The silence was torture. The fear I felt was menacing as a game of Russian roulette was but another form of punishment we prisoners of war were subjected to. Captured by mercenaries, I was soon taken to their secret hideout. I deduced that we were prisoners of war from all over the world.

I had managed to make great acquaintances with a South African. Our conversations were limited but I cherished them, nonetheless. However, our captors were malevolent in their ways, as was expected from mercenaries. They pinned me and Rob together for this game of Russian roulette. We were entertainment to them when they had no clients to employ their despicable services for.

Checking the gun, the man everyone called ‘The Major’ ensured that one bullet was in the gun’s chamber. We looked nervously at each other as he placed the gun on the table. Rob was seated in front of me, seated on my left was a Japanese guy and on my right appeared to have been a man of Egyptian descendant.

“Begin!” roared The Major as he spun the gun.

All the other mercenaries present began screaming as they hoped the gun would stop in front of the one they placed bets on, the one who would shoot their brains first. The gun’s spinning began to decrease as the inevitable approached. Stopping, the gun’s handle faced me. My hands were paralysed. Rob and the two others I played with, breathed a sigh of relief as they weren’t the unfortunate ones to pull the trigger of the gun that was to splatter their brains in the air.

“Take gun,” said The Major all the while his subordinates kept screaming in approval. I hesitated. I firmly closing my eyes, biting my teeth on my bottom lip, I said a prayer before I pulling the trigger.

“Whew!” I sighed as the gun simply made a noise, its hammer striking steel and not a bullet.
I threw the gun on the table and rested my head on my hands. All our captors laughed in a jubilant tone. The Major yet again spun the gun. This time the Japanese man was the recipient of the cruel hands of fate. The Japanese man screamed something in his native language and pulled the trigger with no hesitation. Fortunately for him his life was spared, unfortunately for us the game continued. Yet again there was uproar of laughter from our merciless captors. The Major approached us again and spun the gun.

Our eyes were glued to the gun. My brow was sweating profusely and I was shaking violently as the gun yet again menacingly span round and round. The gun slowed down with the barrel now facing me, meaning Rob was the next man to tempt fate. He somehow was relieved, almost happy that it was his turn. Rob was in capture for over ten years and believed that now was his chance to be free.

We stared into each other’s eyes as I remembered that prior to this game he informed me that he wished to convey a message to his family back home. Our moments together were special as he explained everything to me. Rob simply desired I carry out his wishes for him.

“Well, see you friend,” were the last words from the smiling face of Rob.

He pulled the trigger and time froze in its tracks. The gun-shot echoed throughout my body. An explosion of blood was splatted from Rob’s head. The mercenaries, who had blood on their bodies, simply licked the blood off. Money was exchanged as our captors soon ended their betting on us. I could hardly comprehend just what had just occurred. We were then forced out of the shed to our own cells. These vile games would continue on until eventually I make my escape from this hell.


Tell us: What would you do if you were the one captured?