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Death isn’t scary. To die means to stop existing. The absence of life means the absence of feeling, and to be snuffed out is almost a gift.
We’re trapped in a town that owns us, but it’s trapped by us just as harshly.
On initiation nights, if you’re caught outside of your home, you’re fair game.
When he looks up from my driver’s licence, the glimmer of his eyes peeks through the mask. Pale and vibrant, they pulse. Something lives within them, and if it ever rattles its chains enough to break free from the confines of his eyes, I’ll find myself in a fate worse than death—the one Moros hands out more freely than a finite ending.
“If you succumb to the Sauder curse, I will end it by eradicating your family.” My eyes drop to the floor, and dread consumes me. I can’t promise him that. I can’t guarantee that I won’t end my life. Because that is the Sauder curse.
With that, the bargain is etched into my future. My life belongs to the Vile Boy in the purple mask.
“Oh my god,” he whispers, shocked. “It’s Krypt, actually,” I give him my name and grab his hands, tying them behind his back. “And I’ll be your devil. Not your god.”
“If you know who I am, you also know that I’ve killed those I love before. My love is dangerous. My attention is worse.”
“What do you want with me?” he asks quietly. Everything. To learn him. To figure out how he responds to fear and pain. To cut him off from everything and everyone in his life until he is solely mine and relies only on me. To warp his mind and force him to understand my sickness so I can understand myself—so I don’t feel so alone in my sickness. To use him until he begs for me, and then to dangle him in front of death’s door without ever letting him cross through. To teach him to take his own power and use it to his advantage.
“You break so beautifully, hero,” he says, voice not as jittery as usual. “Does it hurt to shatter?”
Because when I die, I want to leave this world with the feel of him all over me. In my mouth and on my tastebuds, over every inch of my skin, and in my goddamn soul. I want him to infect me before he snuffs me out forever, and if these are my final six minutes, I’m going to have him for every one of them.
“You made a deal with a devil, hero, and now you live in my hell.”
“You’ve done it now, Remiel.” “Done what?” I’m breathless and boneless. “Woken me up.” I should be more scared of that than I am.
“Why can’t I be both?” he asks, ripping open my pants. “Why can’t I hate you and want you? Why can’t I be disgusted by the things you’ve done and need you anyway? What are the rules here, Krypt?” He pulls me free from my pants.
Seven. Orange. I’m fixing his guitar. Monster. Yellow and agitated. Riot, the one in white from the other night. Menace, the one in blue. The one who took Cain… Facts. Burnt copper. Twitching. Ransom. The stoic one in red. Kyd, the energetic one in pink. Glitch, who is literally glitching with the need to chase something, his neon green mask tilting from side to side. My brother. Ghost. The teal face of his mask warped into a disgusting smile.
Because Remiel Sauder has become everything to me. My property. My obsession. My fixation. My dream. I’ve never dreamed before.
Because I got attached. I don’t know what love is, but I know what obsession is, and Remiel is the focus of my life. I’ve never had an obsession quite like him, and the loss of it feels too much. It’s impossible. It’s wrong. There’s no longer a Krypt if there isn’t a hero.
“And I want your sickness to meet mine, and whenever we get too tainted and Moros can’t handle us anymore, I want to die sick with you.”
