I didn’t sleep last night. I was dreaming, my eyes just didn’t close.
In my dream, I was back in the greenbelt, playing in the cattails. We’d come down the hill on our bikes, looking for a place to store them while we explored the sewage tunnels. The brown stalks rose up just barely within our reach. The sun beat down on us.
Andrew was in the front—just a few steps away from the entrance to the tunnel—when a voice shouted out at us.
“Hey, shitheads! This is our spot!”
They must have been at least fifteen years old. Much older than us. Even older than Andrew, who was older than me. We both darted off in different directions. I ran as far to the right as I could, crouching down behind a rock. I stayed there for a minute, tasting my heartbeat like blood in my mouth. On the other side of the field, I could hear screaming and the distinct sound of thumping against someone’s skin. They must’ve been throwing cattails at each other. I stood up to grab one from its stem, having to get up on my toes just to reach it before crouching down again. More yelling rang out in the distance.
I had to do something. There was no way I was going to get my bike back if I didn’t do something. I had to stand up, but my knees were weak. I could feel my pulse on the bottom of my feet. Counting down from five, I slowly got up, holding my cattail close to my chest. I’d use it if I had to. I counted again before turning around to head towards the sewer, walking about three steps before stopping dead in my tracks. A rustling came from the right, and then a shape. My heartbeat grew even faster.
In front of me was a boy. He was tall, his head obstructing the sun from my view. His eyes were dead. Emotionless. Strands of hair, wet with sweat, fell down his forehead, dripping onto his shirt. He breathed slowly.
In his left hand, he held a knife.
Of course I’d seen a knife before; Andrew even showed me the cool one he bought in Arizona. This one wasn’t like that. It was small, with ridges on one end like a saw. It was completely black, even the handle. It made my throat contract. I could feel the hair on my arms stick up suddenly, poking my skin. My head got blurry.
I looked him in the eye, and he looked me in mine. We stood there for a few seconds, looking at each other, before he continued on.
I sat up, my eyes dry and red, dizzy like I was spinning. I got up from my mattress and went to the bathroom, splashing water on my face, hoping it would make up for my lack of blinking. I stepped out and looked through the window. It was late in the day. The sun seemed to just be setting. I’d told myself I would go to the party on Redwood Street. I was supposed to know some people that were going. I thought about showering for a minute, but then I decided against it, not remembering if I had already showered earlier. I looked at the mirror on my door.
My hair was getting too long, my black bangs running down in front of my eyes and touching the tip of my nose. There was a bit of scruff on my face. I figured I could go to the party in what I was in, even if I smelled a little musty.
I walked out of my bedroom door into the main room, stumbling around a little bit in the dark before finding my shoes and putting them on. I put my watch on and shoved my keys in my pocket before leaving through the back door. It was getting dark outside, but the street still radiated with heat. All I could hear was the buzz of the electrical lines and the distant sound of traffic. There was a puddle just outside my door (the kind that got mixed with gasoline so it had those weird green swirls), so I stepped over it and headed down the street, turning left. I walked for a few minutes, thinking about who I was gonna know at this party. Likely nobody except the guy that invited me. I forgot his name, but he was tall and had a buzz cut. I really should’ve remembered his name.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and followed the directions on the invitation. I made my way down the road for a few minutes before realizing I’d gone the wrong way. The house I’d stopped in front of was big and white with some nicely trimmed bushes. It had a little white front door that was slightly open with two people conversing loudly behind it. I flipped around and started making my way back, but as I did, I looked through the front windshield of a red Ford Bronco parked on the street.
On the passenger side seat, there was a brand-new pistol sitting in its box. It was midnight black with some silver finishes and at least a five-inch barrel. I walked around to the passenger window for a closer look, and I noticed that the window was slightly cracked. I put my phone
back in my pocket and turned, looking at the house. The people had gotten a little louder.
I turned back towards the car and walked up to the window, checking over my shoulder again before shoving my right hand through the crack in the window, getting down to my mid-forearm before I felt resistance. I turned back to the house. The conversation seemed to have turned into
an argument.
I started to push my arm through the crack with only enough force that the window wouldn’t shatter. It left white lines on my arm where it met the roof of the car. I pushed enough to make it to my elbow, getting hooked on the joint. I wiggled my arm around inside of the car. The air was slightly lighter than the air outside. I started to adjust my arm around to try and get my elbow to slip through, but I didn’t have much luck. I got up onto my toes and put my shoulder into it, tripping a bit as I did, pressing my elbow into a pinch. Pain shot up my arm as I realized I hit my funny bone. My fingers started to go numb, and I felt like falling to my knees. Sweat started to drip down my forehead onto my nose, itching it and almost making me sneeze. I wiped it away with my other hand. I twisted my arm around to the other side, adjusting my stance along with it, and I was able to get my elbow past the threshold. I pushed further into the car, scraping my arm as I went. The muscle in my bicep shifted around unnaturally to contort around the window until I made it to my shoulder.
Looking back at the door, I could see it had opened a little wider, revealing a hand on the inner doorknob. The shouting began ringing in my ears. My heart started pumping in my head and my hands began to shake, so I made a grab at the gun. My middle finger brushed the surface of the handle, and I could feel a rough texture rubbing my skin like sandpaper. I tried getting on my toes again to see if I could get my arm in any farther, but I was only able to barely get my ring finger to touch as well. The skin on my shoulder began to peel back, causing blood to drip down onto the window in a stream. I only needed to push a little bit further when I looked back to see the door open fully with two people exposed in the frame.
A woman was standing there with her arms flailing around wildly. She was yelling at a man who stood there with his arms crossed. His expression was blank, but there were tears streaming
down his face. The woman looked like she was about to head my way.
I ripped my arm away from the window, slamming my elbow back into the roof of the car, hitting my funny bone once again as the skin of my bicep ripped open in a gash. The numbness spread all the way from my fingers to my neck as blood began to form on the street beneath the car. I pulled the rest of my arm out before turning to walk back down the sidewalk. I clutched my arm as I shuffled away from the house. I heard a loud noise ring out from the direction of the front door like splintering wood, but I decided it best not to check.
I walked in the direction that my phone decided I should go, this time paying as close attention as possible. I went a few blocks before turning right again, and then I walked straight until I reached my destination. In front of me was a house. I walked up to the front door and knocked. Inside, I could hear loud electronic music that didn’t seem to have a rhythm and hundreds of voices chattering in the same tone. I waited about fifteen seconds before someone answered the door.
“What’s up! You know Gurney?” He had to shout so I could hear him over the crowd.
“Uh, yeah. I think so.”
I didn’t think that that was his name.
“Sick, dude! Come on in!”
He let me in the house then closed the door behind me and rejoined the crowd. The room in front of me was packed to the brim with people, most of whom were jumping up and down, though not to the beat. On my right was a dining room that led into a kitchen and on my left was a set of stairs that led up to a balcony overlooking the main room. On the top were people dangling their legs through the railing and leaning against one another. The house looked like it might have belonged to a suburban family, with beige walls and a lofted ceiling. In the back, there was one giant window that took up most of the wall.
I looked around the crowd to see if I recognized anybody, but I didn’t, so I made my way right. I walked through the dining room and to the kitchen where there was a big bowl of red liquid sitting on the counter. I sniffed it, and it smelled like antiseptic.
“It’s punch.”
A girl was leaning against the refrigerator to my right holding a cup full of it. She had short black hair and large circular glasses with a tight, long-sleeved black shirt and low-rise jeans. She looked at me like she didn’t like me.
“What’s in it?”
“I’m not sure. Knowing Gurney I would guess Malört.”
“Is that, like, alcohol?”
She raised her eyebrow at me. “Yeah, man, that’s alcohol. Never had it?”
“No. I don’t drink.”
She set her cup down on the counter near the bowl and looked down at my arm. “That’s a nasty cut. How’d you get it?”
I grabbed the gash on my bicep. It was throbbing. “I got it trying to break into a car.”
“Sweet.” She pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and put it in her mouth. She opened a drawer under the counter and pulled out a long lighter, clicking it on and holding it up to her cigarette. She took a big breath in, the embers climbing up nearly half of the cigarette, before blowing smoke back in my face. It made my eyes sting.
“You smoke?”
She took the cigarette out of her mouth with her index and middle fingers and offered it to me.
“Sure.”
I took the cigarette with my index finger and thumb and held it up to my mouth. I could feel the dampness of her lips on the base as I breathed in as much as I could. I tried holding it for a second, but I could feel it seeping out of my nose, making me cough.
She laughed at that. “You’re a funny guy. You know that?”
“I guess.” I handed the cigarette back to her, feeling her fingers drift across mine. She threw the rest of the cigarette on the floor and stomped it out, looking me in the eyes as she did.
“Are you a virgin?”
I thought that was a strange question to ask.
“No.”
“Do you want to go to the other room?”
She pressed her right arm against my left, running her fingers across my knuckles. She was a little bit shorter than me, and she looked up into my eyes without tilting her head. Her eyes were dark green, and they swirled like they were in a haze. I felt my face flush.
“Yeah. I’d do that.”
She grabbed me by my hand and dragged me through the dining room into the main room. We made our way up the stairs to the door at the end of the hallway, passing by the people with the dangling legs. She opened the door to a closet only a few feet wide, stepping in.
“Come on. Get in.”
I stepped into the doorway when she reached around me and closed the door, pressing up against me. It was dark, and I could feel her body against mine and her hot breath on my face. She smelled like punch.
“Take off my top.”
I supposed I might as well not waste time, so I reached down to grab the bottom of her shirt, pulling it up over her head. It got a little caught on her arms as I pulled, but with enough force it came off. She then went to take off my shirt, which she did with ease. I could feel her soft skin
against mine; the fabric of her bra stretched thin against her chest. Our hips met and she put her leg between mine, causing our noses to touch.
“Now take off my bra with your teeth.”
“How would I do that?”
“Just rip it.”
I moved my head around her’s and looked down at her back. The strap of her bra was sitting on her spine. I lowered my head down, trying to get my teeth around it, but I came up way short.
“Do it from the front, idiot.”
She grabbed me by the ear and yanked me down into a crouch so that I was eye level with her chest. I could see the lacy bits of the fabric rippling like waves on the top part. It was a wonderful sight to see. I moved my mouth up and grabbed the waves with my teeth.
“Like this?”
“Good job. Now pull.”
I jerked my head back with force, feeling my teeth catch as I did, shifting them uncomfortably. It took about three seconds of pulling before it came off with a loud crack. My head snapped back with the force, causing the nerve near my shoulder to pull. She grabbed my ear again and yanked me back up to her face.
“You broke my strap.”
I winced.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
She kissed me on the mouth. She tasted like grapefruit as she breathed smoke down my throat. I could feel her teeth clinking against mine. I closed my eyes and sank into her, kissing her back. I felt her tongue rub against my lower lip. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot up my arm.
“Ahh...!”
I pulled away from her and looked down. She was pressing her thumb into the gash on my bicep. Blood started to seep out, and the perimeter of the cut started turning yellow.
“Ouch...”
“Touch me.”
She pressed even harder into the cut, making my vision blur. She steered me back farther into the closet, causing bottles and paper towels to fall from the shelves she bumped into. She grabbed the front of my pants and unzipped them, hopping up onto a cabinet as she wrapped her legs
around me. The pain from my cut was making me dizzy. I lifted my free hand and placed it on her chest as she let out a sigh. Her chest was soft. I tried squeezing.
“Good.”
She glided her hand down my lower abdomen, giving me goosebumps. The pain in my arm almost made me throw up, and I retracted my arm.
“Come down to my cheek.”
I lowered my face down to her right ear, listening. As I did, she dug her thumb even deeper, making me stagger. As I tripped, she put her teeth around my ear. “Don’t make me bite it off.”
“What?” I jerked my head a little and I felt her teeth dig into the base of my ear. A drop of blood trickled down my jaw.
“Grab me.” She took her hand off my abdomen and grabbed my arm, pulling it back to her chest. “Keep squeezing.”
I did, and she started breathing heavily. I could feel her hot breath on my ear, condensation forming on the interior, making it hard to hear. I could feel her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth. I began squeezing harder, and her breath grew more intense as I did. She put her hand
back on my stomach, lowering it down into my pants, making me jump. This was Heaven on earth. I continued squeezing for a bit, hoping she thought so too.
“Am I doing this right?”
She took her mouth away from my ear. I felt cool air sting the now damp skin. She moved her head down to my neck and kissed it before answering. “You’re a champ.”
I felt hot pain flare up on my ear lobe like it had been stung by a bee. “Ow! What was that?”
I contorted my head around to look at her. As I did, her head slumped down into her chest. Her hand had gone limp in my pants, and she began slipping off the counter. She fell into my chest, and I caught her. I sat her back up on the counter and tilted her head up. Her eyes were closed, and she was snoring. A snot bubble was forming in her nose, slowly rising and falling. I raised my hand up to my ear, trying to touch the lobe. It was gone. When I looked in her mouth, I saw it sitting on her tongue.
I took her arm out of my pants and placed it in her lap. Then I grabbed her other arm by the wrist and attempted to yank it out of my cut. It caught on something and caused a pulling sensation that felt like a bullet passing through my bone. I winced and shifted my grip to her thumb, pulling it out lightly. There was purple blood on it, dripping down onto the floor. She had dry blood caked under her nail as well. I placed this arm on top of the other one and then wiped the
blood off with my pants.
I looked around for my shirt for a second without much luck, then I picked up a roll of paper towel. I unrolled a large sheet and ripped it off, putting it over her like a blanket before making my way to the door. My ears were ringing and my heartbeat wouldn’t settle. I opened the door.
Light pierced my eyes, fluorescent rays of neon torturing my retinas. I could feel the chaotic music beat against my eardrums, causing my head to thump. I tripped out of the closet, grabbing the wall to keep myself steady. It seemed like the crowd had gotten bigger; endless swaths of
partygoers poured across the main floor, rippling like waves. I shuffled my feet forward, headed for the stairs. My legs felt like mud, falling apart in clots in a slow march.
As I passed, I saw that the people on the railing had stripped off their clothes, laying naked with one another. Some of them had risen to their feet, pressing each other against the railing. It looked like they might tumble over it. I forced myself to continue moving, dragging my feet all
the way to the top of the stairs. The blood dripping from my missing earlobe stained the carpet. I attempted to step down to the top step, but my legs gave out, making me slip as I fell down a few stairs at a time, sliding on my back to the bottom. I sat at the bottom for a while as people passed by. Eventually, I grabbed the railing and pulled myself up, leaning on my shoulder for support.
I looked out at the crowd. Faces had become indistinguishable. Each feature had smashed together into a formless blob. I made my way back towards the front door, bumping into people as I went. I reached the entrance and placed my forehead against the door, taking long breaths. I
felt my chest get tight and my throat contract, and I thought I may have been getting sick. My limbs had grown achy, each movement adding to my discomfort. I placed my fist against the door and pushed myself back, turning to look at the dining room. It was empty, so I made my
way towards it. I walked through the dining room, my feet burning against the carpet. As I did, I bumped my knee into the table. It immediately went numb. I pushed on into the kitchen.
On the counter next to the punchbowl was a couple. The man was laying on the counter as the woman mounted him, moving her hips. Both were sweating profusely as their collective stench filled the room.
Next to them has a larger man who looked to be older, about forty or so. He was watching the couple with sunken eyes, sipping on punch. His hairline had receded back to the top of his head. He glanced over at me. “Do you know what they’re doing?”
“I think so.”
“What are you doing?”
I didn’t respond.
He set his cup down and took a step towards me. “Have you been here before?”
“No, I haven’t. This is my first time.”
“Well I’ve been here. I’ve been here loads of times before. And I’ve never seen you here.”
He stepped forward until he was right in front of me. My eyes reached up to about his neck. He stared down at me.
“I’ve never seen you. Not once. And that’s not normal. I’ve seen everyone here. And I’ve never seen you here.”
I looked back at the couple. They had both taken their shirts off.
“But that’s okay, man. That’s okay. Because I know everyone here.”
He patted me on both shoulders, his large hands hitting me like tree trunks. He stepped back and smiled at me before returning to his corner, sipping on his punch. I turned around and looked out at the main room. The ocean of people had grown larger. I set my hands against the counter and looked down. Sitting on the counter right between my hands was a large knife. The blade was made of swirls of black and silver, a beautiful cacophony of dazzling paisleys, each stroke of color dancing in perfect harmony. The handle looked like it was made of mahogany. It looked just like Andrew’s.
I picked it up and felt its weight. It was heavy in my hand, putting strain on my forearm. I liked the way it looked contrasted against my skin. Just then, the music stopped. A loud screech rang out. In the crowd, I saw a figure step up onto a windowsill holding a microphone. The glint of the silver head flashed a light into my eyes, making me squint. The figure began to speak.
“Thank you everyone for coming to my party!” The voice was deep and nasally, with an accent that sounded southern, though only subtly. The
crowd applauded, the sound of clapping filling the house. I felt a horrible feeling in my gut. “It has been an absolute honor to host all y’all here tonight. I hope y’all’ve gotten fucked up!”
Cheers screeched out. I put my hands over my ears, still gripping the knife. I turned to look at the couple. They had turned their attention to the guy talking.
“I just wanted to say thank you to everyone for making an appearance. I will now list those who were integral to making this happen...” He began listing names, each one making my head throb. As he went, the names got louder and louder, making my knees feel weaker each time. It was hard for me to think. I couldn’t latch on to any ideas. Each time I thought I was thinking about something, I would realize I wasn’t. My
ears rang more and more.
I stumbled out of the kitchen back into the dining room, hoping I could set my mind straight. A deep panic was setting in, and I knew it was going to be bad. The guy’s voice continued blaring in my ears. I went out of the other side of the dining room into the entryway. The crowd had
expanded all the way out to the door. I waded my way through them, hoping to reach the stairs. I made it to the base, but they had made its way up there, too. They knew how bad I was doing, and they went up there anyways. Somebody shoved by me, and I fell on my back with a thud. My head was spinning fast.
I thought I was likely going to die here. Why not, right? Wasn’t this how it went? Everything was so loud and so bright. I figured that this was all it would be for eternity. And it was all because of that guy with the microphone. That guy who just wouldn’t shut the fuck up.
The ringing had become unbearable. I closed my eyes tight and put my hands over my ears. I could feel tears gushing down my face. The voice boomed. This was it. Suddenly, I felt a cool breeze flow through my hair and a soft brush against my arm, gliding across my cut. It made the noise in my head dissipate. I cracked my eyes open and slowly lowered my hands to my side. Through my eyelids, I saw tall brown stalks flowing in a rhythm in front of me. Their stems rose just above my head.
I felt the noise grow quieter. The pressure in my ears dissipated. I could feel my limbs, the cut in my arm regaining feeling as well. I sat up, looking back at the crowd. I could distinguish faces again. In the center, there was the guy. He was jumping up and down with the crowd like a
jackass. I got up to my feet and made my way to the center, running my hands through the plants. I pushed my way through dancing crowds, until I was face to face with the guy. He didn’t notice me. He was still holding the microphone.
The light reflecting off the silver hit my eyes again, making me blink.
I gripped the knife tighter in my hand and raised it above my head, swinging it down with force and plunging it directly into his rib cage. Blood burst out from the wound, splattering against the brown stalks like fireworks. My face got soaked. I could feel the stickiness running down my nose.
The guy fell to the ground as gasps rang out in the crowd. The people around me cleared as they shuffled their feet back, trying to stop their shoes from getting stained. My eyes met with the guy’s. I could see the light leave him, his pupils glazing over and growing dull. I released the
handle of the knife, letting him fall against the floor with a thump. Someone in the crowd let out a scream.
I looked down at my hands and was surprised to see them covered in red. I blinked a couple of times. My bicep burned in pain. I felt my ear sting. The crowd panicked and fled through the door. The cattails had gone away.
I got up and left.
back to top
In my dream, I was back in the greenbelt, playing in the cattails. We’d come down the hill on our bikes, looking for a place to store them while we explored the sewage tunnels. The brown stalks rose up just barely within our reach. The sun beat down on us.
Andrew was in the front—just a few steps away from the entrance to the tunnel—when a voice shouted out at us.
“Hey, shitheads! This is our spot!”
They must have been at least fifteen years old. Much older than us. Even older than Andrew, who was older than me. We both darted off in different directions. I ran as far to the right as I could, crouching down behind a rock. I stayed there for a minute, tasting my heartbeat like blood in my mouth. On the other side of the field, I could hear screaming and the distinct sound of thumping against someone’s skin. They must’ve been throwing cattails at each other. I stood up to grab one from its stem, having to get up on my toes just to reach it before crouching down again. More yelling rang out in the distance.
I had to do something. There was no way I was going to get my bike back if I didn’t do something. I had to stand up, but my knees were weak. I could feel my pulse on the bottom of my feet. Counting down from five, I slowly got up, holding my cattail close to my chest. I’d use it if I had to. I counted again before turning around to head towards the sewer, walking about three steps before stopping dead in my tracks. A rustling came from the right, and then a shape. My heartbeat grew even faster.
In front of me was a boy. He was tall, his head obstructing the sun from my view. His eyes were dead. Emotionless. Strands of hair, wet with sweat, fell down his forehead, dripping onto his shirt. He breathed slowly.
In his left hand, he held a knife.
Of course I’d seen a knife before; Andrew even showed me the cool one he bought in Arizona. This one wasn’t like that. It was small, with ridges on one end like a saw. It was completely black, even the handle. It made my throat contract. I could feel the hair on my arms stick up suddenly, poking my skin. My head got blurry.
I looked him in the eye, and he looked me in mine. We stood there for a few seconds, looking at each other, before he continued on.
***
I sat up, my eyes dry and red, dizzy like I was spinning. I got up from my mattress and went to the bathroom, splashing water on my face, hoping it would make up for my lack of blinking. I stepped out and looked through the window. It was late in the day. The sun seemed to just be setting. I’d told myself I would go to the party on Redwood Street. I was supposed to know some people that were going. I thought about showering for a minute, but then I decided against it, not remembering if I had already showered earlier. I looked at the mirror on my door.
My hair was getting too long, my black bangs running down in front of my eyes and touching the tip of my nose. There was a bit of scruff on my face. I figured I could go to the party in what I was in, even if I smelled a little musty.
I walked out of my bedroom door into the main room, stumbling around a little bit in the dark before finding my shoes and putting them on. I put my watch on and shoved my keys in my pocket before leaving through the back door. It was getting dark outside, but the street still radiated with heat. All I could hear was the buzz of the electrical lines and the distant sound of traffic. There was a puddle just outside my door (the kind that got mixed with gasoline so it had those weird green swirls), so I stepped over it and headed down the street, turning left. I walked for a few minutes, thinking about who I was gonna know at this party. Likely nobody except the guy that invited me. I forgot his name, but he was tall and had a buzz cut. I really should’ve remembered his name.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and followed the directions on the invitation. I made my way down the road for a few minutes before realizing I’d gone the wrong way. The house I’d stopped in front of was big and white with some nicely trimmed bushes. It had a little white front door that was slightly open with two people conversing loudly behind it. I flipped around and started making my way back, but as I did, I looked through the front windshield of a red Ford Bronco parked on the street.
On the passenger side seat, there was a brand-new pistol sitting in its box. It was midnight black with some silver finishes and at least a five-inch barrel. I walked around to the passenger window for a closer look, and I noticed that the window was slightly cracked. I put my phone
back in my pocket and turned, looking at the house. The people had gotten a little louder.
I turned back towards the car and walked up to the window, checking over my shoulder again before shoving my right hand through the crack in the window, getting down to my mid-forearm before I felt resistance. I turned back to the house. The conversation seemed to have turned into
an argument.
I started to push my arm through the crack with only enough force that the window wouldn’t shatter. It left white lines on my arm where it met the roof of the car. I pushed enough to make it to my elbow, getting hooked on the joint. I wiggled my arm around inside of the car. The air was slightly lighter than the air outside. I started to adjust my arm around to try and get my elbow to slip through, but I didn’t have much luck. I got up onto my toes and put my shoulder into it, tripping a bit as I did, pressing my elbow into a pinch. Pain shot up my arm as I realized I hit my funny bone. My fingers started to go numb, and I felt like falling to my knees. Sweat started to drip down my forehead onto my nose, itching it and almost making me sneeze. I wiped it away with my other hand. I twisted my arm around to the other side, adjusting my stance along with it, and I was able to get my elbow past the threshold. I pushed further into the car, scraping my arm as I went. The muscle in my bicep shifted around unnaturally to contort around the window until I made it to my shoulder.
Looking back at the door, I could see it had opened a little wider, revealing a hand on the inner doorknob. The shouting began ringing in my ears. My heart started pumping in my head and my hands began to shake, so I made a grab at the gun. My middle finger brushed the surface of the handle, and I could feel a rough texture rubbing my skin like sandpaper. I tried getting on my toes again to see if I could get my arm in any farther, but I was only able to barely get my ring finger to touch as well. The skin on my shoulder began to peel back, causing blood to drip down onto the window in a stream. I only needed to push a little bit further when I looked back to see the door open fully with two people exposed in the frame.
A woman was standing there with her arms flailing around wildly. She was yelling at a man who stood there with his arms crossed. His expression was blank, but there were tears streaming
down his face. The woman looked like she was about to head my way.
I ripped my arm away from the window, slamming my elbow back into the roof of the car, hitting my funny bone once again as the skin of my bicep ripped open in a gash. The numbness spread all the way from my fingers to my neck as blood began to form on the street beneath the car. I pulled the rest of my arm out before turning to walk back down the sidewalk. I clutched my arm as I shuffled away from the house. I heard a loud noise ring out from the direction of the front door like splintering wood, but I decided it best not to check.
***
I walked in the direction that my phone decided I should go, this time paying as close attention as possible. I went a few blocks before turning right again, and then I walked straight until I reached my destination. In front of me was a house. I walked up to the front door and knocked. Inside, I could hear loud electronic music that didn’t seem to have a rhythm and hundreds of voices chattering in the same tone. I waited about fifteen seconds before someone answered the door.
“What’s up! You know Gurney?” He had to shout so I could hear him over the crowd.
“Uh, yeah. I think so.”
I didn’t think that that was his name.
“Sick, dude! Come on in!”
He let me in the house then closed the door behind me and rejoined the crowd. The room in front of me was packed to the brim with people, most of whom were jumping up and down, though not to the beat. On my right was a dining room that led into a kitchen and on my left was a set of stairs that led up to a balcony overlooking the main room. On the top were people dangling their legs through the railing and leaning against one another. The house looked like it might have belonged to a suburban family, with beige walls and a lofted ceiling. In the back, there was one giant window that took up most of the wall.
I looked around the crowd to see if I recognized anybody, but I didn’t, so I made my way right. I walked through the dining room and to the kitchen where there was a big bowl of red liquid sitting on the counter. I sniffed it, and it smelled like antiseptic.
“It’s punch.”
A girl was leaning against the refrigerator to my right holding a cup full of it. She had short black hair and large circular glasses with a tight, long-sleeved black shirt and low-rise jeans. She looked at me like she didn’t like me.
“What’s in it?”
“I’m not sure. Knowing Gurney I would guess Malört.”
“Is that, like, alcohol?”
She raised her eyebrow at me. “Yeah, man, that’s alcohol. Never had it?”
“No. I don’t drink.”
She set her cup down on the counter near the bowl and looked down at my arm. “That’s a nasty cut. How’d you get it?”
I grabbed the gash on my bicep. It was throbbing. “I got it trying to break into a car.”
“Sweet.” She pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and put it in her mouth. She opened a drawer under the counter and pulled out a long lighter, clicking it on and holding it up to her cigarette. She took a big breath in, the embers climbing up nearly half of the cigarette, before blowing smoke back in my face. It made my eyes sting.
“You smoke?”
She took the cigarette out of her mouth with her index and middle fingers and offered it to me.
“Sure.”
I took the cigarette with my index finger and thumb and held it up to my mouth. I could feel the dampness of her lips on the base as I breathed in as much as I could. I tried holding it for a second, but I could feel it seeping out of my nose, making me cough.
She laughed at that. “You’re a funny guy. You know that?”
“I guess.” I handed the cigarette back to her, feeling her fingers drift across mine. She threw the rest of the cigarette on the floor and stomped it out, looking me in the eyes as she did.
“Are you a virgin?”
I thought that was a strange question to ask.
“No.”
“Do you want to go to the other room?”
She pressed her right arm against my left, running her fingers across my knuckles. She was a little bit shorter than me, and she looked up into my eyes without tilting her head. Her eyes were dark green, and they swirled like they were in a haze. I felt my face flush.
“Yeah. I’d do that.”
She grabbed me by my hand and dragged me through the dining room into the main room. We made our way up the stairs to the door at the end of the hallway, passing by the people with the dangling legs. She opened the door to a closet only a few feet wide, stepping in.
“Come on. Get in.”
I stepped into the doorway when she reached around me and closed the door, pressing up against me. It was dark, and I could feel her body against mine and her hot breath on my face. She smelled like punch.
“Take off my top.”
I supposed I might as well not waste time, so I reached down to grab the bottom of her shirt, pulling it up over her head. It got a little caught on her arms as I pulled, but with enough force it came off. She then went to take off my shirt, which she did with ease. I could feel her soft skin
against mine; the fabric of her bra stretched thin against her chest. Our hips met and she put her leg between mine, causing our noses to touch.
“Now take off my bra with your teeth.”
“How would I do that?”
“Just rip it.”
I moved my head around her’s and looked down at her back. The strap of her bra was sitting on her spine. I lowered my head down, trying to get my teeth around it, but I came up way short.
“Do it from the front, idiot.”
She grabbed me by the ear and yanked me down into a crouch so that I was eye level with her chest. I could see the lacy bits of the fabric rippling like waves on the top part. It was a wonderful sight to see. I moved my mouth up and grabbed the waves with my teeth.
“Like this?”
“Good job. Now pull.”
I jerked my head back with force, feeling my teeth catch as I did, shifting them uncomfortably. It took about three seconds of pulling before it came off with a loud crack. My head snapped back with the force, causing the nerve near my shoulder to pull. She grabbed my ear again and yanked me back up to her face.
“You broke my strap.”
I winced.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
She kissed me on the mouth. She tasted like grapefruit as she breathed smoke down my throat. I could feel her teeth clinking against mine. I closed my eyes and sank into her, kissing her back. I felt her tongue rub against my lower lip. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot up my arm.
“Ahh...!”
I pulled away from her and looked down. She was pressing her thumb into the gash on my bicep. Blood started to seep out, and the perimeter of the cut started turning yellow.
“Ouch...”
“Touch me.”
She pressed even harder into the cut, making my vision blur. She steered me back farther into the closet, causing bottles and paper towels to fall from the shelves she bumped into. She grabbed the front of my pants and unzipped them, hopping up onto a cabinet as she wrapped her legs
around me. The pain from my cut was making me dizzy. I lifted my free hand and placed it on her chest as she let out a sigh. Her chest was soft. I tried squeezing.
“Good.”
She glided her hand down my lower abdomen, giving me goosebumps. The pain in my arm almost made me throw up, and I retracted my arm.
“Come down to my cheek.”
I lowered my face down to her right ear, listening. As I did, she dug her thumb even deeper, making me stagger. As I tripped, she put her teeth around my ear. “Don’t make me bite it off.”
“What?” I jerked my head a little and I felt her teeth dig into the base of my ear. A drop of blood trickled down my jaw.
“Grab me.” She took her hand off my abdomen and grabbed my arm, pulling it back to her chest. “Keep squeezing.”
I did, and she started breathing heavily. I could feel her hot breath on my ear, condensation forming on the interior, making it hard to hear. I could feel her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth. I began squeezing harder, and her breath grew more intense as I did. She put her hand
back on my stomach, lowering it down into my pants, making me jump. This was Heaven on earth. I continued squeezing for a bit, hoping she thought so too.
“Am I doing this right?”
She took her mouth away from my ear. I felt cool air sting the now damp skin. She moved her head down to my neck and kissed it before answering. “You’re a champ.”
I felt hot pain flare up on my ear lobe like it had been stung by a bee. “Ow! What was that?”
I contorted my head around to look at her. As I did, her head slumped down into her chest. Her hand had gone limp in my pants, and she began slipping off the counter. She fell into my chest, and I caught her. I sat her back up on the counter and tilted her head up. Her eyes were closed, and she was snoring. A snot bubble was forming in her nose, slowly rising and falling. I raised my hand up to my ear, trying to touch the lobe. It was gone. When I looked in her mouth, I saw it sitting on her tongue.
I took her arm out of my pants and placed it in her lap. Then I grabbed her other arm by the wrist and attempted to yank it out of my cut. It caught on something and caused a pulling sensation that felt like a bullet passing through my bone. I winced and shifted my grip to her thumb, pulling it out lightly. There was purple blood on it, dripping down onto the floor. She had dry blood caked under her nail as well. I placed this arm on top of the other one and then wiped the
blood off with my pants.
I looked around for my shirt for a second without much luck, then I picked up a roll of paper towel. I unrolled a large sheet and ripped it off, putting it over her like a blanket before making my way to the door. My ears were ringing and my heartbeat wouldn’t settle. I opened the door.
***
Light pierced my eyes, fluorescent rays of neon torturing my retinas. I could feel the chaotic music beat against my eardrums, causing my head to thump. I tripped out of the closet, grabbing the wall to keep myself steady. It seemed like the crowd had gotten bigger; endless swaths of
partygoers poured across the main floor, rippling like waves. I shuffled my feet forward, headed for the stairs. My legs felt like mud, falling apart in clots in a slow march.
As I passed, I saw that the people on the railing had stripped off their clothes, laying naked with one another. Some of them had risen to their feet, pressing each other against the railing. It looked like they might tumble over it. I forced myself to continue moving, dragging my feet all
the way to the top of the stairs. The blood dripping from my missing earlobe stained the carpet. I attempted to step down to the top step, but my legs gave out, making me slip as I fell down a few stairs at a time, sliding on my back to the bottom. I sat at the bottom for a while as people passed by. Eventually, I grabbed the railing and pulled myself up, leaning on my shoulder for support.
I looked out at the crowd. Faces had become indistinguishable. Each feature had smashed together into a formless blob. I made my way back towards the front door, bumping into people as I went. I reached the entrance and placed my forehead against the door, taking long breaths. I
felt my chest get tight and my throat contract, and I thought I may have been getting sick. My limbs had grown achy, each movement adding to my discomfort. I placed my fist against the door and pushed myself back, turning to look at the dining room. It was empty, so I made my
way towards it. I walked through the dining room, my feet burning against the carpet. As I did, I bumped my knee into the table. It immediately went numb. I pushed on into the kitchen.
On the counter next to the punchbowl was a couple. The man was laying on the counter as the woman mounted him, moving her hips. Both were sweating profusely as their collective stench filled the room.
Next to them has a larger man who looked to be older, about forty or so. He was watching the couple with sunken eyes, sipping on punch. His hairline had receded back to the top of his head. He glanced over at me. “Do you know what they’re doing?”
“I think so.”
“What are you doing?”
I didn’t respond.
He set his cup down and took a step towards me. “Have you been here before?”
“No, I haven’t. This is my first time.”
“Well I’ve been here. I’ve been here loads of times before. And I’ve never seen you here.”
He stepped forward until he was right in front of me. My eyes reached up to about his neck. He stared down at me.
“I’ve never seen you. Not once. And that’s not normal. I’ve seen everyone here. And I’ve never seen you here.”
I looked back at the couple. They had both taken their shirts off.
“But that’s okay, man. That’s okay. Because I know everyone here.”
He patted me on both shoulders, his large hands hitting me like tree trunks. He stepped back and smiled at me before returning to his corner, sipping on his punch. I turned around and looked out at the main room. The ocean of people had grown larger. I set my hands against the counter and looked down. Sitting on the counter right between my hands was a large knife. The blade was made of swirls of black and silver, a beautiful cacophony of dazzling paisleys, each stroke of color dancing in perfect harmony. The handle looked like it was made of mahogany. It looked just like Andrew’s.
I picked it up and felt its weight. It was heavy in my hand, putting strain on my forearm. I liked the way it looked contrasted against my skin. Just then, the music stopped. A loud screech rang out. In the crowd, I saw a figure step up onto a windowsill holding a microphone. The glint of the silver head flashed a light into my eyes, making me squint. The figure began to speak.
“Thank you everyone for coming to my party!” The voice was deep and nasally, with an accent that sounded southern, though only subtly. The
crowd applauded, the sound of clapping filling the house. I felt a horrible feeling in my gut. “It has been an absolute honor to host all y’all here tonight. I hope y’all’ve gotten fucked up!”
Cheers screeched out. I put my hands over my ears, still gripping the knife. I turned to look at the couple. They had turned their attention to the guy talking.
“I just wanted to say thank you to everyone for making an appearance. I will now list those who were integral to making this happen...” He began listing names, each one making my head throb. As he went, the names got louder and louder, making my knees feel weaker each time. It was hard for me to think. I couldn’t latch on to any ideas. Each time I thought I was thinking about something, I would realize I wasn’t. My
ears rang more and more.
I stumbled out of the kitchen back into the dining room, hoping I could set my mind straight. A deep panic was setting in, and I knew it was going to be bad. The guy’s voice continued blaring in my ears. I went out of the other side of the dining room into the entryway. The crowd had
expanded all the way out to the door. I waded my way through them, hoping to reach the stairs. I made it to the base, but they had made its way up there, too. They knew how bad I was doing, and they went up there anyways. Somebody shoved by me, and I fell on my back with a thud. My head was spinning fast.
I thought I was likely going to die here. Why not, right? Wasn’t this how it went? Everything was so loud and so bright. I figured that this was all it would be for eternity. And it was all because of that guy with the microphone. That guy who just wouldn’t shut the fuck up.
The ringing had become unbearable. I closed my eyes tight and put my hands over my ears. I could feel tears gushing down my face. The voice boomed. This was it. Suddenly, I felt a cool breeze flow through my hair and a soft brush against my arm, gliding across my cut. It made the noise in my head dissipate. I cracked my eyes open and slowly lowered my hands to my side. Through my eyelids, I saw tall brown stalks flowing in a rhythm in front of me. Their stems rose just above my head.
I felt the noise grow quieter. The pressure in my ears dissipated. I could feel my limbs, the cut in my arm regaining feeling as well. I sat up, looking back at the crowd. I could distinguish faces again. In the center, there was the guy. He was jumping up and down with the crowd like a
jackass. I got up to my feet and made my way to the center, running my hands through the plants. I pushed my way through dancing crowds, until I was face to face with the guy. He didn’t notice me. He was still holding the microphone.
The light reflecting off the silver hit my eyes again, making me blink.
I gripped the knife tighter in my hand and raised it above my head, swinging it down with force and plunging it directly into his rib cage. Blood burst out from the wound, splattering against the brown stalks like fireworks. My face got soaked. I could feel the stickiness running down my nose.
The guy fell to the ground as gasps rang out in the crowd. The people around me cleared as they shuffled their feet back, trying to stop their shoes from getting stained. My eyes met with the guy’s. I could see the light leave him, his pupils glazing over and growing dull. I released the
handle of the knife, letting him fall against the floor with a thump. Someone in the crowd let out a scream.
I looked down at my hands and was surprised to see them covered in red. I blinked a couple of times. My bicep burned in pain. I felt my ear sting. The crowd panicked and fled through the door. The cattails had gone away.
I got up and left.
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