Spring Break

episode 13

Your decision: Griffin should pick up the gun.

The room was silent, their breaths kept gated behind their sealed lips. Whiteness surrounded them, their gazes set on the dark, black gun in front of them. With each passing second their hearts began to beat faster and faster until it began to take their breath away. Suspense weighed heavily in the thick air as they waited, waited for something to happen.

Thousands of thoughts clouded their minds, many scenarios playing out behind their eyes. But with each thought, they always came back to the same realization. Someone had to pick up that gun. Someone had to take the object that delivered death into their blood stained hands, and use it.

Griffin's muscles tensed, his dark brown eyes narrowed on the gun in front of him. His gaze darted up to the other two's faces, trying to read the thoughts that lay behind their creased forehead and pensive expressions. But his attention fell back to the table, the feeling in his gut enough to convince him.

Hand outstretched, Griffin lunged forward where he grabbed the gun, the object cool and lethal in his hand. A gasp slipped through Emma's lips, her eyes growing wide. "Griffin" she warned, stomach churning with worry.

"Emma" Griffin responded, taking a slow step back. "Someone had to pick it up, okay? Someone had to" he justified, brown eyes analyzing the gun which he turned over in his hands.

Wesley felt a warning chill dance across his skin as Griffin gripped the gun, his finger resting over the trigger. But his attention was stolen by the staticky sound that broke the fragile silence around them. "Welcome to the next level. Griffin, you have chosen to play. Are you ready?" the man questioned, his coarse voice echoing off of the surrounding walls.

Griffin's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, regret throbbing in his chest. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, deciding to face whatever was next. "I'm ready." Griffin responded robotically, disguising the dread that welled up within.

"Shoot someone."

The man's words echoed through the small, empty room sending fear crashing through the walls of their hearts. Griffin's eyebrows shot up in shock, his eyes wide in disbelief. "What?" he stuttered with a gasp, unable to fathom the idea.

Chuckling softly, the man said, "I think you heard what I said, Griffin. I think you heard it quite clearly. Shoot someone. And do it quickly. If you don't, you will all die slow, painful deaths. The choice is yours" the man said before the sound came to an abrupt end, leaving a ringing silence in its place.

Griffin stared down at the gun in his hands, ideas popping into his head with the following scenarios. His heart pounded against his ribs, a cold breeze tickling the back of his neck. Slowly, he looked up, his eyes landing on the two that stood in front of him.

"Griffin" Emma breathed as tears misted her eyes. "You don't have to shoot anyone, okay? Let's just think about this for a minute before we do anything we can't undo" she said calmly, raising her hands as she took a step closer.

Tensing, Griffin stepped back as he raised the gun. Emma paled, her eyes growing wide as she stared down the barrel of the gun. "Emma, don't do that. You heard what he said. If I don't shoot someone, we all die. We both know he isn't fucking around." Griffin's voice trembled with nerves, tears glimmering in his eyes as he already felt sick with himself for what he knew he had to do.

Wesley stepped forward, the two turning towards him. A weak, trembling breath slipped through his lips, his hands clenched into fists by his side. "Shoot me."

Emma felt her heart stop, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What?" she gasped, eyebrows knitted together as she stared at his somber expression. "What did you just say?"