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

Moonlight danced across the laminate flooring, the sour smell of antiseptic filling the air as if an overused cologne. The white light glints off of something silver, a gun. Two sit across from one another, a young girl, barely fifteen yet, she misses most of her hair and she looks so frail, her hospital gown hanging off one of her shoulders. Her eyes, perhaps filled with some form of hope of beating her disease at some point, are now bloodshot and only showing a look of disbelief. Hours before they told her she had less time than they had thought. Three months they had said, and from the looks of her now it would be much shorter. She kept her eyes down, looking at the missing limb of her'friend'. She had never caught his name, though she knew he was as willing as she to play this game. He was in better health, though still had an expiration date. That he had never shared, that he would never share. His expiration was tonight. He would be damned if it was n't him that got that bullet. 
 
 Both patients had agreed that they would take the blame if the other was shot. Why the boy had only acquired one bullet was beyond her, but nevertheless she hoped it went into her head. She was done with this sickness, she was done with it controlling everything. She had to drop out of high school, she lost all her friends, her hair, her art. The girl had been accepted to one of the most prestigious art schools in the country and here she was now, perched on a hospital bed with a gun digging into her temple. 
 
 Times had changed and so had she. 
 
 The boy looked up at her, his eyes softening slightly. 
 
 `` You're not going to look?'' he breathed, his finger hesitant on the trigger. The girl barely nodded, her body letting off small shivers that turned into flinches of pain. The boy took a deep breath, coughing quietly into his arm before pulling the trigger, it letting of a click the echoed in the room for ages before they both came back from shock. 
 
 Talking about doing something is different than actually doing it. 
 
 The boy reached over and placed the gun in the girl's lap. She picked it up with a struggle, her thin wrists looking as if they might break from the sheer weight of it, though it was n't even that heavy. At least it should n't of been. She reached over, placing it to the boys temple, as he had to her. He locked eyes with her, as if assuring her it would be alright. She pulled the trigger. It clicked, just as it had before. The boy hissed, gripping the wheels of his chair as if in anger. 
 
 He took the gun back and placed it to her head, pulling the trigger without even a moments hesitation, a moment to assure the girl still wanted to go along with it. It clicked. She took the gun back. No more games. She placed it to his temple and she caught a glimpse of a smile as she pulled the trigger, it giving off a bang as blood splattered across the once clean floor. She dropped the gun, it giving off another bang. She screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks. This is not what she had planned, this is not what she had thought would happen. She needed to get out. 
 
 She looked down at the gun, a moment of calm coming over her. She slipped from her bed, immediately falling to her knees. She grabbed at the wheel chair for stability, barely able to hold her own weight as she reached for the gun, grabbing it up in the swiftest movement she had done in months. The hospital door swung open, nurses and security storming in in a blur, they all pausing in the doorway, taking in the scene. 
 
 The girl shuffled away, time seeming to freeze for everyone else. It all clicked for them then as they rushed in, running towards the boy and her, yelling out orders, disbelief and confusion coming from their seemingly angry voices. Security came towards her, though not quick enough. Back pressed against the very edges of the room she raised the gun to her temple and pulled the trigger. 

