Russian Roulette [Phan]

Russian Roulette: A dangerous and deadly game in which a revolver or six shooter has one (or more) bullets put into the chamber. The chamber is then spun around and snapped into position, leaving no idea as to the bullet's exact position. Two or more men then take turns putting the gun to their head and pulling the trigger, hoping it falls on an empty chamber.

I didn’t want to be here, I honestly didn’t. Things got out of hand, and now I find myself facing 3 men, and a table with a single gun lying in the middle. The warehouse is dark, the lights above us buzz with electrical energy but don’t give out much light. I don’t know where I am, the few windows are heavily boarded up and I was had a hood over my head for the entirety of the journey. A ‘necessary precaution’ apparently. The ground is mucky, covered in a layer of muddy dust, and around the edge of the room are various machines, covered in grey sheets. At the door stands the fourth and final man in our group, not counting myself of course. It’s the boss. No matter what happens, he wins here.

It’s my own fault that this has happened. I ran up debts, back in Manchester, when I couldn’t afford to live with Phil but I did anyway. I gambled, got in with the wrong people, and got into trouble. And even with the radio show and youtube I just couldn’t raise the necessary money on time. So this happened.

The game is simple, at least for the boss. The two others here have placed bets on my life. If I survive, then the boss gets money. If I die... then the boss gets my life as payment. Simple as.  This way means none of my friends or family will be hurt because of my stupid mistakes, it will all be dealt with by me and it will all be contained. I have a 1 in 6 chance of having a bullet in my head today. A 1 in 6 chance of never seeing those I love again. But that’s still better than them being hunted for what I did.

I’m going to miss Phil, if this is the end. I’m going to regret so much. I never told him how much I loved him, hell I never told him that I actually loved him. I never even told him that I was gay. And I didn’t leave a note confessing my feelings like all those phan writers would say I would. I doubt Phil feels the same, if he does and he reads it then he’ll be heartbroken, if not then maybe he’d be angry with me, maybe he’d think I was perving on him. No, it was better not to mention love. Instead I apologised, I apologised for leaving him if things went wrong, I apologised that I’d been so stupid to get involved with such people rather than telling Phil the truth about my money situation. I don’t know if he’d care or not, but there you go. I couldn’t just leave him with no real explanation, could I?

The boss nods at me, and my hands shake madly as I go to pick up the gun, spinning the chamber and then and pressing the barrel to my forehead. The men in front show no emotion, although I expect they’re hoping I die. They’re going to lose money if they I survive, if they can’t pay then they’ll be stuck in the position I’m in now. It’s a cruel world, really. Part of me wants to die, to save them the trouble. But I can’t die, I still have so much more that I want to give to the world.

If I survive this, then I’m going to tell Phil my feelings. I see it now, now I’m so close to the edge, that life is too short to not be with the person you love. Phil’s so perfect, even if he doesn’t feel the same way he’d still live with me. I love him so much. I just want to go home and hug him, snuggle on the sofa and have a lord of the rings marathon and try and forget all about money and such stuff. If I survive this then I’ll never have to worry about that kind of thing again, I’d hope. Because I now have a decent job, and I’d get honest help.

“Shoot.”

I’ve been holding this gun so tight that my knuckles feel like they might split, and I swear that I will have left an indent of the opening of the gun on my forehead. My finger wraps around the trigger, deep breaths, shaking like mad. I’m sweating despite the chill in the air, my knees feel like they’re going to give out at any moment. I close my eyes, picturing Phil’s face smiling at me, hugging me, laughing, having fun.

I pull the trigger.