Rain chased us through the night,
Beating against the glass
like something begging to get in.
The money was in the trunk.
The blood was on our hands.
“We should turn ourselves in,”
my partner whispered.
I said nothing.
He wanted forgiveness.
I wanted another chance.
Not to confess but to win.
I had spent my life gambling
on one more hand,
one more score,
one more chance to undo the last.
Every loss became another bet.
Every sin, another excuse.
Until I looked in the mirror
and hated the man staring back.
There was something illuminating in the distance,
It was a crimson sign flickering through the trees.
And it said, CASINO.
“No,” my partner said.
The doors opened anyway.
Inside of the casino,
golden lights glowed over empty tables.
A piano played itself.
And behind the counter was dealer.
He was wearing a black suit.
White gloves.
A smile too wide.
He placed two dice before us.
One painted black and red.
The other yellow and green.
Every side,
a three or a four.
“One roll,” he whispered.
My partner grabbed my arm.
“Don’t.”
The dealer smiled.
“Six takes something.”
His finger tapped the table.
“Eight gives you something.”
I stared at the dice.
Maybe this was my chance.
Maybe fortune could wash the blood away.
So I rolled.
The dice danced,
Three.
Four.
Three.
Four.
Then stopped.
“Six.”
The lights died.
Something beneath the table wrapped around my partner.
He screamed my name.
I grabbed his hand.
Pulled.
But the darkness pulled harder.
Then there was nothing.
Only his empty chair.
The dealer pushed the dice back.
“One more.”
I stepped away.
“No.”
His smile widened.
“You’ve said that before.”
My blood turned cold.
The dealer’s face began to change.
His eyes became mine.
His smile became mine.
His voice became mine.
One more.
One more hand.
One more bet.
One more chance.
I looked around.
There was no door.
Only mirrors.
And in every reflection,
I was sitting at the table.
Always gambling.
Always losing.
Always rolling again.
The dealer placed the dice in my hand.
“Six takes what you love.”
He pointed toward the empty chair.
“Eight gives you what you want.”
The dice trembled.
I finally understood.
The casino wasn’t built for gamblers.
It was built for people like me.
The dealer leaned closer.
“Before you roll…”
His smile stretched across my face.
“…decide how much of yourself you’re willing to lose.”
