[ WP ] A game of Russian Roulette between two terminally ill people .

She stares at me, shoulders heaving slightly. This is it. This is us seizing our fate and playing with it. This is us screaming a'fuck you' to the world which has told us that we do n't get out alive. 
 
'Who first?' she asks, somewhat breathlessly. She never seems to have enough breath these days. Nothing like when we were kids and used to run around everywhere, or when we were dating in college, travelling wherever we could. I can still see her at my wedding, dashing madly to ensure that everything was perfect. My wife had always adored her. 
 
 We decide to toss a coin for it. I call tails a second before it lands on the floor. Heads. 
 
 She pauses for a second, and then reaches for the gun which our eyes are fixed on. Then, she walks over to me and hugs me, her warm arms choking me in our last embrace, her familiar smell intoxicatingly comforting, the feeling of her trembling body as she presses the cold, hard barrel against my temple. I open my eyes. 
 
'I loved you,' she whispers as our eyes fill with tears.'I loved you so much, and I still do. You do n't deserve to see anyone else die. This is you, escaping.' 
 
 All of the chambers are loaded. Shit. All of the chambers are loaded. 
 
 I nod.'But this is the thing... you do n't get to decide when I die. Give me the fucking gun.' 
 
 The trigger is somehow pulled in my attempt to seize the gun. I do n't know who is hit first, but I do know that we both die as we were born; covered in blood, whimpering and neglected.
