Nowhere left to run now.

He knows that as well as I do.

My fingers coil softly around the trigger as I aim the barrel towards his skull. I pause to gaze nonchalantly at my adversary — the last man standing between myself and victory in this twisted game. I picture his body limp and soaked in violent crimson. Only with his murder will I finally be free.

His eyes bore into mine with the same stark coldness as the metal in my hands. My fingers tense up but do not yet make the final move. I take a moment to relish the feeling of his life in my hands, letting the adrenaline invigorate my resolve.

The game ends now. I win.