It's New Year's Eve and there's a nip in the air that forces me to tug on my leather gloves and tighten the belt of the trench coat I'm wearing. I'm at the intersection of Main and Lincoln, making my way to the only shop that's open tonight. I've been asked to buy grapes.

"To make wishes on," my mother tells me.

I despise New Year's. I always spend it with my adopted family and their friends who never grow tired of asking when I'm going to finally settle down. Like they really care.

Spending New Year's Eve with the family is expected. And being the dutiful son that I want them to think I am, I make the six hour drive to my hometown. I smile and laugh and pretend to ignore the dark thoughts that are constantly swirling inside me. So when my mother asks me to buy grapes, I jump at the chance to escape. It's not like I can blame her for believing that eating grapes could make her wishes come true. She's a woman after all and women believe in crap like that.

It's a ridiculous idea but not as crazy as the tradition of kissing someone at midnight. Like I'm supposed to believe that kissing someone at a certain time of the year will guarantee me a year-long pass from loneliness. Like lottery tickets, it's just another attempt for the desperate to cling onto the hope of a better future.

The streets are surprisingly quiet as I run my errand and I have a few more blocks to go before I reach my destination. I see a woman up ahead and across the street. She's a redhead in black stilettos and a short purple dress that clings to every crook and cranny of her body. She's sexy. I know it. She knows it.

Behind her is a tall bald man with a dragon tattoo on his head that extends towards his left cheek. He's a few paces behind her and he's making her nervous. I can tell by the way she's quickening her pace even though it's probably hell to walk in those heels across pavement. They're coming up on an alley. This part of the neighborhood is dark and ominous- the perfect place for sinning. A decent person would call out to her. Would try and help her. My mouth twists upward and I follow Red and Dragon Man. This should be fun.

By the time I cross the street, he's pulled her into the alley and he's got her pressed against the wall. A nearby street lamp is flickering and for a moment I wonder how many shitty things that street lamp has seen. What stories it could tell. I even imagine it speaking to me in some kind of Morse code. As if that street lamp wants to tell me every single one of its dark and dirty secrets. Or maybe it's calling for help...trying to save this stupid redhead that's gotten herself in jam. Or not. Perhaps instead of calling for help, it's beckoning dark souls like mine to come forward and join the party. Maybe it's what signaled Dragon Man who was currently shoving his hand up Red's dress. I bet she's wishing she hadn't dressed like a whore tonight.

It's a funny thing. Women wear their stilettos and short dresses without a bra. They paint their faces and stick collagen in their lips so that they all look like they're extended relatives to the Kardashians and yet they expect to be treated like ladies. They hide behind the cotton-candied armor of feminism, spouting crap like, "I can dress however I want but it's not an invitation to grope me!"

But here's the rub...no pun intended. You need people like me and Dragon Man. Our presence reminds you that danger lurks everywhere. We keep you from falling into the dangerous trap of believing you're safe. You're not. You can't dress like a whore and expect to be ignored. And let's be honest...you don't want to be ignored. You like it when men crave your body and women envy it. It gives you a false sense of empowerment that you pretend to attribute to strength or self-expressionism. Sure some may nod and agree with you, but we all know that when you show off your body, it's because you want attention. My attention.

If you had a million dollars in your purse, you wouldn't walk through a seedy neighborhood with a sign on your back telling everyone how much money you had, now would you? No, you wouldn't. And you want to know why? Because you'd be too afraid that someone would try and steal it. To take what's precious to you. So it amazes me when you walk around showing off those beautiful breasts and soft thighs just begging for a big bad wolf to gobble you up. And men are wolves. Some of us more vicious than others...but we all have that same animal instinct that forces us to hunt. To claim what we want. And when we see you prancing around in your skimpy clothes like an innocent baby doe, we want you. Delectable you.

Wolves don't care about feminism. Feminism won't protect you from forceful hands pressing you against a brick wall in a dirty alley. No, you're on your own because even while you may spew out some convenient feministic crap you heard from the likes of Taylor Swift, at the end of the day you still want a Valiant Knight on a white horse to come and rescue you. To kill the wolf and give you that fabled happily ever after kiss.

I admit the idea is tempting even to me. A kiss that can change your life. A kiss that can turn a frog into a prince. That can wake a woman from a death-like sleep. Could it change me too? Could it transform this dark soul of mine into that of a Valiant Knight's? Normally, I wouldn't buy into all that crap but this is New Year's Eve. Perhaps a kiss at midnight really could do the trick.

I pull myself out of my thoughts to watch Dragon Man sucking at Red's neck like he's Dracula reborn. If I were anyone else, I might feel sorry for Red. No one wants to be mauled by a vacuum. I wait for her to beg. They always beg. As if an attacker is going to suddenly grow a conscious and say, "Gee Willikers, of course I'll let you go. All you had to do was ask." Idiots. People like me and Dragon Man are numb inside. Begging does nothing for us.

He's got a knife to her side and I look at my watch. I have enough time until midnight.

Something inexplicable is urging me to try out the role of the Valiant Knight. To help save Red even though she is dressed like a whore. Except I'm not some Prince Charming ready to give her a happily ever after. No, I'm a dark soul...at least until I get that New Year's kiss. I walk over and Dragon Man doesn't even hear me he's so busy trying to feel her up.

I can feel his surprise the second my gloved hands wrap around his thick neck. He tries to turn towards me, knife in hand, but it's too late. The popping sound is almost inaudible over Red's loud sobbing. He's dead weight in my arms...literally. Red slides down the wall, her purple dress riding up those silky thighs and I let Dragon Man fall to the ground.

"Are you okay?" I ask and I'm proud of myself. I sound genuinely concerned.

Red doesn't respond right away. She's hiccupping and wiping at her eyes. So much for the fantasy of being the Valiant Knight. The story books never show the princess with mascara running down her cheeks and snot coming out of her nose. Disgusting.

"Are you okay?" I ask again, checking my watch. It's almost midnight. I can hear fireworks in the distance. Dammit, I'm missing the show. I quickly pick up the knife Dragon Man dropped.

"P-police. We need to call the police!" she finally manages to say. "Is he...is he dead?"

Is she stupid? Of course he's dead! He's lying on the dirty asphalt, eyes and mouth still open. He's not exactly posing for a selfie. I don't have time for this. It's almost midnight and I want my life-changing New Year's Eve kiss. I extend a hand towards her which she cautiously takes. Her eyes are still on Dragon Man. Maybe she knew him and they were acting out some Fifty Shades of Gray kinda crap.

"Are you okay?" I ask for the third time and I know my voice has an edge of annoyance to it.

She shakes her head but I don't have time to play Dr. Phil with her. I want my kiss and like it or not, Red is going to give it to me.

"It's almost midnight," I say.

"You-you killed him," she whispers and looks up at me with these big green eyes that remind me of the grapes my mother always makes me eat before I make a New Year's wish.

"I had to," I whisper back. My hands are on her shoulders and she pulls away from me.

Wait. That's not supposed to happen. The princess never pulls away from the prince. She takes his kiss and marries him. They live happily ever after riding away on a white stallion into the sunset. She doesn't ask questions about how he saved her. If I was any other person, I might feel guilty after taking out Dragon Man. She should be thankful. She should be down on her knees thanking me. At the very least, she should be puckering up so I can have my New Year's kiss.

She's making this keening noise and by now I can hear a countdown in the distance.

Ten!

Nine!

Is she going to kiss me or what?

"Y-you murdered him! You're a...a murderer," she gasps.

Fireworks are lighting up the sky. It couldn't get any more romantic but she's worried about the corpse of the man that almost assaulted her. Women are never satisfied.

Five!

Four!

She's looking around like she's going to make a run for it but this wolf isn't going to let her get away. Not that easily. The knife is still in my hand and I use it.

Two!

Happy New Year!

She groans and those big green eyes widen in surprise. I lean forward and my lips touch hers. They're warm and taste like beer, making me feel a little woozy...a little intoxicated with the magic of it all. Is this what Prince Charming felt like? Did Snow White's lips taste like apples? I have her pinned to the wall but she's gone. Her spirit is finally free from the wolves of the night. Her body falls with a thud and I roll my shoulders back. I don't feel any different. I don't have any urges to save kittens from trees or puppies from burning houses. If anything, I want to burn a house down.

Well, hell.

This is proof that magical kisses don't exist. Good loses and the dark soul lives another day. I wipe at Red's lips and pull Dragon Man closer to her. This will be fun for the police to solve. I may even see my handiwork on the evening news...again. My eyes linger on her pink lips. Perhaps it's for the best. The world needs me. It needs darkness.

Without souls like mine, the Valiant Knight becomes obsolete. He's no longer a hero because we're not there to make him one. It's because of me that women dream of perfect men and happy endings and grapes that make wishes come true.

My phone dings and I see a text message from my mother.

It's a reminder to hurry with the grapes.

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