Karma

"Keep telling me that it gets better. Does it ever?"

“Fucking pussy.” Max’s voice slurred before he took a long drag of his cigarette as he flipped off the radio. He was just waiting for that Shawn Mendes chick to become irrelevant. After all, who wants Shawn Mendes when you could have Max Isaeva?

Max chuckled as he put his cigarette out. His Bugatti Veyron’s engine hummed while racing down the empty road. Mac picked up his Hennessy bottle and took a swig. His head was becoming light and stars that weren’t in the sky started flashing in his vision.

Max was tired and hungry while racing home. Coming back from yet another party. He was the current and forever “It” guy in Hollywood. The one who got all the babes, had all the money, and all the friends. Winning his first grammy at age 16, shot Max into stardom. Now at age 25, he has over forty awards and seventy-six nominations with over 250 million albums sold worldwide. Max’s reputation and popularity are only continuing to climb. Being called the “New King of Pop”, easily beating out that wannabe Michael Jackson.

Suddenly, Max’s limbs got so heavy that his foot dropped down on the gas pedal. His eyelids shut as his right hand on the steering wheel dropped. The car sharply veered right, flipping as it collided with the ditch. Max slammed into the steering wheel as the car started crushing him. Metal squealed, glass screamed, and bones cracked as the car continued flipping. The car came to a jarring halt when it smashed against a boulder.

Max’s world faded from the red, hot pain to a blinding, white light. He couldn’t breathe.

The light settled and Max felt numb as he slowing cracked his eyes open. He was sitting in a chair in front of a desk, across the desk sat this beautiful, genderally ambiguous person with a jawline that could cut you just by looking at it. They had long, white hair that fell straight, bright amber eyes, and they were wearing a white leather jacket.

They smiled. Revealing a set of straight, white teeth. “Hello, Mr. Max Isaeva.” Their silvery echoed through the office. “You are now officially dead. I’m your designated Celestial Officer, here to assist you. My name is Karma.” Max’s eyes widened.

Karma’s nose scrunched up as they left out a laugh. It sounded sweet and soft. “No, I’m not the literal personification of karma Mr. Isaeva.” Suddenly their face got serious as they leaned forward and whispered, “but in your case, I might as well be.” Karma leaned back and chirped with their ever-present smile, “This isn’t the afterlife Mr. Isaeva. Where you are now is one of the stepping stones to being at ‘eternal peace’, as you humans say. We’ll get to the other steps eventually, but right now. You’re at step two-”

“What was step one?” Max implored.

“Step one was dying. No more interruptions Mr. Isaeva.” Karma said flippantly as their eyes flashed icy blue before returning to amber. “You were pretty lucky to die unexpectedly so late in the night before most early birds woke up. You could’ve been like Gordon Downie who went with such a big fuss!” Karma threw their head back and let out a burst of shrill laughter. “Now he’s paying for that!”

“I don’t understand.” Max hesitantly said, trying to wrap his head around everything.

“No interruptions!” Karma snarled as their eyes flashed icy blue once more and stayed there. “But we are getting off track. Here’s the deal Mr. Isaeva. When humans die and someone is thinking about them, the dead human becomes their guardian angel of sorts. Don’t ask why. That’s just how it is. And you Mr. Isaeva, are assigned to watch 768 456 people.”

Max was outraged. This wasn’t fair. Indignation started to boil and was about to explode when Karma continued calmly.

“Now there are some rules. You can only whisper into a person’s ear and influence them. That’s it. You don’t have to ability to do ‘hostile takeovers’ or anything like that. Next, you can shield souls. But it’s rare. If your soul is in, let’s say a car crash,” Karma’s eyes twinkled, “then you can stop their most severe injuries. But if they jump off a ten-story building. Well, there’s no stopping that. You can also slow a person’s death. By holding their spirit in their body, not for very long, just long enough to give them a fighting chance.” Max didn’t see a reason to know that. He’ll just leave his souls to their own devices.

“Because you have a lot of souls, you won’t be with them very long. Just through their hard moments before you flash to the next soul. Lastly, you probably won’t see me again until the last soul has died. Then you’re done your job and will move onto the next couple of procedures. Any questions?”

“Yeah! This is stupid-!”

“That’s not a question Mr. Isaeva.” Max took a deep breath. Karma rolled their cold, blue eyes. “You don’t need to breathe, sleep, eat, or hydrate anymore. So ask your question and I’ll send you off.”

“How will I know when I’m at my last soul?”

Karma giggled. “Silly, you’ll know when you aren’t flashing to the next person. However, there is a number on your wrist that shows how much souls are in your care. Call out if you need anything Mr. Isaeva!” Karma waved and there was that blinding light again.

Max first heard the sound a girl crying as the light faded to black. Here we go, Max, dreaded. He opened his eyes and saw a petite, black girl softly crying into her left hand while sitting on her bed in a fluffy, pink room. Clutched in her right hand was her phone with news of his death. Max sat and stared at her. Useless, he thought. Absolute waste of time. Max looked at his right wrist and sighed. There it was. “768 456”.

Max gave the crying girl another glance over. “You’re so fucking stupid to be crying over me. You didn’t even know me, you just liked my music.” He leaned down to her eye level and whispered “Even if I met you before I died, I would’ve hated you. A wretched baby.” The girl sobbed harder and Max stood up straight and smirked, pleased with himself.

After five minutes, he flashed somewhere else. Watching the room change was unnerving.

Next, Max was in the middle of a park where a plus-sized girl was clutching her handsome, now ex-boyfriend as he was trying to break up with her. Her pleas falling on deaf ears as he eventually shoved her off and walked away. She fell on the filthy ground crying her little heart out. “Weak, as if a fatass like you could have someone like him.” Max taunted. She lay there sobbing as he flashed away.

Next, a gangly-looking boy sat awkwardly at his desk in an empty classroom. Tears silently fell down his beat-up face as he stared at a Rejection Letter from Yale University addressed to Morgan Reeves. Behind it, all over his desk, written in permanent marker, was the word “Gay” and a bunch of drawn on dicks. Max laughed, “You’re a disgusting faggot that doesn’t deserve anything good. Just kill yourself and be done with it. Yale is too good for you”. Max barely got the last word out before he was flashed away again.

The days passed agonizingly slow as Max was flashed all over the globe. His anger growing like an untreated cold sore. It was getting increasingly harder not to snap at his souls as they were all little bitches that were either crying or throwing temper tantrums. Max flashed away from the mother crying over her bills, (seriously, what kind of grown-ass women thinks of pop stars during the night?)

This time he was in a barren room where a lone girl sat on a mattress on the floor sewing up the long, velvet skirt she was wearing, humming some kind of familiar melody. She wore a dirty, white tank top with her long and choppy hair pulled over her shoulder and had forlorn brown eyes.

Max was wondering what her problem was when her bedroom door slammed open. The girl’s eyes widened with fear as two gross-looking men walked in. One was a fat, beefy looking man with a beer belly wearing a greasy wife-beater and blue sweatpants. His hair had vacated the top of his head and he held a huge wad of cash. The other was a sweaty, squirrely-looking guy with huge glasses and wearing an ill-fitted suit.

The girl shot up to her feet as the fat man slurred, “Evelyn, this kind gentleman has rented you for an hour. Make it nice.” Max couldn’t move.

“Dad, please. No more!” Evelyn begged as her father walked out. She swallowed hard when the door shut behind him.

The Suit guy let out a chuckle, “Dad? That’s cute. You can call me Daddy if you want.” He chuckled and as he pulled his tie off, walking towards her.

Evelyn silently laid on the bed as the man hovered over her, he fondled her breasts before he violently flipped her over as he pulled his pants and boxers down. Evelyn started to shake as tears began falling out of her dull eyes. Suit sneered. “Don’t act too innocent whore. I know I’m not the first, so this shouldn’t hurt one bit.” He roughly pulled her skirt up, undoing her delicate stitching from her mending, and shoved himself in. Evelyn whimpered and cried out as he continued pumping into her, licking away the tears as they appeared.

This continued with them switching positions from time to time as Max watched. Unable to move, speak, or think. When the hour was up, the man put on his Suit. “You were pretty tight, same time again next week?” Suit walked out laughing.

Evelyn still lay on her bed, naked and dirty. Her body was red, sweaty, with a milky cream splattered over her body. Her cheeks were tearstained as she stared at her blank walls unmovingly. Evelyn started to hum the familiar melody. Max flashed away as he realized what song it was. It was the song that launched Max into stardom. “Elysium”.

Max went through the week in a daze as his thoughts were consumed with Evelyn. Is she ok? Did Suit come back? Why the hell did she just let it happen? She didn’t even try to fight back. Max was in a trance until he arrived in a bathroom. It was Morgan, the gangly, gay boy that got rejected by Yale. He was filling a bathtub. When it was filled, Max silently watched as Morgan climbed in fully clothed.

Max was confused. Then the Morgan lifted up a sharp knife and held it against his wrists. Morgan hoarsely whispered, “I’m a disgusting faggot that doesn’t deserve to live.” Max’s eyes widened as the words sounded painfully familiar. Max shot forward trying to grab him.

Max covered Morgan’s wrists with his hands, frantically yelling, “No! No! No! I’m so sorry I said that! Please!” Max pulled Morgan’s head towards his chest, continuing to protect his wrist. “You deserve the world for all the bullshit you put up with!”

Morgan furiously shook his head and sliced into his wrists. The cold knife sliced into the warm, porcelain flesh as crimson blood gushed into the tub while Morgan sobbed. Turning the water red. Switching hands, the boy sliced the other wrist as Max panicked, failing to try to keep the blood in. Morgan’s head fell back as his skin turned white and cold.

“Karma! Please! I need your help! He’s dying!” Max screamed as he desperately held the boy’s spirit in.

Karma’s disembodied voice replied, “I warned you. You influence them. Maybe you didn’t slice his wrists, but you put the knife in his hands. There’s nothing more you can do.” Then they were gone.

Max shook his head when a small, tired voice whispered, “let me go.” Max sobbed as he shook his head harder.

“I can’t. You need to live. You have so much ahead of you.” Max let go and fell to his knees when he finally felt Morgan’s spirit leave. Max was exhausted as his wrist burned. “768 455". The last thing Max heard was a woman’s scream before he flashed away. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Max sobbed.

Karma’s words constantly replayed in his head, “Maybe you didn’t slice his wrists, but you put the knife in his hands.”

“I killed him. Didn’t I Karma?” There was no answer.

Since watching Evelyn’s rape and feeling the boy’s blood slide through his fingers, Max began making an actual effort to help his souls over the next couple of years.

Right now, there was a pretty, tomboy who just got humiliated in the school cafeteria by the school’s football team because she wanted to try-out. She was crying in an empty classroom. Max held her and kissed the top of her head. “Hey, don’t cry. Your life will have about 27 375 days in it, you will spend maybe 720 days in high school. It’s only a small portion of your life, you’ll be out of this hellhole soon.” Max murmured sweetly in her ear. The girl smiled and Max was flashed away.

Actually spending time to help them and understand where they were coming from, really gave Max an insight as to the shitty person he really was. Helping them now was giving Max hope for the future. Max smiled as he flashed to a hospital room.

His smile fell as he stared at the girl on the bed. It was the one who got dumped. Her once full, rosy cheeks have become sunken and gray with the rest of her body. Her bones sharp and protruding as she lay in her bed, she looked like she’d fall apart with a single touch. Her once rich, black hair now lay limply underneath her as her unfocused, brown eyes watched the television in front of her.

On the screen were gorgeous, skinny models prancing around the stage, showcasing outfits that were horrendous, in Max’s opinion. The volume wasn’t loud enough to cover the barely beeping heart monitor the girl was hooked up to. Beside her was the mom that was crying over her bills. The resemblance between them was uncanny as Max observed the mother clutching her child’s hand.

The beeping was really slowing down as the girl’s eyes started to slowly shut. Max grabbed knelt down beside the girl’s bed and grabbed her hand, “No, please. Not another one. I’m sorry I said that to you. You were hurting and didn’t deserve that. You’re beautiful and that guy doesn’t deserve you.”

Max felt her soul slipping as he desperately tried to hold her in, but it wasn’t working. “Karma! Why can’t I save her!” The beeping slowly stopped before it grew frantic as the girl’s breathing stopped and she slipped away forever. Max’s wrist burned. “768 454". The girl’s mother woke up and started sobbing and kept screaming “Amanda!” Medical professionals ran in, ushering the inconsolable mother outside.

Max flashed outside the room to the mother as she curled inward against the wall, bawling her eyes out. “Why are you doing this Karma? I learnt my lesson, why are you still punishing me?”

An intense pain ricocheted through Max’s head as he cried out in pain. The hospital hallway quickly vanished as Max was encased in darkness. The air tasted like electricity and lightning as it grew heavy and dense with a pressure that overwhelmed Max’s senses.

“How fucking dare you Mr. Isaeva.” Karma’s guttural, disembodied voice amplified through the darkness, shaking Max to his core. “Who in the ever-loving fuck do you think you are? To demand shit from me as if I can reverse your wrongs? Then to accuse me of punishing you! Do you honestly still think everything is about you Mr. Isaeva? Or that I want people to get hurt?“Every word sent a spike of pain to Max’s head.

“Please stop. I’m sorry, you’re right as ever.” Max whimpered. The pressure left as fast as it came, leaving X disorientated. “This is all my fault. She died because I opened my stupid mouth. I’m sorry.”

There was silence. Then Max was flashed to another soul, to begin the cycle again.

Evelyn. Morgan. Amanda. He failed them. Forced Prostitution. Suicide. Anorexia. There are people who help with that right? He could’ve helped with that. Countless times Max was approached to sponsor programs like that, but he just laughed them away. What did he do with his life? Nothing. He didn’t use his influence to make anything worthwhile or important, just made music about partying and sleeping with girls. Using them like Evelyn was used. Making fun of people like Morgan and Amanda.

God, he wasted his life. He has time, his afterlife will be different. Max promises it.

Karma observed and smiled.