Page 20 of Karma

Sam doesn’t know it yet, but we’re through. I’ve already packed a bag and tucked it under the couch. As soon as this night from hell is over, I’m getting the fuck out of this godforsaken town and never looking back. But there’s always the risk that Sam could come after me. Maybe keeping this guy around as a personal attack dog isn’t such a bad idea.

Before any of that, though, I need to know who killed my father, and I need to make them pay. If I have to kill everyone in front of me to get answers, so be it. Karma is coming, and she’s not taking anyone’s shit anymore.

The queen of darkness lets me put on my pants. How nice of her. Maybe she’s done torturing my cock and balls. I sit with my pants unzipped and unbuttoned, the fabric spread to expose the fine, dark hairs.

Speaking of the queen of darkness, where is she? She left pretty soon after my hand was inside her. I bring that hand up to my nose and smell the remnants of her sweet cunt on my fingers.

Who knew karma would smell so sinful?

I stare at the clock. It’s pushing seven a.m. It’s too late to get to the party now. Fuck me. She might as well kill me at this point. They’ll do it if she doesn’t, and I’d rather it happens at her fucked-up, pretty little hands.

I hear noises outside the closed door. Harsh whispers rise to a discernable sound, and I realize it’s her voice saying, “Absolutely not. You can’t do that.”

What can’t he do?

And then I hear a smack.

She shrieks, and I lean against the chain.

Here’s the thing, I don’t think I deserve much of anything in the world, but I could deserve her. If nothing else, I can treat her better than her current choice of man. Even with a couple holes in my nut sack, I still never thought to hit her, though she probably fucking deserved it in that moment.

The door whips open and her boyfriend carries a box into the room. What now? What new torture device has she come up with for me? Not that it matters. I’d probably give up the Exodus at this point because I’m going to die anyway.

But I won’t give any information tohim. Only her.

Karma skulks out from behind him, her hand on her right cheek. She drops it and raises her chin stoically, despite the red flush of his handprint on her face. I don’t need his name on a list to want to kill him.

“Who do you work for?” his deep voice asks as he sets the box on the ground.

“Fuck. Off,” I say.

“I thought you’d say that.” He lifts the lid off the box, and two big black ears rise over the cardboard edge.

He didn’t.

“When I found out you had a son, I thought he’d be a great bargaining chip. But then I found this.”

He picks up Petey, and the rabbit takes a gnarly chunk out of his hand. He bites everyone but me.

“Fucker,” Sam hisses as he throws my rabbit back into the box. He shoves the lid in place and turns his rabid eyes toward me as he draws a knife from his belt. He holds the blade down,twisting the sharp tip on the box lid. “Who do you fucking work for?” Blood drips from the wound in his hand and rolls down the knife handle.

He wouldn’t.

“Don’t!” the girl says, eyes wide.

She rushes toward the box to pull it out from under his blade, but he grips her arm to stop her. He puts the knife between his teeth and punches her in the face. Her body slides across the floor and lands with a bang against the dresser. The lamp leaps from the table and shatters at her feet.

I crawl to the very end of my chain and lean toward her.

Not my karma.

Before I can turn back toward the walking-talking piece of flaming-hot shit, I hear the sound of the blade slicing through cardboard. I close my eyes, almost too afraid to look, but I force myself. I turn and see the handle, so I reach for it, straining to catch a corner of the cardboard.

Not my fucking rabbit.

“You fucker!” I yell, straining against the metal holding me back. This is worse than everything else they’ve done to me. None of that mattered. What matters is that rabbit and that girl.

I hear a squeal as the metal pole strains against my weight and rage. Say what you will about the Exodus, but they made me into this feral animal on a chain. The sheer strength and willpower they forced out of me strains the metal’s integrity until it gives, breaking off from the base and throwing me forward onto my hands and knees.

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