I am a gold medal hopeful, battle worn, battle angel. I am a calm nervous system. I am the man you thought you loved back when. I am a knight with no queen, I am a queen with no knight. I have seen you abandon me in a heartbeat without looking back and I would still do anything for you. 

In what would be known as the knife mandate, the city sends everyone a single knife in the mail in a blue envelope. 

Even small children receive a knife in the mail with no limits to each household. This is how bad it is in the streets today, this is what it means to walk in the world today. I am the oldest of eleven siblings and they are all dead now. I contain multitudes and they all want to love and fuck and knife fight all night. I open the blue envelope with a sharp letter opener and a fresh knife falls out of the open sleeve with nothing else. 

All my windows are open, all my candles are burning, and all my batteries are dead. I am the rabbit that hunts tigers, I whisper, I am the tiger made of dead rabbits. I get a chill on my skin and in all the chambers of my heart that feels like someone is trying to reach me. 

Legend has it, the moment you are born, a creature is released from the woods and is born too and it will eventually find you, and kill you. There is no stopping this process, it will simply happen one day. I feel as though my creature is close and closing in on me. 

I leave my apartment at midnight on a full moon and meet Sarah at a bar to talk about my breakup and the knife fight party this weekend. Everyone is invited, not everyone goes. Someone dies each time. I touch night flowers on my route. Fingers rub on soft petals, tiny brief rituals. 

Sarah says, I want to be a seven-foot android. I want people to chill the fuck out. I want to be set loose in the woods, hunted down, and put to the test. She says, I am a big picture thinker. I think about the big picture.

I look at Sarah and see my best friend. I love when she goes off. When she goes off, I go off. My ilk, my family, my shadow boxer. 

We talk and think nearly the same way but she’s a better fighter than me.

You’re my best friend, says my voice.

You’re my best friend, too, she says. Do you want another? She taps the table and sips tequila.

What advice can you give me? I ask her, blinkless.

She takes another shot and shakes her head at me. You can’t win someone back by being a bitch.

◆

In the fight world, I am known for breaking eye sockets. I know I am always going to be a contender. They are going to have to contend with me. The night life is my life, I have only felt truly alive at night. Everyone in town is known for something, for good and bad reputations, and I am known for breaking eye sockets. Often with one punch. Often with little or no expression on my face. Some people say sock it to me in recognition while passing me on the streets, my famous catch phrase. Sometimes I laugh in community, sometimes I break their eye sockets, too. Perhaps, I am a psychopath or perhaps, I am the world’s greatest fool. Everything depends on mood and timing, the moon and the tides, how the right and wrong planets align. Feel the vibe. Come alive. Read the room. I want people to remember the night they party with me. I am the president of the party planning committee, the only real party planning committee in the city. 

Sarah says, Good things are coming. I can feel it, I can see it. Sarah touches her chest, her heart. She can see things I can’t see.

I am not trying to win her back, says my voice.

What?

I am not trying to win her back.

How long has it been again, Sarah asks?

Four months, I say. 

I drink tequila. I say, I am feeling pretty fucked up and down bad today.

Sarah reaches underneath the left strap of my vintage black tank top and touches my shoulder blade. Her fingers go clockwise then counterclockwise. 

She says, I’m sorry, love. Are you freaking out? Are you okay? Are you going to die?

No, I say, smiling. I’m not going to die.

What’s that?

I am not going to die.

Get the fuck over it, please! I wanna have some fun with you again, and you’re all distracted and shit.

I know, I know, I say.

I mean, I love you, take your time, Sarah says. I’m always down for whatever wonderful, dangerous shit you do.

I love you, too, Sarah.

The night rain is lit under the streetlamp, the downpour falls straight down from the glow to the pavement. Even with three layers on, your best and favorite warm jackets, you can always feel the bitter cold wind in this city. Every few city blocks, someone gets stabbed to death. Every death is ruthless, you could never convince me otherwise. The morning is violence, the evening is violence. No one bats an eye anymore, no one skips a beat, the day simply goes on. Circadian rhythms. The foot traffic is blind and nonchalant. 

I am a planet unto myself, a shadow Earth, a cultivated, self-sustaining gravity. I am nonplussed and unbothered. I have loved every cloud I have ever seen. I feel every moment, almost every second I am cruel to someone. For better or worse, I remember every face I encounter. I am still trying to redeem the hurt other people have caused me, I am still trying to atone for every heart I have broken, for every eye socket I have collapsed from deep inside the skull. If every human being is a dream, if every person is capable of good, love, and kindness, I am deeply afraid I am a nightmare, and I am chasing something. Something is chasing me.

So what’s next? Sarah asks. What are we doing?

Let’s plan this fucking party. Let’s get this.

Party, party, boo. She raises her arms to the air in celebration. 

Sarah then touches my shoulder and lowers her voice. There is a lean only best friends know. 

She asks, Can I have a bump? Do you have a bag on you?

◆

Entering the basement rave, the floor is concrete. Everything is pitch black but you can vibe from room to room, let your eyes adjust, cut through the smoke, and glance upon blank faces lit by green and purple neon repeating. People are kissing, holding faces and sitting close next to each other on torn couches lined against the back brick walls, thighs over thighs, necks and collarbones. Netting, chokers, and stick and poke tattoos. I love the sweet, slow eye contact you make with a stranger, a burning second, a second life. I do not belong anywhere but I belong here. My heart is a little island in the middle of an angry ocean, waves of calm and surrender and heartbreak move through my body. The dark hallways go on for an eternity and then you feel and see the dance floor. A vibration changes my whole life, the beat drops and startles me alive, and I can see beautiful people. Heads bob, hips sway, eyes roll to the back of the head. I know this DJ. 

I know famous fighters, I know famous DJs. I fucking hate a DJ, Sarah says. She is whispering into my ear.

I know what you mean, I was just thinking that. I hate DJs, too. But I like this guy.

What’s his name?

DJ Never Again.

I don’t like that, Sarah says. It’s too cute.

I give Sarah my bag and she leaves for seven minutes.

I have learned at the end of the world, there is still love and despair, hope and rejection. There is always a greater threat, there is always another surprise, there is always one last mistake you’re bound to make in your life. The tequila burns the cut on my upper lip. The cocaine drips in the back of my throat. The dance floor is hypnotic and the DJ is very hot tonight. The darkness moves. Strong bodies sway, bump, and blend in the dark. Neon lights blind my face although I never blink, I never waver, I keep staring out to the dance floor like it’s the fucking sunrise. 

Sarah comes up behind me and holds my hand at the edge of the dance floor. Drugs and bad circulation make her hands cold. I hold her hands until they’re warm and we look out to the dance floor silently together. My hands are always warm, her hands are always cold. 

You’re feeling strong today? Sarah asks. She rubs the small of my back.

I am the strongest person you’re going to meet tonight.

Although I have been accused of being hard, although I look quite standoffish and cold and unapproachable, I love to dance. I love dancing. My body speaks a completely different language when I fall in love with the beat. I push it like a Doomsday button. I promise you, you will see a whole new world, you will see a whole new side of me when I am lost on the dance floor. Maybe I am holding back in most things in life but I do not hold back on the dance floor. I let it go however it needs to. Sarah dances next to me, I dance next to Sarah. We move and vibe closer to the heart of the dance floor toward the front, closer to the DJ and the speakers, into the crowd of bodies in the dark.

There is a moment where it feels like everyone is moving at once. There is a moment where all the lines on the map converge. All the strangers around me are the perfect strangers, all the lights and sounds align and belong to me. By all appearances, this is the right place and the right time. The universe opens her eye, hand and glove. Armed and gelatinous. 

Someone comes up behind DJ Never Again and rubs his shoulders. Her body is lit by bright purple neon but her face is hidden in the darkness while the crowd dances. She turns the DJ around to face her, takes off his headphones gently, and then stabs him quickly three quick times in the chest. His chest cavity makes a thud sound that no one else can hear. The music doesn’t stop bumping, the people keep vibing and dancing and falling deeply in love. She twists the knife clockwise on the third stab and looks the DJ in the eye and holds his face with her other hand before pulling out the bloody blade, which too reflects in the bright purple neon. DJ Never Again takes a deep, ragged breath, looks up to the ceiling, and collapses to the floor. She spins the knife in her hand and says, Karma, bitch.

Sarah and I can see everything from where we are and the other bodies in the crowd are finally starting to notice, too. When there is violence, there is a vibe shift. This brutal, sad city is all about the vibe shift. Bright eyes widen and faces wake up from their slow trance and sweet stupor and then I can see a little panic, a little rush, a little feeling of danger and escape invigorating the whole crowd. I can see everyone taking a step or two away from each other, survival stances, body control. One blade, two blades, one hundred open blades. Everyone at the rave takes out their pocket knives, swords and ice picks, and everyone starts sparring with one another, punching, and knife fighting. One on one, five on one, two on two, free for all.

Sarah asks, Is that? Is that who I think it is?

Yes, says my voice. That’s Teresa.

Sarah and I hold hands at the heart of the dance floor while my former lover puts on the dead DJ’s headphones, and while covered in blood she looks at me dead in the eyes from a few dozen yards away. She has her hair down, she has her favorite black leather choker on, and she has a new alien flower tattoo fresh on her neck. I know this hard, stern look on her face all too well. 

I say, Damn, she looks good.

◆

I have to admit that part of my attraction to Teresa was that she gave me serious attention. Fun and flirty, focused attention. Coming from the periphery with dark skyscrapers in the background, she came to my center and line of vision. She wasn’t scared of me, she didn’t pretend like she knew me, she took my hand in her hand, interlocked her fingers with my fingers and asked me really good questions, looking at me blinkless. When it happens, I realize it is so easy to win me over. I remember telling her, I fuck with you immediately. Life is short, connection is rare, and it is dangerous to make a man like me feel special. 

I lean against a cold brick wall and smoke a cigarette outside the party away from everyone else. My heart is stable, my heart is contained, my head is up in the night clouds. Cash rules everything around me. I am deathly quiet in a way that makes me feel like I am capable of anything, like I might surprise myself tonight. I go to the rave alone because I always go to raves alone. I like being alone although I know it’s killing me softly from inside out, I know my creature is still hunting and chasing me. I take my little sword with me everywhere I go if push comes to shove, if I can see the heat coming for me from around the corner.

Teresa sees me smoking by myself and comes up to me all casual like she has known me for years. Perhaps she has, perhaps I have always known her. There is a lean only best friends know. She is covered in blood and I can tell from her body language that she really wants a cigarette. The great saboteur, Teresa always leaves the party a little bloody, a little disheveled, a little more celebrated, I will soon discover.

Death, taxes, and Teresa. Gravity and spin. She moves Machiavellian, she plays chess, not checkers, she loves dancing on her own, she has so many unsettling things to say to people. She seems to belong to every room everywhere she goes. She takes me home. She has seven dollars in her wallet and a negative balance in her bank account. She has a Louis Vuitton green and black duffel bag under her bed in her apartment filled with $100,000 cash, and she hands me $5,000 in a wad of bills on her bedroom floor. She lights a candle for me.

She says, I like you.

What is this for?

I already told you. I like you, she says.

Thank you, I don’t know what to say. 

I look at the wad of cash. I say, I’m eternally grateful.

Eternal? She asks.

Yeah.

Cool.

I look at the cold hard cash again and I can see there is a little blood on it. I throw the whole wad at her bedroom ceiling fan and one hundred-dollar bills rain down on us like ugly confetti. She touches my face and kisses me. The worst part about myself is I would give up the world and go to war to feel seen like that by her all the time. I confuse childhood poverty and trauma bonding with fate, I confuse sexual chemistry and deep eye contact with destiny. 

I fall in love, I overbear, I obsess, I break her trust, I fall in love harder. The whole calendar is hell, the worst year of my life, the year of crushed birds and dead rabbits. We fuck other people, we lie to each other, we hold grudges and secrets. We write long text messages, we lose sleep, we don’t eat, we drink and close down the bar, all the bars, we say vicious things to each other over and over again in cycles, we fall out and kill hope. We hurt people hurt people.

Pressing her favorite knife to my neck, Teresa tells me, I wish I never fucking met you.

◆

My soul leaves my body for a moment, Teresa and I lock eyes yet again with the rave knife fight very much in motion between us, and there is no coming back now. A portal opens inside me. It looks like the past. My life is in irrevocable shards. I can see Teresa moving through the crowd, punching people in the face. I can see people falling to the ground at her feet, holding their faces and eye sockets, screaming in agony with the music still bumping, with lovers still dancing and swaying drugged up all around us. I can read lips like a fiend. Teresa is mouthing to me, I did your move, bitch.

I let go of Sarah’s hand and I say to her, Whatever happens, don’t come help, okay?

What did you say?

I lean into her ear and whisper. Don’t come help me, okay?

Okay, she says. She squeezes my hand to the bones and her hands are warm now. Sarah is a better fighter than me and I never worry about her.

Deep breaths, she says.

The lights in the basement flicker, someone opens the heavy door to the cold air outside, and the music from the monster speaker dies, but the people are still dancing and knife fighting. Pupils are dilated, bare midriffs and stomachs are cut and sliced, naked fingers and toes are getting cold. There are bodies scattered on the ground, some are being trampled, some still alive are asking for help, but that is against the rules and the desperate effort is moot anyhow. There are no hospitals in the city, there are no ambulances coming, all the sirens you hear screaming along the streets at night belong to cop cars and street patrol. You can only help yourself, the city’s motto. Carry a knife.

The fight spills and pours out into the night courtyard, a few dozen yards of gravel and concrete lit by moonlight, enclosed by rusty chain linked fences. The beautiful rave outfits are covered in blood and alcohol. They glow in the dark. Rips and tears, deep cuts and wounds as far as the eye can see.

I think I’ve lost Sarah in the brutal crowd but then I see her not too far away from me, kicking one man in the stomach and slitting another man’s throat. I never worry about Sarah. Sarah can take care of herself. More and more people fall dead to the gravel rocks. The crowd overtakes my view and I lose Sarah, but I can hear her winning.

One of the things I still love and admire about Teresa is her confidence. She teaches me how to hold space, she teaches me how to walk and belong to a room. You have to walk into spaces as though there is an army you command following right behind you. You have to move as though you have true believers all around you.

Teresa stabs another man three times in the chest, her signature move, and she watches him fall breathless to the ground. I can feel her movements in my heart space. There is no more music playing, no one is dancing, and the sun is starting to rise. The morning air touches my neck hairs. Birds appear in the trees. I realize I have never really understood anything, everything I know is wrong.

I walk slowly to the center of everything, to the middle of the courtyard. I wield my favorite sword and I leave it idle in the palm of my hand like a best friend. Teresa walks slowly to meet me in the middle of the courtyard, kicking rocks, and she is facing me. Knives and blades clash and clang around us, bodies fall, and there is birdsong in the air.

Teresa runs towards me and I drop my sword to the ground. I can hear the blade hit the gravel and I let Teresa stab the shit out of me. She embraces me as though she is going to kiss me, she leans into my ear, her face touches my face, and she stabs me a hundred times in the chest and stomach. I rest my chin on her shoulder to stay standing and feel my body go cold. I imagine red ice cream melting, I daydream and remember making love to Teresa.

Teresa whispers into my ear, I need you to be stronger. I have always needed you to be stronger. I need you to be stronger. She screams into my ear.

Teresa stabs me a hundred more times in the chest and I fall to my knees.

Legend has it, the moment you are born, a creature is released from the woods and is born too and it will eventually find you, and kill you. You can hear feathers in the air and you can feel something gigantic hitting the ground. The earth seems to shake, everyone else at the rave is screaming or running away. A creature lands in the courtyard, a giant crow the size of a horse. The crow is so large she covers the sun and gives shadow to the courtyard. I fall lightheaded to the rocks and I can see the crow looking at me. I am bleeding to death and losing my hearing and vision, my fingers feel like cookie dough.

From the ground, I can hear Teresa, although her voice is muffled. She stands between me and the giant crow and she holds a knife in each hand. All the other birds are still singing, the morning air is the coldest of my life.

She screams, Get the fuck away from him! He’s going to live through this. 

Teresa spins a knife in each hand. The crow tilts her head and opens her beak. Teresa screams, Get the fuck away from him!