Written in the Stars of Heaven

When I finally came to and tried to brush the strand of hair that had so annoyingly stuck itself to my eyelashes, I met a great resistance. I tried pulling free a few more times, confusion wrinkling my brow. Where in the hell was I? And suddenly, it all came crashing back; the party, the dark figure, the sweet smelling rag, the ropes wrapped around my hands and tied to the back of a wooden chair. I had been kidnapped! Oh gawd, and with my luck, it was probably by the serial killer all over the news. Could my life get any more complicated?

Glancing around when my eyes finally adjusted, my heart sank. The way everything was set up, it seemed that this person expected me to be staying for awhile. In the corner, on the cold, grey concrete was a stained white mattress, and on the opposite side, a little built-in toilet. And directly across from where the chair was positioned, was a wooden door that was sure to be locked. Not that it would matter anyway, with my hands secured by the rope.

My breaths came in short, shallow gasps as panic coursed through me. I pulled violently on the scratchy bonds, causing them to cut into the sensitive skin of my wrists, and I did my best to rock the chair. Maybe if I could get it to fall over, it would break, and I could get my arms in front of me. That would free my hands, and maybe I could figure out the door. Of course, I'd have to take into account that I had no clue where I was or what kind of building I was in. I didn't even know if it was just the person who took me from the hotel. I could be in a looney person metropolis, for all I knew.

Before I had a chance to make much progress on my super smart plan, I heard a rustling outside, and the golden knob turned slowly. It was kind of like one of those tense moments in a horror movie, where you know that someone is coming and you're terrified out of your wits. And then, to add to the scary thrill, the guy opened the door, eliciting a shrill creak that filled the room.

"Ah, you're awake my beauty," the man, still dressed in all black, including a black ski mask, said when he closed the door behind him. "I hoped we could get to the fun sooner, rather than later. I've been waiting for a long time for this moment."

I regret to say I trembled a little at his cold, unfriendly tone. And even more so at those eyes. There was something about them... I couldn’t' place it, but they instilled such terror in me. The bright blue orbs... It was like they looked right through me, into my soul. I didn't like it at all.

"I figured we could play a game. Would you like that?"

I'm not proud of my choice of words, but I told him to leave me alone. Only not quite so pleasantly.

"Is that any language for a young lady? I'd be appalled if I were your father."

"Good thing you're not. Even that monster is more of a man than you!" I sneered.

"Feisty," he chuckled. "You'll need it for the game we're about to play."

That didn't sound like something I wanted to participate it... Any game thought up by a kidnapper probably wasn't a very fun one for anyone but him.

"So, we're going to need this," he said, pulling a silver revolver from the waistband of his black jeans, "And we're going to play a little Russian Roulette. How's that sound?"

I went completely cold at his words. If we played like I though we were going to, one of us would be dead within the next couple minutes.

"I play this with all of my conquests."

If I thought I was afraid before, I was wrong. My heart thudded spastically against my chest, pounding as if its goal was to rip through my ribs. If he played this game with "all of his conquests", that meant I wasn't his first. He had kidnapped before. I would bet my life that he was that murderer the news warned everyone about. I was trapped in a dirty cell with a serial killer! And to top that off, he'd obviously never lost Russian Roulette. Every single person, all around my age, had sat in this chair, presumably, and pulled the trigger that ender their own life. Not one had beaten our sadistic kidnapper. And what did that say about my chances?

"Watch, very carefully. I don't want you to think I have the gun rigged," he barked, pulling me from my reverie, and spinning the barrel.

After he'd secured it again, he put the silver gun up to his temple, still covered by the black mask. "Wish me luck."

I held my breath as he squeezed his unsettling eyes closed and pulled. Nothing. Not that I relished the idea of watching someone shoot himself, but it was an escape for me. I had to get out!

"You turn." His voice was like slime oozing down my spine, sick and unnerving.

When I refused to reply, he shook his head, and moved around me, untying the ropes. "Now be a good girl, or I will kill you. No chance, like I'm giving you now."

I nodded subtly, not having the voice to speak. My terror had worked its way up to my throat, restricting all speech. My body temperature drastically dropped when he handed me the cold, shiny weapon. It was an instrument of death, and I hated it. It was wrong, and I wanted nothing more than to drop it. But I couldn't. I knew I couldn't. I had to go through with his disturbing game, and win. It was my only shot at survival.

Hands shaking, I slowly put the gun to my temple.

"Good. Now... pull the trigger."

That moment right before death, where the movies tell you should be filled with flashbacks of your life, is actually quite silent. At least for me it was. I had no images of my poor, sweet mother, none of Sandy, or Kendyll. I didn't see myself learning to ride a bike, or punching Linda Crawford. All I was aware of was the rough breathing of the man standing too close to me, and the chill of the metal against my head. That, and a poorly formed plan I had no choice but to act out. It was my only hope.