Why is this alley way so fucking dark? They really expect me to walk down this place to a side door? Jesus, it looks like Jack the Ripper’s ideal hunting ground. That shouldn’t really concern me though considering why I’m here. Each step further into this place gives me a feeling that could make the hair on my arms stand up from anxiety or let a grin slip from my lips in excitement. I don’t know which, but what matters is a sliver of life rises up inside me. I savor it.

As soon as I raise my fist to knock on the door it opens. “Charles?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

I’m ushered inside. I step into the dragon’s belly, where my sight is limited by cigar smoke and my nostrils are stung by the fumes. I can make out a round table in the center of the room with five chairs filled by the silhouettes of men and an empty sixth chair for me. There’s not much more to the room, except the humming coming from the light that hangs above the table. I sit. Everyone’s attention is directed to the center of the table where a .45 Colt revolver is laying. One of us won’t be leaving this table alive.

Russian roulette. That’s what it’s come down to for me. My body starts to ignite itself, I can feel the engine in the center of my chest start up and I love every second of it. My bones feel like a rattle inside my skin and I can hear my heart beat. The poor men around me are probably having trouble trying to restrain any hint of nervousness on their bodies. I can read each one of them and know what he’s thinking. This isn’t like a game of cards though, I am in uncharted territory. The man directly across from me, well he is scared and you don’t need to be an expert to know that; but the man on my right isn’t giving away any facial cues, however his knuckles are white from how hard he has his fists balled because he is having trouble remaining calm.

“So, why are you men here tonight?” I ask, but I know none of them wants to talk about it.

The man across from me answers “Money, you?” His voice is shakier than Elvis’s hips in his prime. I can see some of the men around him nod in agreement.

“Well that’s a good question. I’m here to gain as well.” Although what I have to gain is a lot different than money. I want the satisfaction of feeling my heart beat in my chest.

I look around and start to wait for someone else to chime in, no one does.

“Well, I appreciate you all being here and to the victor goes the spoils… or some shit like that.” I know I just raised the pulse of every man in the room, and I didn’t even mention death. Tonight is going to be fun.

I look to the man that brought me in for instruction. He’s the security for the night. I can finally make out what he looks like, and it turns out he is bald and buff. They’re always bald and buff.

“Gentlemen, you will all go in the order you arrived.” His voice is commanding. I’m not partial to any order myself, and I know I’m not in any position to refute Mr. Clean so I let the event go as planned, while I relax in my seat and inhale every moment.

I’m last; if my turn arises I’ll know my fate for certain. The man to my left is first.

His hand stammers across the table and wraps around the gun. He gets the privilege of spinning the cylinder. With a flick of his wrist a thousand clicks come and the cylinder sets. The game is in motion. He cocks the hammer and puts the gun to his head. I imagine what’s going through his mind. I remember receiving the news my parent’s died in a car crash. Death seems appropriate for the theme tonight, although he is probably thinking about his life instead.

Of course it was the captain of the police to come to my doorway and deliver the news of my parent’s deaths. The doorbell rang as I was walking by it to get a snack from the kitchen. I definitely had the appetite of a teenager. Since I was already there I didn’t wait for the butler to answer. I opened the door to the surprise of the captain looking at his feet with his hat in his hand.

“Hello son. I have some bad news.” Each word came out of his mouth so solemnly.

“What’s going on officer?” I said.

“Your parents, they’ve died in a car accident.”

“Oh… Thank you sir, have a good day.” I didn’t know what else to say in the moment.

I shut the door in his face and turned to the rest of my house. I sat down with my back to the door, and let the news of what he just said wash over me like high tide. I felt numb to the news, all I could understand was they were gone. The people that put me in a private school, on numerous sports clubs, and bought anything I had a remote interest in were gone. I felt the news harden into fact and the loss of two parents became concrete in my mind. Luckily, they left me one last gift that money couldn’t buy. After it all set in, everything felt electric, I existed in a moment where I understood the difference between life and death and I gained a reason to live.

Man number one pulls the trigger and the hammer hits the firing pin. There is no bang though.

“Congratulations, you just won some money.” I say to him as he passes the gun.

“Yeah, I guess I did.” All of his words come out in one sigh of relief.

I divert my attention to the second man who has already begun to engage in his courtship of the revolver. A staring contest begins to take place between the two. I’m patient though because I’m trying to cherish every second of the night. My veins stretch the skin around them due to the increase in my blood pressure. The second man is faintly wheezing as he begins the deed. The barrel touches his head and once again, nothing. The cycle continues.

The man who is sitting across from me starts to pick up the gun in a rush. He probably wants to get it over with. As he raises it I catch my reflection. I thought it was fitting to wear a tuxedo tonight and get a haircut earlier. The first time I gambled I wore blue jeans with a stained white t-shirt. It was something new for me, as I was still new to a world on my own in my first year of college. I was in another random college guys house with my friends. Assorted lines of coke were on the coffee table, people were outside smoking pot and drinking, it was the epitome of a college party. I’d been to previous parties and had my run-ins with the various alcohols and drugs college students have access to, but none of them did anything for me. I walked down stairs to the basement and I saw guys dispersing poker chips amongst each other. I figured I might as well learn a new skill and put the ten bucks in my pocket to good use instead of a late night pizza. From the first hand I was dealt I realized playing poker was something different, I got the high I was supposed to get from the numerous stimulants around me from a deck of cards and colored plastic chips. The possibility of losing something made me want to fight for it, even if it was only a small amount of cash. Each hand I was dealt was a constant struggle that allowed me to appreciate what I had and eventually my love for the game turned into an addiction.

I lose sight of my reflection as the gun is passed to the next man. Turns out, the third time was not the charm. I can only assume that the fourth man is thinking about how his chance of getting shot has increased to 1:3. Gambling is all about chances and as each man passes the gun unscathed, the chance of dying increases. He appears to be in deep thought with his chin tucked into his chest and I feel nostalgia.

I remember the crisp leather that hugged the seats in the interior of many of the convertible Ferrari’s at my disposal. Pulling up to casinos always seemed to be a power play for me, but of course there was more to playing poker than just the cards. Some men would wear high priced accessories on their wrists. I opted for wearing women on my arms. It was all about the atmosphere a man could project, and I projected the best one. A cigar would hang out of my mouth and the sticky smoke would surround me like an aura. Honestly, I got no enjoyment from it because it was all a charade, if anything I was bluffing past my hand. None of that lifestyle brought me any satisfaction. I just frequented casinos to indulge in my quest for feeling. Those felt lined tables were my home and the lights surrounding illuminated the addiction me and everyone there had whether it was a grandma playing the slot machines or me reveling like a king on a throne of poker chips. However, like all good addicts will tell you they lost their luster, and I had to find something else to appease my needs like gambling on horse races. Not to say I stopped going, I still frequented them to make an income and take from the overconfident fat tourist wearing his lucky cowboy hat.

After a few minutes of a unresponsiveness he comes back to life and lifts the gun off the table. I decide not to pay attention to him or the gun. It seems like a waste so I pretend to crack my back by twisting side to side. As I twist I recognize the rest of the room is dark, it’s almost like we aren’t supposed to enjoy what could be our final minutes. As I turn back to the table man number four is exhaling his worries and the fifth man has already picked the gun up. It’s either him or me that’s going to die. He looks at it, then at me. Our eyes meet.

“Well, I can’t say I’m rooting for you.”

“Understandable.” I don’t expect the guy to say much, considering he is about to put a gun to his head.

Recently, gambling on life has become the next step in my addiction. The lives I’ve been gambling on weren’t mine though. I got into betting on dogfights. Watching these dogs allowed me a new appreciation for my life. There was blood stained into the dirt of the mini coliseum they were put into. Each mutt thrown in was taken away from the arms of an owner or maybe a home on the street, but they still found a reason to fight for their lives. Teeth would gnash in the air as they went for each other’s throats and the ferocity they had for living was remarkable. Memories of eating kibble and being taken for walks resided behind the fury in their eyes and I found a respect for the animals, but living vicariously through dogs on death row with nothing more to live for than the matted fur on their backs became old. They had found a reason for living that I hadn’t. I could tell they valued their lives, but I didn’t. So I’m here tonight looking for that reason.

This is the last man before me, if a bullet goes through his head I walk away alive, if it doesn’t I’m dragged away dead. The barrel finally reaches its destination on his temple and I wait. The hair on my arms stands in anticipation. I can smell the salt in the sweat running down his neck. I watch his knuckle turn white as he squeezes the trigger only to turn back to beige when nothing happens. It’s my turn.

He starts to set the gun back down but I take it before it can touch the table. I’m not one to wait. I don’t want to get it over with per say, but I do want to be in the moment. I want to feel everything happening right now. My heartbeat has become quick enough to sound like a roar. I focus on the wooden handle of the gun and appreciate how smooth it is. Sweat is carving it’s own waterway down my face. My stomach has begun to do somersaults and I can feel my eyelids pry themselves open wider. I’m going through a sensory overload and I begin to imagine my own life. What could have happened after and what will it be like when I’m gone? Everyone is focused on me. Each man’s hands are in his lap and they are all slightly leaning back. I would too if I was about to see a man’s brains blown out. I’m going to die. I’m going to lose the life I’ve rarely felt and now I want to feel more of it. So be it, I knew the risk coming in and I was willing to bet my life. I close my eyes and my thumb graces the hammer back. My finger wraps around the trigger and pulls.

Nothing.

No projectile goes through my brain, instead all I hear is silence. I’m supposed to be on the ground with a hole in my skull. I look to where I should have fallen. What the fuck happened?

“I guess it’s my lucky day.” I’m in disbelief still.

“Keep my money gentlemen.” I decide to not push my luck and gather myself into a brisk walk out before they can ask for a re-do.

I get to the end of the alleyway where my night started and it’s still dark, but everything seems so vibrant. The wind brushes against my face and I embrace it. Car lights flash by and although they blind me I think I’ve found clarity. I have a reason to live whether that is a constant adrenaline search or the value I have begun to find in my own life just before nearly losing it. I’m no longer numb.