Status: One-shot; Short story.
Count to Three
Inhale.. Count to Three.. Exhale
“Calm yourself.”
My breath was caught in my throat as I heard his words. I looked up at him. He started at me with glazed eyes, almost black. But that could’ve been from the darkness. It’s quiet. No one moves or speaks. Then a flash of silver catches my eye. In the dimmed room, the object reflected the only light that flickered. I heard soft pats as it was passed around, until it was offered to me, presented in all of its’ greatness. My fingers lingered over the metallic revolver shakily, unbeknownst to me. “Go on, then.” A gruff voice urged me. I nodded, taking the gun into my sweaty fingers. It seems heavier than I had imagined. “Count to three, then pull.” The instructions never seemed so foreign to me. I watched as the other men performed these steps, lucky enough to escape with their lives for one more round. But I could not seem to muster the strength to raise the gun, let alone pull the trigger. I regarded the men once more, beady eyes staring back at me as they waited. I could hear the shuffling of paper. The man farthest from me grinned greedily as his dirty thumbs flipped over each bill. He had done well. He bet on Xavier.
Now it was my turn. Dimitri, the man on my left, seemed made of stone. Earlier, he patted me on the back over a shot and wished me the best of luck. He was solemn now. I knew why. He bet on me. I swallowed nervously as the tension in the room became thicker. The gun weighed down my hands, but I managed to lift it. Lift it all the way to my head, where the opening kissed my temple. The metal felt cold against my perspiring skin. My finger slid along the gun until it hooked onto the trigger. My heart pounded to the point where I was sure Demitri could hear it. I couldn’t bear look any man in the eye. So I looked up to the corner of the room, where a cross hung, adorned by the Son of God. I murmured several words of prayer and of love to my wife as my finger began to squeeze the trigger.
“Close your eyes. Sometimes it helps.”
As instructed, my eyes shut and refused to open. My forehead crinkled with worry, my heart filled with hope, and my mind filled with reality. I wasn’t a lucky man. I counted to three, I took a deep breath. With no other choice, my finger tightened on the trigger. Tighter, tighter, until..
Bang!
My breath escaped my body, in the form of an exhale as I collapsed onto the floor, the gun clattering with an echo. The bitter blood spared no time in marking my death.
The last words that rung through my mind were those of Dimitri’s, pitiful and worrying.
“Stupid boy..”
My breath was caught in my throat as I heard his words. I looked up at him. He started at me with glazed eyes, almost black. But that could’ve been from the darkness. It’s quiet. No one moves or speaks. Then a flash of silver catches my eye. In the dimmed room, the object reflected the only light that flickered. I heard soft pats as it was passed around, until it was offered to me, presented in all of its’ greatness. My fingers lingered over the metallic revolver shakily, unbeknownst to me. “Go on, then.” A gruff voice urged me. I nodded, taking the gun into my sweaty fingers. It seems heavier than I had imagined. “Count to three, then pull.” The instructions never seemed so foreign to me. I watched as the other men performed these steps, lucky enough to escape with their lives for one more round. But I could not seem to muster the strength to raise the gun, let alone pull the trigger. I regarded the men once more, beady eyes staring back at me as they waited. I could hear the shuffling of paper. The man farthest from me grinned greedily as his dirty thumbs flipped over each bill. He had done well. He bet on Xavier.
Now it was my turn. Dimitri, the man on my left, seemed made of stone. Earlier, he patted me on the back over a shot and wished me the best of luck. He was solemn now. I knew why. He bet on me. I swallowed nervously as the tension in the room became thicker. The gun weighed down my hands, but I managed to lift it. Lift it all the way to my head, where the opening kissed my temple. The metal felt cold against my perspiring skin. My finger slid along the gun until it hooked onto the trigger. My heart pounded to the point where I was sure Demitri could hear it. I couldn’t bear look any man in the eye. So I looked up to the corner of the room, where a cross hung, adorned by the Son of God. I murmured several words of prayer and of love to my wife as my finger began to squeeze the trigger.
“Close your eyes. Sometimes it helps.”
As instructed, my eyes shut and refused to open. My forehead crinkled with worry, my heart filled with hope, and my mind filled with reality. I wasn’t a lucky man. I counted to three, I took a deep breath. With no other choice, my finger tightened on the trigger. Tighter, tighter, until..
Bang!
My breath escaped my body, in the form of an exhale as I collapsed onto the floor, the gun clattering with an echo. The bitter blood spared no time in marking my death.
The last words that rung through my mind were those of Dimitri’s, pitiful and worrying.
“Stupid boy..”
♠ ♠ ♠
I got my inspiration from Russian Roulette by Rihanna. Go check it out. :)