I picked up the gun. I held it in front of my eyes, and I looked down the deep, dark and empty barrel. The gun contained three out of six bullets. I held the it in a loose grip with both of my hands. It was a part of me now. It should determin whether I should live or die. The gun was my God.
The gun was my ruler. At least for the moment. If it would fail, I would just walk away and try to forget that this had ever happened. I hope no such thing as to be reborn was possible. I couldn’t stand the thought of living another life time in such a hell. The sweat covered my entire body, and I tried to wipe it away with my albowes. “Fuck it”, I said in a low, mumbling voice. The gun was now pressed against my eye, and I tried my luck…