Say a prayer to yourself, he says. Close your eyes; sometimes it helps.
His words don't help and I narrow my eyes at him slightly, wanting to scream at him. To throw the gun down and tell him to keep the money. Tell him that I'm scared and give up. Part of me wants to hit him.. But part of me is calmed by those words..
No, not the words. The almost kind way he said them. I don't believe in a God. I can't, otherwise I wouldn't be here.. Doing this to get money so my parents and I don't wind up on the streets. I take a deep breath and realize that I'm shaking, and my entire body is coated in a cold, wet sheen.
This whole situation is funny.. I have my reasons to be here, but what about him? He's done this before does he get some sort of sick high off it or does he have someone he's trying to save.. Maybe he's a hero in shining armor who's going to save the damsel. I wonder how long I've been sitting here.
I part my lips as if to ask him but the noise that escapes I could hardly call human.. And he's looking at me. I feel like he's staring through me. I close my eyes.. Breath in.. Out.. In.. Out.. In. Out, In Out In Out. Oh God.. I'm going to pass out. I can't. Can't do this.
My finger restricts and I hear the click, flinching before dropping it as a bout of laughter yanked from my chest by some invisible force. I fall to the ground laughing hysterically, tears in my eyes and blood from the growing puddle on the ground tainting my fingers the same color as his eyes.
I hear the heels of his boots clicking as he walks over and picks up the gun that fell to the right of my chair. With shocking realization I look up to him and shake my head, Don't do it. I want to say, but my voice won't cooperate.
He gives me a strange grin and presses the muzzle of the gun against his temple, I choke on the air in my own lungs and shake my head again- barely murmuring a soft no.
"Good Game.." He mutters, pulling the trigger.
I gasp and wait for the crack.. For the earsplitting sound of gunfire, for the thud as his limp body falls to the ground. But everything is silent. It's his turn to laugh and I can see him shaking as his knees give out, part of his trousers being soaked by crimson liquid. I can taste bile in the back of my throat and shake my head as he offers the gun to me.
He grins and opens it up, before passing it to me so I can see. I turn it so the muzzle faces the ceiling and a single, misshappen bullet falls to the floor. The point is angled strangely and the bottom part looks like it wouldn't even be able to pass through all the way- I wonder how no one noticed. Too nervous putting the bullets in, I guess.
"Atem."
I look up at him for a second, waiting for him to explain. He looks foreign.. Arabic.. Exotic.. His dark skin and red eyes certainly don't fit in on the streets of Domino, even if our hair is practically identical.
He clears his throat, "My name is Atem."
Oh.. That makes sense, "Yugi." Have I always been that quiet?
"We can split it evenly.. Or go for another round- up to you."
I smile and exhale slowly, "I'm never playing this game again."