I paced quickly up the steps of the apartment complex, my hands shaking, my head hurting. I broke into a run when I reached the top level, stopping abruptly before his door.
A slight hesitation, that was all. Then I knocked.
No answer. I didn't expect one. I closed my eyes against the onslaught of images I didn't want to see and tried the door knob. Finding it unlocked, I swiftly stepped into the dark room on the other side.
The air was stiff with tension and lack of fresh air. It was dark, and I waited for my eyes to adjust before sweeping the room with them. Not here. I walked through the rank mess of a living room, across a short hallway and towards his room.
Before entering I stopped. I took a shuddering breath. Deep. Calm.
Not calm. I was never calm with him.
I turned into his room, and let out the air I was holding in a gasp.
He had his finger on the trigger, his hand completely relaxed and his shoulders taught with stress. The gun lay on the small coffee table in front of him. He sat on the dirty carpet, criss cross style.
He looked up at me and a glare of light entered his green eyes. I knew it so well. I took one step forward, then stopped.
He stared at me for a long minute without saying a word, and then looked down at the gun again. He took his finger off the trigger, but stroked the safety lightly with his thumb.
My heart thudded loudly and I realized there were tears on my cheeks. Dry and wet. Old and new. Tears were always there, with him.
I broke the silence first. "What happened?" It was barely a whisper. I was almost surprised he heard me.
His lips barely moved as he replied, "Nothing. Nothing ever happens."
I should've expected that. I moved as if to step closer; his finger twitched; I stopped.
My breathing was shallow, while his breaths were smooth and even. The difference was very loud in the still room.
He noticed. "Calm yourself, love."
New tears spilled over. "Will you?" I asked, almost sarcastically. The anger I tried so hard to stifle around him was threatening to spill out of me.
He blinked and looked at me. "I am."
I shook my head slowly. Sweat was beading on my forhead and my palms were wet. My arms had a slight tremor. My hand bunched into a fist, and I placed it over my mouth to stifle a yell.
He saw my obvious panic and another small glint in his eye shone as he assessed me. It made my heart skip louder.
Something in his eyes changed and he took a shaky breath. "Are you afraid?" he asked me after a long moment of tense silence.
I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
I didn't sign up to play this game. But love gave you no options. I couldn't leave.
I stared into his darkened eyes and slowly nodded. "Terrified," I whispered.
He nodded, and his brow furrowed. "Will you leave?"
He gave me another one of his immeasurable stares; his eyes let me know this wasn't a game anymore.
Slowly, he reached his arm out; he moved his hand over the gun, protectively. His gaze flickered from the cold weapon to my face.
My turn to move.
My turn.
I could feel the door behind me, beckoning me. Just run. It isn't hard. This was danger. This was uncertainty. This was Roulette.
Except it was hard.
This was love. He was my love.
So I took a step forward and sat down slowly, my legs shaking beneath me and my heart beating loud and obvious.
He closed his eyes briefly for a moment and when he opened them I saw all the sorrow and terror that lay inside me, in him. For me.
Everything feeling in me was a calm panic. I sat as stilll as I could, staring him down while my heart raced and my blood boiled. He sat as still as I.
We were playing for keeps now. No backing out.
There was no room for surprise as he slid his hand around the gun and picked it up with a strong hand. His long fingers grasped the handle as if he'd done this so many times before.
My throat made a choking sound, and his finger pulled the trigger. Click.
He took a shuddering breath as he let the gun drop onto the wooden table, and pushed the gun towards me slightly.
I stretched out my hand, brushing his fingertips as I reached for the gun.
I stopped before I could make contact with it. My fingers still shaking, I closed my eyes and moved them forward until I felt the cold metal. I bent them around the handle, slid it closer to me and released my hold on the weapon quickly.
I gasped, looking down and closing my eyes tightly. Bringing my head up to level with his, I snapped my eyes open and brought a hand through my hair. Another shuddering breath. Another tear.
His left hand twitched, as if it desired to touch me. Or the gun. I looked away from the cold gray metal and into his moist eyes.
"Take a breath," he told me. "Count to three."
I nodded. One. Two. Three.
"Close your eyes."
I did. And in the darkness I could feel all of my terror, and anger, and sorrow. I could feel the warmth from him, and the shaking in my arms, and in his lying on the table across from me. I could hear my heart beat inside my chest, and feel the blood leaving my face and feet. I was cold.
I could see my life, everything in it, all within seconds. A childhood filled with regret and sorrow. Decisions I should have made. Love lost, and gained. Memories to hold and treasure. Happiness. Depression. Hate. Love. Anger. Joy. Confusion. Understanding. Fright. Security. Fighting. Passion.
Everything.
I opened my eyes quickly, breathing in a shuddering breath.
And I saw him.
My heart beat fast and sure and THERE in my chest. It was amazing how much he could still make my heart race.
His eyes were sad. His eyes had love.
I couldn't think clearly around him. I couldn't think of my own life, because he WAS my life.
I couldn't leave. I couldn't back out. I would pass this test.
I placed my right hand back on the gun.
He moved forward, and then back, like he wanted to take the gun from me then stopped. He sat still, staring at me. The muscles in his arms flexed and his dark eyes flashed to the gun and then back to me.
He nodded.
My eyes flashed down and I picked up the heavy metal, my wrist adjusting to the suprising weight. I stared at it for a moment, placing my finger on the trigger and studying it.
I looked up at him.
There were tears in his eyes, and all of a sudden my eyes were wet too. I asked an unspoken question, and he nodded.
I took a deep breath. Just pull the trigger.
Seconds passed. And then I was ready.
Just pull the trigger.
"Bella," he whispered.
I stared into his eyes steadily, knowing they could be the last thing I saw.
Could be.
Just pull the trigger.
I did.
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