Page 6 of Karma

My attention catches on red ribbons, and, with my gaze, I follow the trail of aerial silk to the ceiling. Men and women twirl within the fabric, their bodies contorting and hanging in ways that seem impossible. I turn and spy a woman hanging upside down from the balcony railing. Her neck is split wide open, and her blood falls to a cascading tower of small glasses.

That could have been me ten years ago. An empty sacrifice for them to drink from.

I look up at the balcony, the second floor giving the gold masks a full view of the main floor. Someone leaps onto my back, his gold bird mask coming to rest beside mine.

“Hey, Knox!” he says, and I know that voice. It’s Adam.

I inwardly cringe, but I know better than to show him my disdain. I clear my throat and muster a believable, “Hey!”

Adam struts in front of me, a proud peacock in a sea of suits. Nothing makes a born man feel more on top of the world than the night of the Reckoning. In his mind, I’m sure he’s walking on water instead of the hardwoods beneath our feet. He’s a god in his head.

He flips the mask over his face. The sharp downturn of the golden beak gives him an ominous look akin to those plague masks from the seventeenth century. “Are you ready for tonight?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

He fists my shirt beneath my jacket and shakes me. It makes me want to sock him in the throat. He’s so amped, and I can only assume he’s been pre-gaming with something a little more hardcore than the liquor on offer. He verifies this as he steps back, pulls a bag of white powder from his pocket, and snorts a line off his hand.

“Take it easy there,” I warn.

“Tonight is the night to do anything we want. Get high, fuck, kill. This place is fucking ours!” he says, his voice rising with every syllable until he’s shouting at me. The arteries and veins in his neck strain against his thin skin. This dude’s going to have a heart attack if he’s not careful. “We are fucking gods, Knox!”

If by gods he means we decide who lives and dies, he’s wrong. The names on this list are from the people who act as gods and decide who will be eliminated. If you serve no purpose in their estimation or if you dare to go against them, you end up on the list. Such fragile egos with these people.

Or maybe that’s how they’ve maintained control for so long. Kill all threats to your secrecy. Get rid of any loose ends.

“We’re gods tonight!” I say, though I don’t feel much like one. I don’t feel like I blend in with these people at all. But I’m not about to argue with his blasphemy.

I’ll be what I truly am, though, and I’m no god. I’m a fallen angel, just like Lucifer.

“Come drink!” Adam motions me toward the bloody fountain.

We pull glasses from the tier, and I hope he doesn’t see the hesitation in my movements. I’m not really into blood like they are. I don’t believe it will infuse me with any kind of strength or power, and it doesn’t provide good luck or whatever juju they believe in. But I take a swig with Adam because, despite not feeling like I’m part of them, Iampart of them. And that means drinking up the sacrifice I almost became.

Full circle.

After I swallow the harsh, sticky, metallic liquid, Adam thrusts a beer against my chest. I gladly pop open the cap and take a sip to wash away the blood coating my mouth, then stare up at the lady above us. She’s naked, her tits sagging toward the floor. Her throat hangs open like a gaping mouth, and blood still drips from the wound. She hasn’t been dead long.

I wonder who brought this party favor? How many more are there tonight?

Turning to Adam, I raise my beer and take another swig. This woman won’t be the only sacrifice. We’re required to bring one of our own later.

The girl from this morning flashes into my mind. While I would love to see her again, I don’t want to see her tonight. I protected her from the piece of shit who was beating on her, but I won’t be able to protect her if Adam sets his sights on her. He likes to break pretty things, and if he sees her, I can almost guarantee he’ll want to bring her in.

Hopefully, she’s miles out of town by now. If not, she’d better have a very good hiding place.

Rough brick meets my palms as we take a moment to rest and listen. Running amongst the shadows is exhausting. I touch a bruise forming on my shoulder as I stare at Sam’s back. I don’t understand what I do to make him so angry. If I’m as terrible as he claims I am, why is he with me?

He knows why I’m with him. He caught me in his web when I was in the prime of my daddy-issues phase. And by daddy issues, I mean the fact that my daddy is dead. Abandonment issues of the most permanent kind. He used that to his advantage, securing me in silk until I couldn’t leave.

I thought he wanted to take care of me, but he was only ensuring I had no finances with which to leave him. I believed heloved me, but I now know that he only loves two things: himself and control. Now...I’m stuck.

A scream breaks through the quiet, coming from the other side of the building we’re hunkered down behind. I look around for somewhere better to hide. A rusty dumpster stands in the alleyway, and when I look back at Sam, he nods. We rush for it as the screams grow closer.

I peel back the lid and shudder at the mingling, fetid scents of decaying food matter, sour milk, and piss concentrate. Looking back toward the source of the sounds, I consider the alternative to diving face first into this cesspool, but the screams have become noisy footsteps.

And they’re drawing closer.

Fuck.

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