Red or Black

Note: This story contains physical violence.

Noah let out an impressed whistle as he reached the door to his friend’s mansion.

“This is the house that Mav got from his uncle?” Noah asked. He surveyed the large house from the outside. Currently, he stood in a large driveway with his friends, Stryker, Tallia, and Abdel. The driveway was made of cobblestone, like an ancient Roman road, with brilliant green shrubbery lining the edges of the driveway, leading to the exquisite, three story mansion.

The house that they now stood before belonged to Mavado, another of their friends. He had invited all of them to the house so that they could catch up on time that they missed together. A year after they all graduated, Mav had been arrested and found guilty of murder. After he scored high on a psychopathy test, he was admitted to an old mental institute. It was a strange place to send him, with so many other psychiatric wards available to go to, but they had been told that the mental institute, the Black House, they’d called it, was the best choice for their friend. That had been five years ago, and finally Mav had been deemed well enough that he had been released.

The first thing that Mav had said to his friends since being released had been an invitation to the mansion he had inherited from his recently deceased uncle, addressed to all of them. Still a little in awe of the mansion, Noah reached out and used the knocked, forged in the shape of a serpent’s head.

After a moment, they heard the sound of someone unlocking the door and the door swung open. Standing in the doorway was Mav. He was wearing a white knit sweater and black chino pants. On his face, he bore a delighted smile at seeing his friends, his short brown hair in disarray, as if he had just woken up.

“Noah!” Mav exclaimed, hugging him. After breaking the embrace, he gestured for them to enter the house. “Please, all of you, come in. Sean’s already here.”

Mav led them all through the elegant, marble-floored main hall and into the grand lounge. The lounge had black hardwood floors, the walls made of polished brown wood, bearing some interesting landscape oil paintings. There was an expensive-looking redwood coffee table in the middle of the room, on which was a glass decanter holding a clear liquid and enough cups for all of them.

Sitting on the long brown-leather couch in the room was Sean, the last member of their friend group. Sean had always been a little different than the rest of them; he was reclusive, only deigning to spend time with them on certain occasions, and was quite the hot-head, though his temper had cooled over the years. Upon seeing all of them, Sean ran a hand through his silky, auburn hair, which he wore combed back, some strands falling into his eyes.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Sean commented. His voice sounded as it always did, smooth and calming. “For a moment, I thought it was just gonna be me and Mav tonight.”

“Now, Sean,” Mav said, “don’t be rude. They came, that’s what matters. Come, sit down. We have so much to catch up on.”

The friends settled in on the couch and told Mav about all the things he’d missed, he’d been most interested in who had won the last five Stanley Cups, ever the hockey fan. After they’d caught up for a while, Mav proposed that they play a game.

“It’s a card game,” Mav said, grabbing a pack of cards from a drawer in the redwood credenza in the room. “Well, a drinking game combined with a card game.”

“Now you’ve got my attention,” said Stryker. Stryker was the most bohemian of the group, shown even in the way he dressed; a black cowl-neck shirt that was torn, a bright red jacket, and light blue pants, his bright clothing paired with his curly, neon pink hair. He was a sculptor, with marble as his medium, which was not too expensive for someone with parents as rich as Stryker’s. He was also known for throwing frequent parties at his parents’ house and taking them out to some of the more interesting nightclubs in town. A playful spark had appeared in Stryker’s eyes.

As Mav sat down in an armchair, he took the cards out of their packaging and began to shuffle them. “The rules of the game are simple. I have here some white rum.” Mav gestured to the glass decanter. “I will be the dealer. I’ll ask one of you what you think the card on the top of the deck is: red or black. If you guess correctly, you’re safe. If you get it wrong,” Mav smirked, “you have to take a shot of rum.”

“I dunno about this, Mav,” Abdel said. “You know that I don’t drink that much.” It was true. Abdel always opted for water whenever they went out and on the occasions that they convinced him to drink, he always ordered cocktails that didn’t have a lot of alcohol. 

“Oh, come on,” Tallia said. She laid across the couch, her long legs resting on Noah’s lap. “It’ll be fun. It’s been so long since we last played a drinking game.”

After some more pleading from Tallia, Abdel gave in. 

“Noah, how about you?” Mav asked. “You in?”

“Of course he is,” Tallia interjected, smiling. “Aren’t you, babe?”

Noah and Tallia had been dating for almost four years now. Noah had had a crush on her since grade 11, but he only worked up the courage to tell her one year after they graduated. In fact, Noah had been the one to introduce Tallia into the group, hoping that he could get closer to her.

“Yeah, I’m in,” Noah said.

“Great!” Mav exclaimed excitedly. “Sean?” Sean gave a nod from where he sat on the couch, next to Stryker. “Awesome! The cards are shuffled, the rum’s there. Now, who will we start with?”

“I’ll go first,” Stryker said. 

Mav put the deck of cards on the coffee table, with the back of the cards, a black background with the symbol of a red sun in the middle, facing upwards. “Red or black?” he asked with a devilish smile.

After thinking for a moment, Stryker said, “Red.”

Mav flipped the top card, the group leaning closer to see. Two of hearts. “It’s red,” Mav said, Stryker pumping his fist in joy. Noah could’ve swore that, for a second, he saw a slight frown on Mav’s face. With Stryker’s turn over, Mav turned to the person to Stryker’s left. “Tallia. Red or black?”

“Hmm…” Having figured out her choice, Tallia said, “Black.”

Mav flipped the next card. Four of diamonds. “Wrong,” Mav said, and the others cheered as Mav filled one of the glasses with a shot of rum and handed it to Tallia. “Your shot, my lady.” Grinning, Tallia took the glass and threw her head back as she quickly drank the shot of rum. 

Thirty minutes later, all of them had gotten at least a couple guesses wrong, aside from Mav who, as the dealer, insisted that he not participate in the guessing. They were all a little drunk, some more than others, and were laughing as the turn order reached Sean, who had only gotten two guesses wrong and was not as drunk as the others.

“Red or black?” Mav asked Sean.

With a small smirk, Sean said, “Red.”

Mav flipped the card. It was the queen of spades. It was at that moment that Mav’s demeanor changed. He looked up at Sean, a wild smile on his face. “Wrong.” He let out a maniacal laugh as he pulled a knife from a sheath at his ankle and brought it down on Sean’s hand, which laid on the armrest of the couch. Sean screamed in pain as Mav pulled back, laughing. Mav had cut off the fingertip of Sean’s right pointer finger, Sean’s blood now dripping onto the couch and staining the blade of Mav’s knife.

The friends shot up quickly, a new clarity in them replacing their drunken giddiness. 

“What the fuck, Mav?” Stryker demanded.

“What?” Mav asked, still chuckling. His entire personality seemed to have changed. There was a crazed look in his eyes that had not previously been there. “It’s just some fun.”

“Fun?” asked Tallia, who had stood up. “Mav, you cut off his finger!”

As the others began to rise, Stryker helping Sean wrap his injured finger in a tissue, Mav yelled, “Sit down!” The wild, insane look in Mav's wide eyes convinced them all to sit back down, slowly.

“Mavado,” Noah said, slowly and carefully. “We know that you’ve been away in that institute for some time. We know what you’ve been through–”

“You haven’t the faintest clue what I’ve been through!” Mav cut in, no humour in his expression. “I was trapped in the Black House for five years! Not one of you visited me, not one you even tried. Even when the trial was happening, none of you defended me!” He waved his bloodied knife wildly at them, his hand steady. “None of you denied that I was the one who killed that girl!”

“Are you saying that you weren’t the one who killed her?” Abdel asked. His voice sounded calm, but there was real fear in his eyes.

“Yes,” Mav answered. “I was framed, unjustly imprisoned.”

“But your psychopathy test results,” Tallia began.

“They were faked!” Mav insisted. “It was that stupid psychologist! She was paid off!”

“Paid off by who?” Noah asked. “Mav, who could’ve possibly wanted to frame you?”

Mav shook his head, grinning again. “I’m afraid that you won’t get information out of me that easily.” He gestured to his cards. “I have a new game to play. Guess the colour of the card correctly, I will answer a question from the one who guessed correctly. Guess wrong…” Mav looked back at Sean. “Well, Sean’s finger was just the beginning of my creativity.”

“You’re insane,” Sean spat.

“Oh, you don’t even know the start of it,” Mav drawled. He picked up his cards. “Stryker, I believe the turn order has gone back to you.”

Stryker looked around, fear visible in his eyes. “Black,” he finally said.

Mav flipped the next card. Jack of clubs. The friends let out a collective sigh of relief. “Correct,” Mav said. “Ask your question.”

“Who framed you?” Stryker asked.

“Someone in this room,” Mav answered. He turned to Tallia. “Red or black?”

“Hey, that’s a bullshit answer!” Stryker protested.

“I never said that I would give a straight answer,” returned Mav, “otherwise this game would be over far too quickly, before I’ve even had the time to have some fun.” He looked Tallia in the eye. “Red or black?”

Noah heard Tallia swallow hard. “Black.”

Mav flipped the top card. It revealed the seven of hearts. Mav laughed hysterically, as if he had just been told a funny joke. “Wrong!” Noah moved to protect Tallia from whatever Mav had planned for her, but Mav was faster. His arm was a blur, light glinting off the blade of his knife as he quickly shot out his hand and stabbed it through Tallia’s right hand. Tallia cried out in pain, tears running down her cheeks.

“You bastard,” Noah growled. “I’ll kill you–”

“You won’t,” Mav said.

“We outnumber you,” Stryker pointed out. “We could easily overpower you.”

At this, Mav began to laugh again. “You are welcome to try.” Mav reached under the coffee table and pulled out a black brick. No, not a black brick. It was an explosive. And Mav now held the detonator in his hand. “Make a move to kill or harm me, and I will press this button,” he said, hovering his finger over the red button of the detonator. “We will all die. At least if you play my game, you have a chance to live. Well, some of you might.”

Mav put the explosive on the coffee table and looked at Noah. “Now, red or black?”

Noah glanced at Tallia. Mav had left the knife in her hand, her blood dripping down her hand and in between her fingers. “Red,” he said, not taking his eyes off Tallia.

Mav flipped the next card. The ace of diamonds. “Correct.”

Now, Noah looked back at Mav. “What happened to you in the Black House?”

Mav observed Noah with narrowed eyes, silently. For a moment, Noah thought that he wouldn’t answer. And then, “They gave us, the people interred at the institute, something that they called ‘tough love.’” He closed his eyes as if remembering a painful memory. “They tortured me. Beat me. Played with my mind with their pills and made me feel like it was my fault that they were doing all this to me.”

“Mav,” Tallia gasped. “We’re so, so sorry that you were treated that way. But we had nothing to do with the reason that you were sent there.”

“No,” Mav insisted. “One of you framed me. One of you is the reason

I was put in the Black House, and I know which of you it was.” He scowled. “But the rest of you did not defend me, did not try to get me out of there.” He shook his head and turned to Abdel. “Red or black?” he asked stiffly.

After a moment of hesitation, Abdel said, “Black.”

Mav flipped the next card over slowly. It bore the ten of clubs. “Ask your question.”

“No more games,” Abdel said hoarsely, as if he’d been yelling. “Just tell us. Who framed you?”

The crazed humour in Mav had gone away. He was tense and bore a viscous scowl as he turned around and said, “Sean.”

The friends’ heads snapped towards Sean. Stryker, who sat next to him, leaned back from him.

“Is it true?” Noah asked Sean. “Did you kill that girl?” He stood up. “Did you frame Mav?”

“Yes,” Sean replied, almost instantly.

“Why?” Tallia asked, her breath choppy.

Sean stood up. “She pissed me off.” He shrugged. “So I killed her.”

“But why frame Mav?” Noah asked.

“Because I knew that he would be the easiest to pin it on,” Sean answered. He leered at Mav. “He had no alibi for that night. He didn't have enough money to hire a good lawyer.” He chuckled. “It was easy enough to pay off the psychologist. And my dad knows people. He was the one who managed to get Mav put in the Black House instead of a normal mental hospital.”

“You knew what happened in the Black House?” Abdel demanded.

“I knew that many who are interred there are rarely seen again,” Sean said. “Honestly, I was surprised that you were let out so early.”

While this was happening, Noah was looking at Stryker. Noah blinked at him, many times, in a specific pattern. When they were in grade 9, Noah and Stryker had learned morse code so that they could talk to each other in class without getting in trouble by their teachers. Mav had not noticed that after he had attacked Sean, Noah had begun to record their conversation on his phone, which he had in his pocket. The two had been communicating with each other the whole time, coming up with a plan. Now, he told Stryker one word: NOW.

Immediately, Stryker tackled Mav to the ground, causing him to drop the detonator. While the two fought on the floor, Noah threw a punch at Sean’s face, getting him in the nose and knocking him over. Quickly, Noah ran back to Tallia.

“Breath, babe,” Noah told Tallia as he gripped the handle of the knife. Mav had stabbed it into the couch itself, stopping when it reached wood. In one quick motion, Noah yanked hard on the knife, pulling it out of the leather of the couch and Tallia’s hand. She screamed again as Noah dropped the knife on the ground and pulled her off the couch.

“Run!” Stryker yelled at them as he fought Mav. He had gained the upper hand, his legs straddling Mav as he threw punch after punch, some hitting their mark, most hitting Mav’s arms which covered his face.

“We’re not leaving you here!” Noah yelled back. He was now standing with Tallia, who was cradling her hand, and Abdel. 

“One of us needs to hold these bastards off!” Stryker was losing his advantage as Mav squirmed beneath him. “Get out of here! Get to the police!”

Noah’s head snapped to look at Sean as he rose from the ground, groaning and livid. Noah cursed as he pulled out his phone. He pressed the stop button on the recording and handed it to Abdel. “Get her out of here.”

“No,” Tallia protested. “We’re not leaving without you.”

“Stryker can’t hold off Seana and Mav alone,” Noah argued. He took her face in his hands. “I’ll be fine. Go!”

Abdel took Tallia’s hand and ran through the hallway leading to the front door. As Noah heard the door slam shut, he grabbed Mav’s knife from the ground and slashed Sean’s forearm as he lunged for the detonator. Furious, Sean drew a knife of his own from somewhere on his person. Noah realized, as he squared up against Sean and Stryker continued to fight Mav, that the odds of all of them surviving the night was slim.