To make sure I wasn't being catfished, I asked a psychic streamer to calculate my online girlfriend's true weight. The Master did his math and said, "Your girlfriend is 98 pounds. She's got a great figure." Before I could celebrate, he added: "However, her weight is going to change drastically today. The heaviest part will be 6 pounds; the lightest will be 2 ounces." As I was wondering what that meant, a comment flashed across the screen: [Oh no, your girlfriend is getting dismembered today!] 01 Seeing that comment, I lost my cool. "That’s not funny, guys. Don't go around wishing death on people." But Master Sterling just looked at the camera. "Kid, you've watched my streams before. Think about it—do I ever joke?" This was Master Sterling. He had been streaming for years and had never been wrong. People fought for a chance to get a reading from him; I only got through today because of pure luck. I panicked. "Master, is she really going to... you know?" Mia was only 21. She was kind, gentle, and sweet. There was no reason for her to die like that. But the Master nodded. "I’m afraid so." "Can I tell her to hide at a police station? I’ll call her right now." "A violent omen is heading straight for her life path. Even if she dodges it now, she won't escape the next one," he said, shaking his head. I couldn't sit still. "Who is trying to hurt her?!" "I don't know. Even if I did, I couldn't say. Leaking the secrets of the universe brings a heavy price." He refused to give more details and warned me: "Don't be impulsive. If you interfere with someone else's karma, you'll be dragged down too." I couldn't just watch. I dialed Mia's number immediately. Yesterday, she complained to me about a guy living in the apartment above her. He kept dropping cigarette butts on her balcony, ruining her laundry. She was planning to go upstairs and confront him today. Could that be it? A fight with a neighbor ending in murder? The call went through. Mia’s sweet voice answered, "Hey, babe! What’s up?" "Mia, did you go see that guy upstairs?" I asked frantically. "Don't go! Stay away from him!" Mia sounded confused. "Why?" Remembering the Master's warning, I tried to be vague. "I'm just worried. You're a girl going to a stranger's place alone. I don't want you getting bullied." "But... I already went." "What?!" Mia sounded indignant. "You were right, though. That guy is a total psycho. Not only did he scream at me, but he actually threatened to hack me to pieces with a cleaver!" I swore under my breath. "Did you call the cops? Lock your doors and windows! Call the building manager!" "No need for all that drama," Mia giggled. "I moved out." "You moved?" "Yeah. I don't have much stuff anyway. One suitcase was enough for the essentials." In the background, I heard the mechanical voice of a public announcement system. A train station. "Where are you now?" "I'm coming to see you! I'm already on the Amtrak," she said tentatively. "Is that okay? I already broke my lease." The people in the livestream were watching me make the call. The chat was scrolling like crazy: [Damn, that's bold!] [She's coming straight to his door. Don't waste the opportunity, bro!] [98 pounds and moving in? You're a lucky man.] I wasn't in the mood for their jokes. The train from the next city took only twenty minutes. She’d be here any second. This was my chance to protect her. I told her I'd be there to pick her up and hung up. "Master," I asked, "She’s moved out and she's on a train. Is she still in danger?" "As of right now, her fate hasn't changed." My heart sank. "I can see you've got a good heart, kid. I'll give you one more hint." He pointed to a white card on my desk. "Tear that card in half." I was confused but did it anyway. "Now flip it over," he said. I looked at the back. I realized it was a photo—a Polaroid a friend took of me at the beach. I had left it face-down on my desk weeks ago. "You've already stepped into the karma of others. Your final state will be exactly what's in that photo." The photo was torn in two. In the picture, I was smiling in front of the ocean, but my head and my body were no longer connected. 02 The chat exploded. [Holy crap, the head is gone. Is this guy for real or just a hack?] [How did he know that was a photo? Must be a paid actor in the stream.] [Yeah, and he said he couldn't leak secrets, then he goes and shows him that?] The Master spoke up: "I can't reveal the secrets of heaven to everyone, but I have the spiritual protection to resist the fallout. You ordinary people do not." The doubts continued. One comment caught my eye: [Wait, don't you need a birth date and time for a reading? This guy never gave his birthday.] Right! I hadn't given him any of my info. How could he know my head would be separated from my body? I let out a breath. He almost got me. Livestream psychics are just entertainment, right? I couldn't take it seriously. I closed the app and got ready to pick up Mia. Since this was our first time meeting in person, I put on my best clothes and bought a bouquet of flowers. When I arrived at the station, Mia’s train had just pulled in. After a short wait, a girl in a white trench coat walked out. She was wearing a matching "couples' bracelet" I had sent her. It was Mia. She looked exactly like her photos—tall, pretty, and elegant. A total dream girl. The meeting went smoothly. She was a bit shy but politely thanked me for letting her stay. It was clear she was happy with what she saw in me, too. I took her luggage and called an Uber to take her back to my place. While waiting for the car, I asked, "Can you tell me more about what happened upstairs at your old place?" Mia shivered at the memory. "You have no idea. I honestly thought I wasn't going to make it out alive..." She explained that when she went to confront the guy, his door was slightly ajar. She knocked for a long time, but no one answered. So, she just pushed it open. "There was a loud thumping sound inside. Like someone was chopping something. Thump, thump, thump. It was so loud he didn't hear me." She paused, swallowing hard. "I walked into the living room and called out. He finally heard me and came out of the kitchen." I found myself getting tense as she spoke. "The guy was huge. He had this long, nasty scar across his face. He was holding a knife dripping with blood. It was all over his pants. I almost died of fright right then and there." "But..." "Even though I was terrified, I told him to stop dropping cigarettes on my balcony." "What did he say?" Before she could answer, a horn honked. Our Uber had arrived. We sat in the back seat together, and Mia continued: "After I told him why I was there, he went ballistic. He screamed at me for coming in, completely ignored what I said, told me to get the hell out, and promised to gut me!" "Why was he so aggressive?" I asked. Mia frowned. "I don't know. As I was leaving, I glanced into the kitchen. The counters were covered in blood. And the thing on the cutting board... it was weird. I couldn't see clearly from the door, but it was a pale body with dark hair. I don't know what kind of animal it was." I felt a chill. "What if it wasn't an animal?" "Oh god! You don't think I stumbled onto a serial killer, do you?" I tried to comfort her. "Probably not. What are the odds?" "I hope so. But either way, I couldn't live under a guy like that. I had to get out." Then, the driver in the front seat let out a chuckle. "That’s funny." Mia was startled. "What's funny, sir?" The driver had been listening to us. He sounded like an expert on the subject. "You kids have quite the imagination. Dismemberment? Do you know how much strength it takes to chop up a body? Unless a guy is built like an ox, he isn't doing that alone." I looked at the driver. He looked to be in his late fifties, gray hair at his temples, looking fairly energetic. He didn't look like a bad guy. Mia thought for a second. "Is a pro boxer strong enough? That neighbor had trophies and boxing certificates all over his walls." The driver made a sound of surprise. "Well, then, maybe. My son is a heavyweight boxer. Those guys are all muscle. They definitely have the strength." I looked at my own skinny arms and silently put my jacket on. I didn't want to talk about this anymore, so I changed the subject. The station was crowded with cars. The driver’s phone rang. After a quick talk, he turned to us. "Hey, do you guys mind a carpool? My son just arrived at the station too. If I pick him up, I'll give you half off the fare." I wanted to say no—I didn't want to look cheap on our first date—but Mia beat me to it. "Sure! We can do a carpool." She smiled at me. "Every dollar counts, right? You don't mind, do you?" "Not at all." I admired how down-to-earth she was. I pulled out my phone and peeked at the Master's stream again. People were still asking about me. I typed: [Picked up the girlfriend. Everything is fine. Thanks for the concern.] "Babe, look at that." Mia nudged my elbow. She was pointing at a dark stain on the back of the front seat that trailed down to the floor mats. It was dark and dry, hard to see on the black interior unless you looked closely. "Looks like... blood," I whispered. "Probably just spilled some groceries or something." "My son is here," the driver said. "Let’s get moving." A massive, dark-skinned man with bulging muscles opened the door and sat in the passenger seat. The moment she saw him, Mia's entire body went rigid. She started shaking. Her eyes went wide, her eyelashes trembling. "What’s wrong?" I whispered. Mia pointed a shaking finger at the man in front. "It’s... it's him..." She was so terrified she had lost her voice. "Damn it, what a bad day!" the man in the front seat growled to the driver. "That girl from downstairs saw me today. I heard she took a train here to the city. I need to find her and kill her before she talks." My heart stopped. Is he...? "Watch your mouth! We have passengers," the driver scolded him, then turned to us with a fake smile. "Sorry about that. My son talks nonsense. He’s never killed anyone." The scarred man finally looked at us. He stared at Mia for two seconds, then slowly licked the scar on his lip. "Dad, quit the act. This is the girl from downstairs." Holy... "Are you sure?" the driver asked. "I’d know that face anywhere." "Well then." The driver reached under his seat and sighed. "I hate to get my car messy again." He pulled out a long, blood-stained meat cleaver. I went into a state of primal shock. I tried to pull the door handle, but it wouldn't move. The windows were locked. The car had been modified. The driver floored the gas. He handed the cleaver to his son. The scarred man shifted in his seat, tilted his head, and looked at us with a grin. "So, which one of you goes first? Do you want to be chopped up, or should I just take the head?" 03 Mia was hyperventilating. "I... I didn't see anything today! Please, just let us go!" I was terrified. "Listen, man, this is a misunderstanding. Don't do this! I have thousands in my account. I'll transfer it all to you right now. Just drop us at the next light, okay?" Silas, the scarred man, raised the blade. "You think I'm an idiot? If I let you go, I get the chair. Your money isn't worth my life!" He swung the cleaver. I dove down, feeling the cold steel whistle over my head. I felt a chill on my scalp. I touched my head—a large chunk of my hair had been sliced off. One inch lower and my skull would have been split open. "Son, wait," the driver said. "There are cops everywhere checking for DUIs this close to the holidays. Let’s get out of the city limits first." "Fine." Silas didn't put the knife away. He forced us to transfer all the money in our bank apps to his account. "Don't even think about calling for help, or I'll hack you both before the cops even get a block away." We obeyed. He took our phones. Then he leaned back to rest. We were leaving the city. I debated lunging for the steering wheel. But if we crashed and didn't die, he'd kill us. If we crashed too hard, we’d die anyway. "Cough... cough..." Mia started coughing. She caught my eye and pointed toward the floor under the driver's seat. Something shiny was there. A blade? Hope flared. If we had a weapon, we had a chance. I signaled her to grab it. Mia was smart. She used her foot to hook it out and then reached down. But then she let out a blood-curdling scream. "AHHHH!" She threw the object away. It landed right on Silas's lap. It wasn't a blade. It was a severed human finger. A woman's finger with a long, glittery acrylic nail. The "shine" we saw was the rhinestones on the nail. 04 "Oh." Silas looked at the finger. "Hey, it's that girl from two nights ago." He picked it up and played with it. "She was pretty, but she didn't have much cash. My dad likes to rob passengers, but that's boring. I like the art. I like the way a body comes apart." He turned around and smiled at Mia. "Especially one as pretty as yours." He kissed the severed finger, his eyes lecherous. "You're much prettier than she was." I was shaking with rage and fear. I knew this road. We were heading toward the rural outskirts. There was a three-way junction ahead. Two led back to the city; one led to the isolated farm country. They’d take the isolated one. The roads there were full of speed bumps because the locals were always trying to catch people speeding so they could "fine" them. I felt my keys in my pocket. There was a small folding box-cutter on the keychain. "Ryan, when he tries to kill me, just run," Mia whispered, crying. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this." "Don't," I whispered back. The driver saw us in the mirror and smirked. "Mia," I whispered as low as possible. "Remember that game we played? The one with the rope and the knife?" Mia froze, then her eyes widened. She understood. We had played a survival game together online. We had won a match once by using a cord and a knife inside a vehicle. As the city faded into farmlands, Mia asked, "Can we open a window? It's hot in here." Silas growled, "You're about to be dead. You don't need air." Mia took off her trench coat. It had a long, sturdy leather belt. I gripped my box-cutter. The car turned into the rural road. Silas started sharpening the blade. I counted the distance. There was a steep hill coming up with five consecutive speed bumps at the bottom. The car would have to slow to 15 mph. 300 yards... 200 yards... 100 yards... 50... 30... "MIA!" Mia lunged. She looped the leather belt around the driver's neck from behind, braced her feet against the seat, and pulled with everything she had. "Shit!" Silas yelled, swinging the cleaver at Mia's head. I threw myself over her, grabbing his arm. Silas was a heavyweight boxer; he was pure power. Even with my adrenaline pumping, I was losing. My strength was failing... "Watch out!" Mia ducked. The cleaver smashed through the side window. The driver was gasping, clawing at the belt. The car swerved wildly, the horn blaring. Silas pulled the knife back to swing at me. I took the box-cutter and stabbed it repeatedly into his arm. He let out a roar of pain. The driver, turning purple, lost control. The car hit the speed bumps, flipped twice, and crashed into a muddy cornfield. "Mia! You okay?" I was dizzy, my head ringing. But the door, damaged from the flip, popped open.
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