Russian Roulette

Whirrr... click. The spinning of the barrel of the revolver was followed by a dry, hollow click. Daniel let out an involuntary sigh of relief. He moved the gun away from his right temple, placed it next to his glass of Cane and lit another cigarette.

He wanted to die, of that he was sure. His life had been an ordinary one yet depression had plagued him since puberty. Now in his early twenties he had experienced enough of the torments that come with that psychological disease and he would kill himself, today. No more failed suicide attempts that make people lock you away and treat you like a child when you are finally free. No more cutting and burning of his own flesh for that was only a temporary solution. No more of those cries for help mixed with a desire to die. Today all that would end and he would be free. A last sip of his drink and a last drag of his cigarette and whirrr... click.

Nothing but disappointment. Why play Russian roulette instead of just pulling the trigger on a loaded chamber? Daniel did not quite know the answer to that question; it just seemed like a good idea. If he was meant to die then he would. If he was meant to live then he would live and that would be followed be a revaluation of his situation. The part of him that wanted to die was always haunted by a smaller yet still powerful part of his mind called self-preservation.

Self-preservation seemed to be an unconscious force that was responsible for his previous failures. Like when he tried to cut his wrists he all of a sudden wanted to live, and when he swallowed two bottles of pills, the same thing. It was what made him phone the doctor or an ambulance, it was what had always stopped him. But not today. Today he would die for certain, unless he was meant to live because then the gods of chance would save him. whirrr... click.

Again disappointment. With his smoke and his drink almost finished, Daniel was hoping that this time he'd be lucky and get the bullet. Whirrr... click. No luck. Maybe he really was meant to live. No, he was certain that he was meant to die. He wanted to die, not even fate should deny him that.

Whirrr... click. Damn! He was tiring of this game. His nerves were on an edge that not even his pills could cure. He had to die, he wanted to and so he had to.


This was it. This was the moment that he had been waiting years for. He was tired of life. Oh so tired of his mundane, boring life. Not even a bullet in his head was always successful but it was a more sure method than any of the others he had used. Once again he spun the barrel and placed the gun to his right temple. He was hoping that this would be it, but did not believe in his soul that he would die. One more drag of his smoke and another sip of his drink. Whirrr... Bang!