He knew all my secrets, he knew all my lies… or so he liked to believe. We’d been here time and time again. Staring across the table intently. The anger and bitterness. Sometimes even tears.

But in the end, one of us always triumphed. Usually it was me, but this time I was determined not to gloat. Sure I would celebrate in the normal way. I would dance, probably even sing a victory song, or two, but I deserved it.

He sat smug. He thought he had me this time. His eyes watched mine intently. I never blinked. Never gave away my nervousness. I saw the move, but I couldn’t take it back. Not now. I had already taken my hand away.

What had started as a simple game of Chinese Checkers between family had turned into a full out not so Civil War. I always chose red for the blood that was to be shed. He chose blue, for the tears that would flow from the defeated.

Here we were. The last two standing. Only three moves left. In his haste to grab victory, he jerked his hand away and I moved in for the kill.