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“Take a breath. Take it deep. Calm yourself,” he says to me. “If you play, you play for keeps. Take the gun and count to three.”

  I’m sweating now.

  Moving slow.

  No time to think.

  My turn to go.

  My heart is racing, pounding against my chest as this game continues. I’ve survived this far, but I am afraid that I am going to lose very, very soon. Russian Roulette. A game not to be played. A game not to be tampered with. I dared. I am playing it. I am tampering with it. I am drugged. I am senseless, yet so full of sense. I know how I got here, yet I do not exactly know how I got here. I mean, the last thing I remember was having an argument with Bro. We have had a few in the past, but none had ended with his otherself, Darkness, appearing and almost beating me to the point of death. Darkness had never come before. Only a few times over the phone and online, but never in person.

  Never in person.

  When he first came, I thought Bro was joking, trying to scare me. But when he lunged for me, that wild look in his eyes, I knew he wasn’t joking. I knew I had to get out of that house. I knew I had to run, but I prayed that Bro would take control, first. Take control before everything became out of control, and some one got hurt.

  Me.

  But that prayer was not answered. Darkness told me that Bro let him out. That Bro wanted him to hurt me. I didn’t believe.

  Wouldn’t.

  Couldn’t.

  Can’t…

  Even now.

  I mean… why would Bro want to do such a thing? I had just told him that one of my old boyfriends wanted me back and I was thinking about going back out with him. Bro was my first. And, no, were not related by blood. Only by the words Bro and Sis and our birth date: Same month, same day, same year. I’m just a few minutes older than him and rubbed it in his face just about every chance that I got.

  I ran.

  After a brutal beating from Darkness, I ran from the house.

  I hid out on the streets, knowing that he would go to all my friend’s houses, looking for me. Once I knew it was safe, I went to the hospital and got fixed up, ate, slept, and bathed there for a few days. When I got out, I went back to Bro and Darkness’s house (no longer mine) and got the rest of my things and my secret stash and rented out a place a couple miles from the University. I relaxed some then. I was away from the demon pair, close to the school, my job, and partied every chance I got. I even went back out with my old bf.

  Big.

  Mistake.

  Because, now, here was me and my supposed true love playing Russian Roulette. One bullet in the revolver. Me stoned and drugged half out my mind. Him as clean and as sober as he wants to be, smiling. That smile saying it all. He knows what he’s done.

  “Say a prayer to yourself.” He says, “Close your eyes, sometimes it helps.”

  That smooth luscious voice that used to make my knees go weak and shake with love and desire, now are weak and shake from fear and knowing. He hates me for leaving him for Bro. He hates how I lost my virginity to Bro. He hates how I did it all behinds his back. He thinks I’ve committed incest. And now he wants to kill me.

  He’s played this game many times before.

  I know, because of the talk on campus about him being the Russian Roulette master. How he knows the trick, the technique of how not to get his brains blown clear out his skull. He knows how to let the other player fall pray and victim to that one bullet, but he’s never gone that far to. After the first time that he and the other player won, he called it quits.

  I’m not so lucky.

  I am not so blessed.

  This is going on our fifteenth round.

  I have been lucky enough not to have my brains scatter out on the wall behind me, but I have a feeling my luck is slowly running out. Especially with the way that he keeps smiling. His eyes dancing with anticipation of my timely death.

  I want to cry.

  I want to beg him to let us stop here, while we both have our lives.

  I know it is useless.

  A waste of breath.

  I have already tried.

  His steel, calmness, in the way he said no, scared me.

  So I dare not ask again.

  I just take a deep breath.

  Take it deep.

  I say a prayer to myself.

  I close my eyes.

  I count…

  “One…”

  Will I ever see another sunrise?

  “Two…”

  Did Darkness truly mean what he said, or did he just want me gone?

  “Three…”

  Will people actually cry at my funeral?

  Will I be missed?

  Most importantly…

  Will Bro miss me?

  With one last breathe, I pull the trigger.

  And before I black out, I hear a boom.

  I hear screaming.

  I hear laughing.

  “Have fun in hell you incest bitch!”

  But one…

  One…

  I shall always remember one scream.

  One cry.

  One plea.

  In my afterlife.

  “Sis, no! I love you! Please don’t leave me!”

  “…Bro…”

  Then…

BOOM!

To Be Continued…