyes. With the other she pointed the gun at herself. She presses her finger on the trigger. No bullet.

Emery focuses her gaze on Tommy. He's so young. So full of life. She looks back at the gun.

"Emery, it's my turn. Give me the gun." He reaches his hand out.

"No. I'm taking your turn." Tommy is about to argue with her. She cuts him off. "You just turned 16. Today’s your birthday. It's my present to you."

She places the Gun to her head. Right as she's about to pull the trigger, Eric speaks. "I'll do it Emery. I'm the oldest. I've lived enough."

Reluctantly she hands the gun to Eric. He pulls the trigger once, nothing. A second time. Nothing.

Joel takes the gun from Eric. "That was four shots. There is only five in this gun. Heh. I guess it's my turn." He's crying.

"Joel," Tommy speaks. "Whoever lives...will find your parents. I promise.*

Joel smiles. A true smile. He pulls the trigger. His body falls to the table. The four that are left are solemn. Three people dead. Three types of blood mixing on the table. The crimson liquid, coating the faces of the people who have lost their lives.