2 months after the death of Scout.
I sit in the room of a hotel two miles away from Mann Co. I have a revolver in my hand and I spin it absentmindedly
You see, I have been thinking about the last words Scout said to me before he left this earth. I think he was right really about a little part of myself dying when I executed him.
I had just come off the phone with Scout's mother and she says it was all my fault. And I think she is right. I tried to relieve the guilt, but the little part of my brain that died has spread its death plague to other parts. My entire mind has been consumed by his death. Every night, I dream again and again of the bloody holes inside a corpse and I realise I mutiliated the body and then, the body morphs and shifts into Scout. He is begging for me to spare him and the bullets begin to fly. The blood and the screams are so real....
I haven't had time to sleep because of those dreams, so I have been playing a game to pass the time every night. I'm sure you all know how to play. It is a test of luck, one that I intend to test today one final time. If Scout could see me now, playing Russian Roulette in a 3-star hotel and deep in madness.
I have placed four bullets into the five holes of the revolver and I have been rotating the holes without looking. If I looked, that would be cheating. The gun is against my head now. I can feel the coolness of the barrel against the side of my head, and I swallow back my fear. I hope for a quick death, because I know luck is not on my side. I click and the holes rotate once to rest.
I close my eyes and grit my teeth. One......Two......Three.........
Bang!