Prologue: This is not a Game of Russian Roulette
She had gone her whole life without seeing a gun, only ever catching a glimpse of one through the barrier of a TV or a movie screen. She had never seen one in person, never been this close in proximity and now, here was one right in front of her face. So closethat if she turned her head she could kiss it. The person holding the gunexhaled and she twitched involuntarily, her vodka clouded mind fearing that anaction as simple as breathing would be able to set the revolver off.
They sniffled and she looked upto meet their eyes. The skin underneath them was raw and damp, begging to besoothed and dried.She could feelwetness on her face too, her tears were making a path down her cheeks, mirroringthe eyes opposite her own, but she didn’t know who had started the crying, whohad passed the sadness onto the other.
A broken sob came from the personsitting on the bed in front of her and she blinked, trying to clear her visionwithout moving. She jumped slightly as the hands, which were clasped betweenher own, moved upwards. She wanted to withdraw, to take her hands away but shecouldn’t, it was like there was an invisible string connecting them, a stringthat she would forever be attached to one end of. A sharp intake of breathescaped her as she watched the mouth open, as lips parted, before the gunslipped between them. She could feel her tears starting again as she realizedthat this was real, that the gun was fully loaded and it wasn’t just some gameof Russian roulette where the outcome was unknown. There was only one outcome, the six bullets in therevolver helped to insure that.
She could feel her handsstarting to sweat, her fingers and palms becoming hot, asking to be wiped freeof the moisture, but she kept them in position. The person facing her closedtheir eyes and she wanted to close her eyes too but she couldn’t, she couldn’tlook away from their face. The hand underneath hers moved again, fingersclosing over the trigger, ready to pull.
Her heartbeat sped up and in a rush of adrenaline shewithdrew her hand, breaking the invisible link. She backed away, shaking herhead. “I’m sorry, I can’t, I can’t –” Her next words were replaced with a gaspas the gun went off, the loud bang was followed by screams; yells and criesrising from all parts of the house. She stood in shock, watching as the body,her friend’s body, dropped to thefloor. As blood rushed from their head she sank to her knees, sobbing with ahand pressed tightly against her mouth.
“Oh god, oh my god,” she whimpered. “What did I do?” Shewatched the body, willing it to move. Her sobs grew louder as the spot of bloodgrew bigger. Then, a calmness swept over her, it was like she was floating, herbody felt weightless.
The fear that had been flowing through her when the gun hadbeen poised in her friend’s mouth disappeared. She crawled towards the body andstopped in front of it. She uncurled the hand that was around the handle andpositioned the gun in front of her heart, closing her eyes. Her fingers flexedand then began to move towards the little piece of metal that hadalready ended one life that night.
But then somebody was pushing her, shouting her name. Sheopened her eyes and gazed up. Someone was staring back at her with wide,fearful eyes, saying her name over and over again, the words merging togetherso that it sounded like a terrified chant. They took the gun from her, placingit near the body then they grabbed her wrists and tugged on the long, satingloves until her hands were exposed. She was yanked to her feet and pulled awayfrom the crumpled form lying on the floor. Her eyes never left the body, thepool of blood was growing darker, an ominous red that would never leave thewhite mat.
She could hear voices, people coming closer to the room, allof them too loud and panicked. But none of that mattered, her best friend wasdead, her best friend’s life was over and she had done nothing to stop it fromending. She closed her eyes again as ringing filled her ears and then, everythingwent black.
. What I would say is that you need to improve that thumb of yours if you know what I mean. If you don't, I mean that you need to work on putting spaces in your work, but overall the plot is very vague, which is suppose to be since it is the prologue and it fits perfectly in you story. This may seem like a horror story, but its more pulsating in my case. It goes rapidly in a heart beat from word to word, sentence to sentence, paragraph to paragraph, and finally section to section. I really do like enjoy this story as it could give me inspiration for future stories.
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