Chapter 1
Even now it’s hard to say exactly when it happened. I suppose drinking enough alcohol will do that to you, though. It was around a week ago when I finally decided to break out of my shell. I’ve been studying at this university for about three months and doing only what was required in order to pass my classes. I didn’t talk to anyone outside of class besides the occasional “hi,” or “hey,” that I would say to my roommate. It was safe to say that I was something of an outcast, but that would change on the first night of the fourth month; my birthday.
The day passed as it ever did. I went to class as usual, ate lunch, went to my final classes of the day and then went back to my dorm with a honeybun in my hand that I would serve to myself as a birthday cake. I dropped my backpack next to the minifridge and got into bed. I sat criss cross eating the honeybun in silence, thinking about how miserable my life was. Eventually I became so depressed that I dropped the snack to the ground and curled up in my blanket. I went to sleep only to wake up an hour later. I checked the clock and saw that it was midnight exactly.
I planned on going right back to sleep but after attempting and failing to swallow, I got up and went to get a drink. I opened the fridge and moved my roommates cans of beer out of the way to get to my water bottles. I opened it and drank the whole thing in one go. I dropped the bottle on the ground and was about to close the fridge when I saw my backpack, or more specifically what was in it. In the water bottle pocket on the side of my backpack was what appeared to be a folded up piece of green construction paper.
I grabbed it out of the pocket and checked the front to see the words “Happy Birthday.” Written in big, colorful, bubble-style letters. I brought the letter over to my desk and turned the lamp on. I turned the paper around and peeled off the tape that was holding it closed and unfolded it.
“Dear, Dustin,” The note read. “Happy birthday! You were very nice in class for letting me borrow your pen. You know how the professor hates it when students show up unprepared. The Knuckle Dusters are hosting a party at their house later tonight. We can hang out if you want. Anyway, thank you for the pen! From, Jess.”
I couldn’t believe it. It was actually happening. A girl has actually taken interest in me. Should I go? I haven’t been to a normal party in a long time, let alone a frat party. I checked the time again; 12:05. Could the party have ended already? No way, those parties last until sunrise. What if I go and I don’t have a good time? What if I go and make Jess uncomfortable? I glanced at the can of bud light in the fridge and made a judgment call. I grabbed the can, cracked it open and downed the thing in one swig before bursting through the door and running down the hall.
That was the last thing I remembered before waking up lying face down in turf. My head was pounding like something was trying to get out and my stomach ached like I had taken a cannon ball to it. I rolled onto my back and winced at the slight amount of sunlight that made it past the field goal that I was lying beneath. It was then that I realized that I had been sleeping in the football field all night. I began to push myself upwards but stopped and fell back down to the ground when I felt the pain emanating from my right hand. I looked down at it and saw that the knuckle for my middle finger was completely fucked up. I mean my finger still worked but the skin of my knuckle was almost black in complexion. The skin was cracked revealing red meat beneath. It almost looked… burnt. I felt the skin but the skin didn’t feel back. It was dead.
It felt exactly like what you’d think burnt flesh would feel like. Hard, coarse, like dry, crackled dirt. It was then that I remembered that I had been to a party the night before. I couldn’t remember anything during but I remembered the walk there. Maybe I drank a bunch of alcohol while I was there and blacked out, accidentally putting my hand on an open flame? That’s a possibility. The burn was beginning to hurt badly so I stood up using my left hand for support this time. Once I was completely upright I leaned against the goalpost for a moment to regain my bearings as well as trying not to vomit. Once I thought I was ready I turned and took a few steps towards the school before bending over and throwing up onto the field.
/// /// ///
Once I made my way inside I slowly walked down the hall towards the nurses office. Surprisingly the pain in my hand was beginning to subside but the aching in my head had increased tenfold. I decided to go to the cafeteria and get a coffee instead. I bought the coffee and made my way to my first class of the day, making sure to keep my right hand inside my pocket so that no one could see. As I walked down the hall I turned down a corner and instantly bumped into Jess. She looked annoyed at first but once she realized it was me she smiled slightly.
“Hey, Dustin.” She looked me up and down. “You look…”
“Tired.” I finished for her.
“I guess that was some party, huh? Sorry again for walking out like that. I was just annoyed.”
I tried my hardest to figure out what she could be talking about but I was drawing a blank. Instead I just nodded and said “Yep.”
“Oh!” she blurted out. “I almost forgot.” She took her backpack off and knelt on the ground, looking through it. When she found what she was looking for she stood up and held it out for me to take. “Your pen. I should have put it in with the note but I guess I didn’t think about it.”
It was just a standard Bic pen. To be honest I didn’t really care that much about it but the gesture was still very pleasant. So pleasant, in fact, that I completely forgot about keeping my right hand hidden. Out of pure reflex I took my hand out of my pocket and took the pen in it. She looked down and gasped as she noticed my torched knuckle.
“Oh my god.” She said as she grabbed my hand and inspected it closely. “What did you do?”
“I, uh… I really don’t know.”
She looked me in the eye and I noticed that her previously calm expression was replaced with one that was the opposite of calm. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna do it.”
“Do what?”
“Join the Knuckle Dusters.”
I pointed at my wound. “That’s what this means?”
She let go of my hand abruptly and turned away. Tossing a “Don’t even talk to me anymore,” over her shoulder.
I watched as she walked away, and when she went around another corner I lowered my head and stared down at my burnt knuckle. What the hell was so bad about this fraternity that Jess would refuse to talk to me?
/// /// ///
I angrily banged my fist on the door to the Knuckle Dusters’ house, recoiling in pain realizing that I should have knocked with my left hand instead.
When the door opened I was greeted by a six and a half foot tall giant. “Hey! Dusty’s back!” He yelled before extending out a fist toward me. “Gimme some knucks, dog.”
I noticed that both his middle and index knuckles were burnt as well. When I took too long to do what he wanted he grabbed my right hand and fistbumped it for me. The pain from the contact with my burn wasn’t nearly as bad as the pain from being punched directly in the fist by some idiot who didn’t know his own strength.
“Ow!” I yelled. “What the hell, man?”
“Oh, my bad, bro. Your burn probably hasn’t had enough time to heal.”
I flexed my finger muscles to make sure they still worked right. “Which brings me to the reason why I came here in the first place.”
At this point multiple other frat members showed up at the door, surprised and happy to see me.
“Ay, it’s Justin.” another member said.
“Yeah, hi.” I raised my fist to show them my burnt knuckle. “Look I just came here because I wanted to know what-” Before I could finish my sentence one of them went in for a fistbump, hitting me directly on the middle knuckle. “Fuck!” I yelled, causing everyone there to burst into laughter.
Suddenly their laughter ceased. They moved out of the way to create room for who I assumed was their leader. He was tall. Not as tall as the first guy I talked to but still very much taller than me. He stood out like a sore thumb, wearing a matching dark maroon two piece suit. He walked with authority and none of his constituents dared to look him in the eye. I noticed that all five of his knuckles were burnt to a crisp. I guess the hierarchy of this fraternity was based entirely on how many times you’re willing to mutilate your hands.
He made it to the door and stood there for a moment, staring down his nose at me. I stared back, not saying a word. This went on for at least twenty seconds before he spoke.
“So this is the newest recruit?” He said to no one in particular.
“Yes, sir.” One of the members said from behind him. “His name is Justin. He was at the party yesterday.”
“Ah, yes.” He said with a smile, noticeably reminiscing over the night before. He snapped himself out of it and cleared his throat. “I’m Harry, the president of this fraternity.”
He raised his hand for me to shake and I did just that. Only that wasn’t at all what he wanted. When I felt what didn’t feel at all like an open hand at all in my palm, I looked down to see that he had held his fist for me to bump instead. So far this was a terrible first impression.
/// /// ///
Harry’s private room was big and semicircular. One side of the room was lined with bookshelves while the other half there was a big wooden desk with a painting of an unfamiliar old man hanging on the wall behind it. The plaque below probably had the name of the man but I couldn’t bother to read it.
Harry gestured for me to take a seat opposite of him, which I did. He flopped into his big desk chair in a most ungraceful manner, slouching and letting out a loud breath as if he was a father that just returned from working a twelve hour shift. “So,” He started. “What brings you to our humble abode?”
Finally, I thought. Time for some answers.
“I was just wondering what this was all about.” I pointed at my burnt knuckle.
“Oh that? It’s a sign that you passed the test. The initiation.”
I truly had zero idea what he was talking about. How many drinks did I have last night?
“Initiation… right. What exactly did I do during initiation?”
“You don’t remember?” He gave me a worried/angry look and began to tense up, as if me not remembering would be a big problem for him. Which is why instead of outright saying that I didn’t remember, I lied.
“Oh, no I remember. I’m just wondering… if the initiation was always like that.” Luckily it worked, he began to relax again.
“No it wasn’t. Originally the initiation was just to down a glass of beer alongside the other members. I think we stopped doing that around 1912 though.”
“That’s quite a change.” I fake laughed.
He let out a chuckle. “Yeah it’s gotten a little outta hand over the past few decades.” He turned in his seat and looked up at the painting of the old man. “Ol’ Mike probably wouldn’t be too happy with this new initiation”
Suddenly I felt the heat of a floating lightbulb above my head. This will be how I figure out what I did last night. “So, did you have trouble during your initiation?” I asked
He let a wide smile stretch across his face. “Trouble is one word for it. I almost went to the cops but they caught me just in time. You actually took it pretty well though.”
“Really?”
“You didn’t even think twice before killing that girl.” He chuckled once more, but I didn’t.
I could feel my face going pale and I desperately urged myself to remain calm. He continued talking but I couldn’t hear him. All I could do was look down at my burnt knuckle knowing that I had killed someone.
I saw him snapping his fingers in my face but I wasn’t able to break out of my spell until the fifth snap. “What?”
“Are you okay, Justin? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine.” I spat out without even thinking.
He eyed me suspiciously for a moment. “Can I offer you a drink? To celebrate?”
I didn’t want to give him any more reason to not like me so I took his offer. He handed me a glass of whisky and we toasted to my newfound brotherhood. We clinked out glasses and drank. Under the circumstances I feel that drinking from a glass handed to me by the leader of a murder cult probably wasn’t the best idea, but alcohol turned out to be good because it helped me relax enough to act normal.
“So, I’m a Knuckle Duster now?” I asked.
He made a disappointed face and sighed. “We actually don’t like to be called that. That’s just some nickname that the non-members came up with to refer to us. We prefer to be called Theoi Kori.”
“Oh, sorry. So what is that? Greek?”
“Yep. In English it means Sons of Satan.”
A satanic cult. How original. I thought to myself.
“Really?”
“Well, at least we think it does. We used google translate to find out.”
I nodded my head and we sat in awkward silence. I scratched the burnt skin of my knuckle for a moment before gesturing it to him. “Does this heal eventually? Like, will it look normal again after a few weeks or something?”
“Nah it’s pretty much there for good. It’s a brand.”
“Right, right.” A few more moments of awkward silence passed before I stood up. “Welp, I better get going. I have a class, probably.” I began walking towards the door when he began to speak.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I stopped and slowly turned around to meet his gaze. “I have a… thing… to go to.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He held his right fist out towards me.
I felt a wave of relief wash across me. I walked back over and gave him a fistbump. He did that thing with the explosion after the bump which basically meant I had to do it as well even though I didn’t want to.
“Alright get outta here.” He waved me away.
I took a step back and bowed for some reason before quickly walking out of the room with my tail between my legs. I closed the door behind me and nearly jumped out of my skin when that tall, blond idiot spoke into my ear.
“He’s pretty intense huh?”
“What, him? He’s not so tough.” I lied.
“I didn’t ask if he was tough, I asked if he was intense.”
I didn’t respond.
He lifted his drink and loudly sucked soda through the straw while also holding his fist out for me to bump. After reluctantly fistbumping every member on my way out of the building, I got into my car and finally took a chance to breathe.