After reading the text, I turned my face toward Luke.
He had also read it and was now looking at the wall behind us while scratching his head with his pointer finger.
"So, what do we choose?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said as I went next to him.
After a few seconds of silence, Luke came up with an idea.
"I think we should exclude 0 and 6 from our options," he said.
"Why is that?"
"Because if he said there is the worst possible number here, it's either 0 or 6," he replied.
"One of them is lowest, one of them is highest. Makes sense, but" I stopped for a moment.
Then came closer to the wall and continued.
"One of them is the best option, right? We are going to remove our best option that way."
"True, but we can't risk choosing the worst one," he said. "It's 50-50."
He was right, so I didn't even argue with him on that topic anymore.
Now we had to choose a number between 1 and 5.
"Let's remove 1 and 5 too for the same reason," said Luke without looking at me.
"So we are going with 3," I said, according to his logic.
He turned towards me and locked his fingers together, resting them behind his head, elbows sticking out like wings.
"Logically, it makes sense, but we can't be sure. What if…" he started thinking while looking at the ceiling.
"What if he told us to jump from the 3rd floor? I don't think I would survive."
"What if he asked us a question and gave 3 chances to answer?" I said.
"That makes sense, too, but we can never know," Luke said as he sat on the bloody ground.
Suddenly, a thought appeared on my mind.
I looked towards the text behind me and asked a question.
"What type of game are we going to play?"
"Last time, you told me what kind of game it would be. Give us a hint," I continued.
At this moment, the door Luke came through opened.
The man who carried my father's dead body, at least that's what I thought, entered the room, holding one empty green glass bottle. He was holding it with both hands over his chest.
He was holding his hands as if he was showing it off to the audience by holding them from top and bottom.
As I saw the bottle, a thought came to my mind that made my eyes open wide, and I turned to Luke with shock on my face.
Luke had the same expression as me, and he also turned to me when he saw the bottle.
"I hope it is not what I think it is," I muttered as someone else entered the room.
This person had the same dress as the first one. Same mask, gloves, shoes, and everything.
The only difference was, this person was a little shorter but still taller compared to me.
He was carrying 2 wooden chairs. Nothing looked special about them.
He put them down, facing each other at a distance of a meter.
Then another man, who had the same suit, entered the room with a round table. The one that we see in small coffee shops.
He placed the table between the chairs.
Following them, another man entered holding a cloche, one of those silver domes used to serve food at high-end restaurants. He put it on the table without opening the lid.
Then the man who was holding the bottle came close to the table and put it down.
Then everyone except the first guy left the room and closed the door.
A new text appeared on the wall.
"You are not allowed to touch anything or ask any other questions to me or the person standing next to you.
You have 5 minutes to decide your number."
As I read the text, a thought came to my mind.
"Are you hungry, Luke?"
"Yes, but why? You think it is food?" he looked at me as he replied.
"Could be," I said, "He has offered me painkillers before and healed me multiple times."
"It can be something related to food since we need to eat," I continued, since I was actually starting to get hungry.
"Agree, but do you think it is going to be regular food? Maybe it is some weird insect he will give us for the number we choose," Luke said.
"Maybe he will tell us to eat spiders."
He had a point. It could be like that, but what was the bottle for?
Making digestion easier? I don't think so.
"Let's choose two," said Luke.
"If he tells us to eat something, we can eat one each. Both fair and less annoying."
"I don't know," I replied.
"Okay then, choose yourself," Luke said.
"I am not allowed to choose, so you do it. I am fine with whatever you choose. We will die here anyway," he continued.
As I said, teenagers are tent not to understand stuff, especially death. They take it lightly.
But as someone who had died a few times, I knew that I didn't want to die again.
"I choose 2," I said.
"Number is 2," I repeated, looking at the wall.
The text on the wall changed to a new, handwritten one.
"Congratulations on not choosing the worst possible option."
Now, we can start to play game #3."
Luke looked at me with a smile.
"Told you"
I smiled too, slightly, not knowing what was coming for us.
Text on the wall continued, while the man came even closer to the table.
Then he held the lid of the cloche and lifted it, revealing what was under it.
When Luke and I saw what was under the lid, we froze.
A revolver.
Then the man reached into his pocket and slowly, deliberately, revealed two bullets.
"You chose the number 2," he said in a low-pitched, familiar voice.
And placed them on the table.