They scatter and bounce in a haunting sound that strikes straight through to my bones.
For a moment, I wish this was one of those nightmares where my subconscious has a field day with bringing all my fears and weaknesses to the surface.
I wish the scene in front of me was nothing more than a cruel joke.
But the more I blink, the realer it gets.
Jeremy actually has a gun and he said he’s going to play a game with it.
Russian roulette.
“Please tell me you’re joking,” I whisper, my heart thundering so hard in my chest, I’m surprised I don’t faint.
He doesn’t spare me a glance, continuing his task, erasing me from his immediate surroundings.
“Jeremy!” My voice quakes and chokes.
Finally, he slides his intense gaze to me, and it’s…dead.
Gone is the person who made me food and even smiled while talking earlier. A demon has taken his place and transformed him into a soulless monster, who’s hungry for flesh.
Myflesh.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I try and fail to control the quivering in my voice.
“I told you. Russian roulette.” He pushes a bullet into one of the gruesome holes of the rotating cylinder and slams it shut, then rolls it with a blurry speed. “But let’s make it truth time. We’ll ask two questions each and when the other answers, he has to shoot. It might be the last thing we say, so lying is prohibited. There are five empty shots and we’ll play four rounds. You go first.”
I shake my head frantically and jump up. I’m not staying here or taking part in this madness.
His earlier threat about what he’ll do if I run away pales in comparison to actually shooting ourselves.
I’m one step away when a strong arm wraps around my wrist and I’m tugged back with a force that knocks the breath out of my lungs.
He forces me down onto something hard. His lap. To keep me in place, he wraps an arm around my middle, forbidding me from moving an inch.
A deep sense of terror grips hold of me and I push at his arm, scratching, clawing, hitting.
I pour all my energy in the struggle, but I might as well be remaining still. Not only does he not budge, but his grip has tightened until I can barely breathe.
“Are you done?” His hot breath draws shivers against the skin of my ear.
I cast a glance at him behind me, at his chiseled face and handsome features. At the beautiful creature who might as well be cut from the darkness.
“Don’t do this, please,” I say more calmly, holding on to my rationality by a thread. “I…don’t want to die.”
“Neither do I.”
“How is this different from committing suicide?”
“It’s not about dying. It’s about the truth.” He hands me the gun. “You have more chances of survival if you go first. I’ll ask the question.”
“I’ll answer any questions you have. Just not like this.”
“Why do you periodically go into a catatonic state?”
A jolt zips through me and I stare at him, dumbfounded. How does he know that when I’ve managed to hide it so well?
Even the closest people to me think I’m prone to zone out, but they wouldn’t name it as specifically as he does.