by Anushka Chakrabarti
Click.
At first, there was nothing. Just numbness when he made the deal. Numbness when he grabbed the grip presented to him. Numbness when he closed his eyes and readied himself.
He gambled with his life for the first time that day. Only to be met with a resounding click. The numbness was satiated for a moment as the spark of adrenaline ran through his veins when he heard the sound, fueling a deep desire inside of him that had ruined so many before.
Click.
He found himself standing in front of the doors that he had hesitantly passed through only a few days ago. It was only his second time, but the now hesitance was accompanied by anticipation. He sought after the spark he had gotten the first time.
The numbness was persistent as he walked towards the table. The chatter, the people, the sounds, it was all too much and he craved the feeling of the black barrel that felt comfortable in his hand. He watched the table take their turns, breath hitching with each click and foot-tapping incessantly on the floor. And when it was his time, he raised the weight in his hand, and suddenly his vision went dark. Only to open it seconds later, lights blaring in front of him until someone else's story ended.
The spark that he had felt the first time had returned. He thought it would be enough.
Click.
He had become a regular. Everyone knew he was expected to be at the table in the far back. The initial surprise at his survival had worn out, replaced by curiosity as to when his luck would run out.
It filled his entire being, and he took more risks until he felt the spark once again. He started to rate each day by how satisfied he was when he left--craving more and more when the numbers declined.
Click.
100.
Click.
98.
Click.
90.
Click.
78.
Click Click Click.
54, 32, 14.
Click.
3.
Click.
2.
Click.
...67. Pentax 67, a vintage camera he had recently dug up. He had taken a picture of his cat and… her.
She had come into his life without any warning. She wasn't a gamble, wasn't a risk, wasn't dangerous. Yet she brought him the most adrenaline he had in a while. Late-night drives, watching the sunset and sunrise as they huddled close in the back of his car. Cheesy movies and run-down diners, basking in the warmth of each other without a care in the world. And the number never went down. He never needed to chase after the feeling because it was always there. The warmth, the fullness, and the love defined the feeling.
Click.
He needed closure. He decided that he would go for the last time, and say goodbye. He would leave forever, and start a new life with her. He watched as the trigger was pulled 9 times at the head of each person. There were 10 slots and one bullet. He was the 10th person.
He knew it was coming. His luck had run out right when he needed it the most. A single tear ran down his face as he thought about what he was leaving. He didn't want this at all. There was no adrenaline, just dread. And so as he lost to the game of Russian Roulette, he realized that he had found happiness at last. Not in the casino, but in the woman who was cuddling with his cat at home, waiting for him to come back home. He could see her twisting the simple silver that adorned her ring finger, looking out longingly into the rain, waiting for her lover, her fiance, her happiness. She was waiting to start the new life with him, staying together for as long as they lived. And he realized he had never felt numbness when he was with her.
His vision went black. Only there was no light.
- Fin.