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A red and black mask.
My mind skipped back to the first time I saw it.
Whatever he was going to say was cut off by the slice of the knife across his throat. He let out a gurgle. Light reflected off a gush of blood which poured from his open neck. His eyes opened wide and he sagged.
Shit.
I caught a glimpse of the mask he wore on his face. Black with splashes of red here and there. A black feather slanted from the top of either side of the mask, across his forehead. Simple, but menacing.
The denial I'd embraced so soundly, shattered. The reality came crashing into my brain. I don't know how long I'd known the truth. Maybe I'd known it all along.
The guys I'd fucked, and were falling for, and the guys I'd seen murder that man were the same people.
Hands trembling, I touched the mask. Maybe my hand would go right through it. Maybe this was some stress induced hallucination.
My fingers bumped against plastic covered with black fabric, red fabric and feathers.
It was real.
The nightmare had found me.
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