CLICK! The sound of the chamber slotting into place seems much louder than it should within this noisy room. Perhaps it’s the weight of the moment, shining through in auditory protest, reminding me that I should be terrified. As though I need any added reason to be more on edge than I already am. Sadistic eyes watch me intensely from the surrounding crowd. Their brains ticking, wondering if I will go through with it or take the loss and leave with my life. But I am not here for myself. I am here for her. For her soft soul, her kind spirit, her joyous blue eyes. She who showed me what true unconditional love was the moment I held her fragility in my calloused hands, and in every moment since. I look across the table in front of me, to the man sitting on the other side. Sweat drips from his brow and he looks down towards the tool of destruction that he holds in his shaky hands. His eyes are wild with fear and determination. “This is your last chance” the announcers voice booms from the side. The man addresses the crowd just as much as he is addressing us. Even if this is just some seedy underground entertainment for the far too wealthy. It is still a show, and the show must go on. “You have both managed to make it through four rounds. There are only two chambers left. Do both of you have what it takes to face it, knowing there is a fifty fifty chance that it will mean your death?” He continues, adding intrigue to his voice as though he were hosting a regular prime time game show, and not this horror show of sick human curiosity. I could leave here right now, my life intact. But the only way to ensure payment is to stay. Even if I die here tonight. My family will be compensated. A lesser amount than if I survive, but enough to cover the cost of her medical treatments. Enough to save her life. My ears tune back in just as the announcer turns to the man across from me. “Will you stay?” He asks the man. The man nods. He glances my way, directly into my eyes. It hits me hard, making me feel as though we have shared something important. A secret understanding that only people who have been in this bizarre set of circumstances could possibly understand. I feel like I know him in that moment, he is me, and my heart aches for what desperation must have brought him into this depraved den of theatre. “Will you stay?” He asks me this time, and I feel my voice begin to betray me as I try to speak. So instead, I nod solemnly. The crowd cheers, the sound makes me feel sick to my stomach. It is a strange feeling to be so repulsed yet grateful at the same time. “Raise your weapons!” the announcer instructs. My hand trembles as I reach for the revolver on the table in front of me. The man across from me is already positioned with the barrel to his head. I envy his resolve in this moment I lift the revolver and turn it in the light. There are blood spatters along both it, and my hands. Blood from those who had failed in the earlier rounds. Well, at least from the ones that had been sitting closest to me. The rest of it was on the ground or the table. The hosts had enough consideration to remove the bodies, but not to clean up the excess remains. I place the barrel of the revolver to my head, and the announcer starts to count down. “10…” My wife will hate me for this. But deep down I know that she will be able to go on living without me. “9…” I don’t think I could say the same if she lost our little girl. I fear that she would just, cease to be. “8…” My life for both of theirs, it doesn’t seem like such a bad trade really. “7…” Focus! Focus on her. Focus on the good moments. It might be the last time I ever get to think about them. “6…” Teaching her to walk, watching her discover the world and being in absolute awe over even the most simple of things. “5…” Hearing her say my name for the first time. “4…” Warm weekend cuddles in bed,reading books and playing pretend. “3…” Dancing to that weeks favourite song for the 200th time. But watching her enjoy it as though it were the first time. “2…” Watching her never lose her light, even in the face of her diagnosis and what it might mean. “1…” I have to do this. For her. I open my eyes, blurry and watery with tears, and look directly at the crowd. Some of them look away as my eyes lock on theirs, others just stare straight back. BANG! I hear the gunshot come from my side. I don’t even have to look to know that the man across from me is no longer on this plane of existence. My eyes settle on the announcer and I stare into his eyes. I open my mouth and let out the most guttural cry my lungs can muster. And then I pull the trigger.