Short Story by Libby S.

My sister and I have treated everything in life like a competition. No matter what we were doing chores, playing sports, who got the bigger portion of food, there always had to be a winner, and there was usually a rematch to go with it. 

Poker nights were always the same. From basically birth me and my sister were taught to be serious card sharks. All we needed was a deck of cards, barely any poker chips, just enough to create pressure, and the kitchen table between us. Nothing too serious, just everything at stake.

"Don't cry when you lose," my sister said in the most cocky and confident voice she could possibly produce. I shuffled the cards spreading them out on the deck to prove I hadn't been cheating.

 "I won last time, you're the one that should be nervous," I said despite her grin growing bigger, taking up her whole face. She always had this same face when she had so much confidence in her playing skills. 

I slid her card, then my card, then hers again across the kitchen table. Laid down the deck of cards and drew three placing them upwards. Ace of diamonds, ten of spades and seven of diamonds. I had Aces and Kings of Spades suited. What could possibly beat me when I had Ace pairs? 

At first, it was really just our house. The overhead light from my backyard flickering into the room, the ice machine clicking every few seconds, and the cars driving past my house making more sounds than usual.

Then the lights in the kitchen became brighter, more like a harsh spotlight. The walls felt much farther from the table expanding around us. I could almost hear voices around me murmuring their opinions as they watched me play. Reacting to every bet, when I pushed my chips forward they were on edge to see my sister's reactions and if she would fold.

The kitchen was no longer a kitchen. It was this large chaotic casino with my sister and I at the center of it. I could imagine rows of slot machines behind me, people dealing hands, and loud men placing bets. The air felt so heavy, with energy buzzing off the walls. 

We both placed even bets as I flipped the fourth card. The turn was a two of spades. What could possibly be going through her head? What about mine? The people were crowding more by the second, filling the card room. 

My sister leaned back in her chair, tapping her loud fingers to the sound of my heartbeat. "All in." My body fell into my soul along with all my confidence. Her words made a terrifying echo in my head that sounded like a depressing school loudspeaker. 

I tried to study her face like professionals did, trying to read her ridiculous poker face. She had this look of calmness. We were playing not for money, but for pride. 

"So you feel so confident," I nearly shouted for her to hear.

"Maybe a bit," she shot back.

I called her bet and neither of us made a single movement. 

By the final card, my complete body was shaking. The large pile of chips towering over us on the table showed me just how much I needed to win this. 

I burnt the card then flipped the river over as fast as I possibly could. There was now a Jack of Diamonds laying on the table between my sister and I. Her eyes were still locked on mine, not blinking, no emotions. 

We both threw our two cards down. I was staring at her diamond flush and the 8 and 9 of diamonds that were once in her hand. My sister's face changed from shock to disbelief, then victory. She jumped then stood up so fast the chair dropped to the floor behind her. 

"I beat you, I can't believe you lost," she screamed, slamming the poker chips off the table. The sound was so sharp and sudden it pierced my ears making the room then go silent. No casino, crowd, dealer, nothing. 

The clock read 12:47am, just my kitchen, my sister, the street lights flickering, an ice cube machine working. Two large men were holding guns to our heads. It all was pure delusion.

 "I am going to be killed over a game of poker," I told myself. That was a hard truth to swallow.

Dealing with casinos, mafia bosses, and card sharking is an ultimate death trap. My sister and I had been playing for more than fun. Illegal cards meant we signed off on being stalked and wanted by some boss. We were just kids, yet stupid enough to fall into our own graves. We were playing poker for our own lives.

"This is cruel," my sister begged as the joy wiped her face when she realized it truly was my turn to die.

I didn't want to let all the anticipation control me, and I had convinced my own mind to take me to a casino night. I finally understood that our simple poker night at a dirty kitchen table, with all the little mistakes that made our house so perfect, was over when the bullet struck my head.