Xavier nods. The other man picks the gun up off the dirt floor where Xavier dropped it after the first roulette. He flicks the barrel open and shows it to the four of you, as if to prove the bullet is still there. Then he spins it, and it turns rapidly around itself with a soft whirr that merges with the murmur of the waves far below you, until it audibly clicks into place.

You choose again, says Xavier, placing the gun back in your hands. Did you ever feel more alive than in that moment, Kristina? I doubt it. Do you think you ever will again? I’ll never know why you chose her. A crystal-clear demonstration of the hierarchy in your trio, perhaps. An attempt of showing off to Xavier. After all, you could have handed the gun to the second man, a random stranger. But you don’t. You hand it to Trine.

It’s not even real, you whisper. It’s just a game.

Trine emerges from her coke-haze to find her eyes locked on yours. She can’t quite decipher your words. Elisabeth says something. Let’s go, probably. Trine tries to do as she’s told, to lift the gun, but she’s started to shake uncontrollably, the sound of her teeth chattering audible to the others.

Stop, says Elisabeth and tries to stand up, but Xavier gently and firmly pulls her back down.

Come on, ladies. We have to finish what we started. Last round. You laugh, but your voice sounds hollow and strange.

If you want to play this game, you should go next, says Elisabeth. Everyone falls silent. A long moment unfolds between you.

You’re right, you say. You reach for the gun, which lies nestled in the space between Trine’s jittery, trembling knees.

No, whispers Trine. You chose me. But you hold it.

You glance at Elisabeth, then at Xavier, their faces are unreadable. Suddenly none of it seems funny or exciting and you fight the urge to just get up and bolt into the clutch of the jungle, merely inches away. Finally, you look at Trine. She has stopped shaking and appears strangely calm. You can make out the beat of her pulse on her throat. A slight smile plays on her pink, full lips and she gives a little nod as your hand closes around the gun.

Another collective intake of breath. Metal and moonlight. You struggle to lift the weapon to Trine’s temple, it feels impossibly heavy, and you press it very hard against her temple to stop your hand from trembling violently. A wince. Then, another little nod.

68

Kristina

‘Kristina? Honey, what’s happening? Kristina, what the fuck? What’s going on… what are you doing? I don’t understand? What are you reading?’