I was a few steps away from my Cadillac when I got tapped on my shoulder by a masked man, then rendered unconscious with a hard punch.
I woke up tied to a chair in a dark room and with a throbbing pain in my head. There was a table in front of me and opposite it was another man tied up just like me, my twin brother.
“You’re finally awake,” he said.
“Who did this?” I asked.
“I know as much as you do,” he said, and I knew nothing.
Just then, three men came in. Two I assumed were bodyguards and the third one with a stern look, the boss. We hoped for an explanation but he said nothing, he just brought out a picture from his pocket and placed it on the table then signalled his men to untie us, they did and I grabbed the picture. I immediately recognized the eight-year-old girl I had hit seven years ago after my brother and I had too much to drink and he dared me to drive with my eyes closed. She didn’t survive.
With my father’s connection, we were set free with only the feeling of guilt left to hunt us for the rest of our lives. Someone obviously thought that wasn’t enough.
I passed the picture to my brother and I could tell from his reaction that that dreadful day just flashed before his eyes. The boss brought out a gun to end the lives of two child murderers, or so I had thought. He unloaded the gun, handed the empty over to me, then a bullet to my brother. He turned the picture to its back and on it was a bold writing, “One lives, one dies,” then he dropped a twenty-four-hour stopwatch before leaving.
We spent hours thinking of ways to escape our fate, but there was none. Hopefully, our absence would have been noticed by someone and a search for us conducted, but we now had less than five minutes. I looked at my brother in the eye; I loved him but there was no point in both of us dying today so I did what I had to do.
I pushed the table forcefully towards him, making him fall from his chair and the bullet in his hand rolled away, then I stood up and ran to get it and so did he; we struggled for a while, and in the end; I got the bullet. I loaded the gun, unlocked the safety, and pointed it towards him and he raised his hands in surrender. He didn’t look disappointed or judgmental, just sad and scared, he didn’t blame me probably because he was planning the same thing. He closed his eyes tightly patiently waiting for his death and tears rushed down my eyes, I couldn’t do it even though my life depended on it but then again there was no point in the two of us dying so I did the only thing I could,I placed the gun on my head. Slowly, he opened his eyes, probably wondering why he was still alive when he saw the gun pointed at me.
“What are you doing?” he asked in a low but terrified voice.
“What I have to,” I said, then pressed the trigger slowly. Before I could take the shot, he jumped on me and I lost control, firing the gun to the air, losing the chance of any of us surviving.
I got ready to yell at him for stupidly condemning us both to death when I noticed the amount of blood gushing out from his chest; he was hit. I tried controlling the bleeding, but it was of no use so I held him tight as life slowly left his body, just then the door to the room broke down and men with guns came rushing in, it was the police, right in time.