Part I   

As he planted his cocoa-colored loafers onto concrete, the layer of dust clinging to them rode away with a sudden gust of wind. His eyes shifted to feel the emptiness of a once lively city. All around, darkness and loneliness engulfed him, with only a glimpse of luster a stumble away. Where am I? Where is everyone? Why does my head hurt? Why is it so dark? He thought to himself. But alas, his head was throbbing and he had no answers, so he lumbered over to the only lit up store: a decrepit drunk man’s paradise camouflaged as a vivacious nightclub. As he jerked open the rattling door, a sharp pain stabbed him in the head. The bar was crowded. Some waltzed to live music, though they were stumbling around more than actually dancing. The room was lit by dim golden lights. Chilling artwork covered the walls as if they were purposely placed to hide the peeling wallpaper. As he walked inside, all eyes turned on him, watching his every step. Soon enough, the strums of an electric guitar and the beating of sticks on drums continued as if they had never stopped. He plopped down on the only seat left, in an amber colored plush bar stool. Next to him was a stunning, yet complex young woman whose eyes were the only ones still locked on him. 

“Could I get a bourbon old-fashioned?” he asked the bartender, trying not to make eye contact with the lady. Another pulse of internal pain stabbed his temples and he massaged his forehead with the palm of his hand. 

As the red-haired bartender handed him his drink, the woman sitting next to him exclaimed, “Bourbon, huh?” Her lips creased into a subtle smirk, “I know nothing but that you must be exhausted. What’s your name?”

“I-I think Steve. No, Stevie. I don’t even know how I remember that. I can’t recall anything else about myself…” He stared blankly at one of the paintings on the wall. It had a simple velvet black flame on it, yet something about it seemed creepily familiar to him. Right then, another burst of pain struck him, and the image of a devilish place flashed in his mind. “Ahhh, why does that keep happening?!” he shouted as he lifted his hand to wipe away the fresh sweat on his forehead. As anxiety seeped into every vein in his body, Stevie questioned, “Wh-where are we?”

“Hon, we’re at ‘Alleyway Lounge’. Didn’t you see the lit up sign when you walked in?”

“Yes, but where are we?” Stevie replied, as sweat began dripping from his temples yet again, this time, onto his white button down shirt, leaving indelible stains.

“Why, this is the Big Apple, of course! Where else would we be?” The woman gave out a forced chuckle and without hesitation, as if it was part of her daily routine, she lifted her palm and began to slide it onto Stevie’s upper thigh. Biting her lip as she seductively gazed into his deep chocolate colored eyes, she squeezed. Uncomfortably shifting his position, Stevie could feel the hairs on the back of his neck spike up like thorns ready to throw themselves at the predator. That was a little weird, he thought to himself. As a distraction, he focused on the red-haired man behind the counter, and could not help but stare at the vibrating black flame inked into his shoulder as he vigorously shook up cocktails. 

“Stevie, you don’t look so hot. Maybe you should give your handsome face a splash of water,” the lady suggested as her brows forcefully furrowed. 

“I-uhh, yes. Ok, I’ll be right back.” After Stevie’s figure vanished into the men’s bathroom, the woman covertly reached her hand into the garnet Chanel handbag clamped between her thighs. Her orange stained nails with black flames etched in grasped a small vial of liquid with the word “Ketamine” on it. Swiftly, she poured a few drops of the clear liquid into the glass next to hers — into Stevie’s bourbon…

Though sounds of chatter echoed throughout the room, the bathroom door creaking as it opened could be heard if one listened close enough. Stevie’s legs dragged behind him as he slumped back to his only comfort: alcohol.

“Do ya feel a little better now, hon?” the woman questioned as she provocatively lifted her arm and wrapped herself around Stevie’s broad shoulders. Once again, the hairs shot out on the back of his neck, and he put his hand on hers, only to nudge her clinging arm away.

“As good as a man’s first day in Hell,” Stevie replied sarcastically as he rolled his eyes and took a sip of bourbon. Awkwardly, the woman did not respond, and Stevie cringed at his reply. He began piecing together a better response- one that came across as more sophisticated. At first it seemed subtle, just a part of the continuous feeling of someone invisibly hammering at his head. But before he could take another sip of his drink, his eyelids, as if triggered by an invisible force, began fluttering up and down. It seemed everlasting, like an eternal indecisiveness about whether to stay awake or to fall into a deep slumber. The woman beside him began spinning, and then the whole room followed, creating an abstract painting of swirling colors. It was like an uncontrollable sit-in-place game of ring-around-the-rosy, only when Stevie went to stand up, it felt as though his legs had been painlessly amputated. First, he felt tingling, but that quickly subsided-or it did the opposite. The sensation spread rapidly, as though it was branching out and clinging onto every muscle. Soon enough, it had taken over Stevie’s insides, and he had no control over his limp body. Dropping onto the crusty maroon carpet with his arms sprawled across the rug, he silently shouted for help. His head thumped like an almost lifeless slinky until eventually, he laid still and unconscious.

Part II

When he first opened his eyes, it just seemed like a bad nightmare, all in his head, as if he was peacefully sound asleep. Screams echoed into his ears from all directions. In front of him, he watched the silhouettes of people being tortured glow from eternal fires blazing in the background. As he was about to lift his arm to rub his eyes and snap back into reality, he felt cold metal tightening its grip on his wrist. It was only then that he brought his gaze down to his body, and realized that he was locked into a chair crafted of metal. Opening his mouth to let out a cry for help, a scream could not be formed. His vocal cords felt fastened with a timeless lock. He could hear his heart ferociously beating, and he thought to himself: How did I get here? What could I possibly have done to arrive at such a terrible place? Why won’t a scream come out? What did they do to me? It must be a mistake. It must be! The sound of footsteps approaching gradually grew louder. Stevie shifted his view and saw a woman with a pale, ruddy complexion. She strode towards him in red Louis Vuitton pumps, wearing a crimson pant suit cinched at the waist with a belt buckled by a black flame clamp. 

“Ember, turn his chair. Act I is over. It’s time to amp things up a bit,” the lady said as her ruby lips curled into a vicious grin. Stevie began wailing, though the noise was trapped within his lungs. What is going to happen to me?! he thought, and why can’t I talk? All that could be seen was sweat sticking onto his neck and tears dripping down his cheeks. 

Ember appeared from behind a black curtain before Stevie could blink an eye. She had straight, char infused hair, tightly pinned into a bun, and though her face was without a wrinkle, there seemed to be something subtly malicious about the twinkle in her eyes. As Ember twisted the metal prison enveloping him, something cold tickled his elbow. Looking down, he saw an orange beaded bracelet with a black flame charm dangling from it. 

“Ahh, Stevie, Stevie, Stevie. It’s so nice to see you again! Do you know what my name is? You probably don’t remember, so I’ll just tell ya. I’m Carma!” the woman wickedly exclaimed, “How was that little adventure at the Alleyway Lounge? It was very entertaining for all of us to watch!” Abruptly, she pulled down on a scarlet rope and the black curtain shot up. Carma watched Stevie’s brows furrow and his heart thump as her mouth crooked into a nasty smirk. Lights blinded him as his eyes creased, forming nets of wrinkles in the corners. He was trying to make out what secrets the veil had been hiding. As his spotty vision adjusted, he was able to make out a large crowd of women seated on amber colored plush stools as if they were about to watch a performance. As he scanned the rows of ladies, he thought to himself, who are these people? Why are they all watching this happen?! Why aren’t they helping me? It felt as if the bystanders were taunting him, just sitting there in silence, watching him. As he scanned the fourth row, his gaze stopped suddenly, and as if time had paused, his eyes locked on a woman with strawberry blonde hair holding an icy blue clutch covered with snow colored polka dots. He blinked, and for a moment, just a moment, something flashed in his mind. He sat at a luxurious bar next to this same girl, and she had dropped a clutch identical to the one she was clasping. As she flirtatiously kneeled down to pick it up, Stevie saw himself swiftly grabbing a clear vial from his coat pocket and dropping liquid into her cocktail.  He scanned the crowd again, finally registering that these were his past victims. This seemingly torturous event was revenge for his unrecognized crimes. But alas, the memory left as quickly as it had flashed before him.

“I know this must be a lot for you to take in, but I gotta tell ya something, little Stevie,” Carma whispered in his ear as every little hair on his body shot up.

“Oh, this is my favorite part, Ember!” she cackled, placing an icy hand on Stevie’s head to dishevel his gelled back brunette locks. Oh no, how can it get worse then this?! Stevie yelled silently in his head as tears rushed down his cheeks. Carma walked over to a desk engulfed in chords and machines. It seemed as though everything was knotted together except for one set of wires with suction cups on the ends. 

“Now Stevie, this might hurt a little, but I promise things will get less dull!” she mischievously exclaimed as she walked over, clutching the set of wires. Carefully, she placed the suction cups onto Stevie’s temples and pushed. The machine that the wires were plugged into beeped, and a screen lit up. 

“Ember, it’s time. Flip the switch.” Stevie abruptly jolted back in the metal chair as he convulsed. Electricity pierced through his flesh as he battled the binds of his restraints. He screamed internally as his throat tightened and his eyes rolled back into their sockets. His bones felt like brittle twigs being snapped in two. Horrendous pain rattled his skull as the irresistible voltage fried every cell in his hopeless body. 

His eyes opened to feel the emptiness of a once lively city. His temples throbbing, he lumbered over to the only store with its lights still on. Where am I?! How did I get here?! He thought, but the only thing he could remember was his name. Stevie. The flashing sign read Alleyway Lounge. As he jerked open the door, a sharp pain stabbed him in the head. The bar was crowded. Some danced to live music, while others gradually watched themselves slip out of reality with the aid of alcohol. As he walked inside, all eyes turned on him. Though, it was only for a second, and everyone quickly went back to what they were doing. He sat down on the only seat left, next to a gorgeous, yet complex young woman whose eyes were the only ones still locked on him. Although an uncomfortable internal voice whispered not to, he was too tempted, and he looked into them, just for a second. Right then, an image of a black flame flashed in his mind, sending a sharp pain to his nerves. Panicking, he did the only thing thinkable that would calm him down.

“Could I get a bourbon old-fashioned?” he asked the red-haired bartender while massaging his forehead with the palm of his hand. 

“Bourbon, huh?”