Slash Artery.
His older brother wore his name with pride and had it marked on him with a tattoo. Slash was the only one out of the three of them that never hid his eyes. He celebrated the father who had raped his mother with pride. When Slash turned eighteen, he willingly called himself Soulless and had marched right up to the prison and knocked on the door, asking to join the Execution Battle.
“You should come in here,” Slash said with a serpentine smile. He wore a matching red shirt and pant suit like all prisoners in Haver. “Come in here little brother, it’s nice in here.”
“I’m not Soulless.” Dig cringed.
Slash leaned forward, smiling with all his teeth. “It’s only a matter of time little brother, you’ll be Soulless, just like me, just like our daddy. Let’s make history Dig, let’s butcher the whole God damn three prisons in the Battle. Daddy tried to do it, we could do it, together.”
“He wasn’t a father, just a psycho rapist sperm donor.” Dig gritted his teeth. “A piece of shit.’”
Slash laughed, rocking in his chair. “Daddy was aGod. Come on Dig don’t be like Glorious. Our sister has got a stick up her ass. You and me, we’re brothers, that means something. Come in here, embrace it, let’s rule the Battle.”
“I’m not Soulless.”
“You’re Soulless.”
“You’renot even Soulless. You have a Soulmate, Slash.”
Slash got up, burning with ire. “I’m Soulless!” He pounded on the glass and became a creature. “Don’t you tell me I'm not Soulless! I’m Soulless! That bitch is not my Soulmate! If I see her again, I’ll kill her!”
Dig gave up on family and worked on himself.
Finding a job was difficult.
The man behind the counter looked over the resume, pursing his lips. When he looked up at Dig Graves, he frowned.
“You look… familiar,” the man said.
Dig Graves diverted his eyes.
“Oh damn.” The man leered back. “You look like that—”
“Yes.”
He wore the face of the infamous Soulless who had been known for raping and murdering and causing torment. The Soulless serial killer who had been speared in the gut on live TV. While the world had been cheering his demise, Dig Graves had been stretching his arm out to the TV in longing, not sure who the man was…only that he had wanted to know him.
“He left some women alive,” Dig explained dully. “With babies in their bellies before he went into prison.”
The man behind the counter sucked in a sharp breath, feeling for his phone. “You’re Soulless.”
“I’m not Soulless.”
“All his other kids are Soulless. I’ve seen them on TV, as crazy and wicked as he was.”
Dig swallowed hard. “I’m not like them. I’m not Soulless.”
“Is your heart searching for its Soulmate?”
Dig Graves placed his palm over his chest, feeling over the lacklustre beats. “I’m still young. Maybe it’s just not my time yet, or maybe my Soulmate hasn’t turned eighteen yet or maybe—”
“Or maybe you’re Soulless. Get out before I call the cops.”
People swam around Dig Graves like fish did to sharks.
Day after day, month after month, year after year, that silence in his chest continued. It did not take him long to succumb to the realisation that he was Soulless.
And then, one day, as he sprung into a fight at a bar, his heart started tothump.
