by Grant Hunter
DARK NET GAME
By Grant Hunter
Copyright 2020 Grant Hunter
Lovely Presents Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
PROLOGUE
The pain distracts my mind from the question that haunts me. For God’s sake, how did I get here? But there is only pain and fear of a new assault.
‘Calm down, Naomi!’ I whisper into the windless silence. I look around. Listen to every little sound.
The deserted building seems to be engulfed by the emptiness. I breathe in the strange air that this abandoned slaughterhouse holds. It feels like my soul has already departed, as I keep walking around in this maze of horror and concrete.
Naomi, you cannot escape. You know that. They are going to tear you apart!
Yes, I do. As proof, fresh blood still trickles down my hand. The wolves are attracted by this smell.
Behind me, I hear scolding. Oh, my God, no, not yet...
The head is tilted; the blue eyes are half closed, just as before. I know what it means. My throat is choking. I am getting ready for a new attack. But the wolf only pulls back his lips and shows his teeth. Teardrops flow and refresh my glowing cheeks. I drop to the floor and cover my eyes. Unconscious and blind, refusing to see how this monster will tear me apart.
A voice says Wake up.
I am in the foetal position.
Oh God, please hurry. If you are there, if you are really there, please, do it quickly...
I make the sounds, even if I do not really say the words.
‘Those damned drugs. One minute... Naomi?’
The male voice seems different. Something stings me. The minutes pass and I lie still, quiet, breathless. I carefully open one eye and look away.
‘Are you still here?’ the voice says. Quietly, I let my eyes get used to the blinding white light. I am still lying on the hospital bed, strapped into a straitjacket.
‘Please. Let me go. Why do you keep doing that?’ Stupid Question. He will give me the same answer. Again and again. And it’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have blackmailed him.
He leans toward me and breathes deeply. As if he wants to ask me an important question. ‘How do you bear the pain? I’m impressed. I want to know something. Why did you do it?’
‘You pig, if I...’
‘What is it you want, Naomi. A pardon?’ He smiled. ‘Tell me. What would you do in my place? If you were me? They’re all dead, remember?’
I raise my head, now that my eyes are accustomed to the light. ‘You really want to know? Is that why you brought me back? I thought you would understand. You understand everything, you understand everybody.’
‘No, I don’t, Naomi. Please explain. Why did you do it? Was it revenge, or for pleasure?’
I shake my head, the only part of the body that I can move. ‘You cannot stand the fact of not knowing it. You are wondering why…’
A shadow passes in front of me. She does not seem as alive as before.
‘It is over, my darling,’ she says in a sweet voice.
I know it’s a lie. I am not dreaming any more. It’s a hallucination, freaking me out for days.
‘I can see her… Angel is back…’
‘If you don’t answer me, you are of no use to me,’ he says. He takes the syringe out of his pocket, and smiles at me.
‘W-what are you going to do?’
I resist as hard as I can, but the straightjacket grips me tightly. It feels like I fade inside the bed. I spit and shout at the man dressed in white, who leans over me, and pushes the syringe into my neck.
‘Don’t worry, Naomi. You will be totally relaxed in a few minutes. Like everybody else here. Everything will be like a bad dream.’
‘I’ll never be like your other patients,’ I yell. ‘I’m not crazy. You may believe you can keep me here forever, but there will be a day... and...’
He nods while he writes in his notebook.
‘… and then, I will kill you…’ I whisper.
He flips his notebook and stares at me intensely. I want to shout, but I can’t. My eyelids are heavy. Once more, I descend into the dark, but this time it is forever.
1
My gut instinct started screaming at me: Run, keep running! Don’t stop! I wanted to go faster, but had to slow down a little. Cold sweat dripped down my forehead. Like ice-cold diamonds. My legs felt weak. There was this burning sensation and I heard a strange popping sound in my ankles. Don’t pay attention. Just ignore the pain, like before! Using all my strength, I carried on. Don’t stop, Naomi. Don’t give up now. Don’t look back.
Someone grabbed me from behind. But when I looked over, I could barely see anything. Darkness suddenly dropped over me. I wasn’t able to distinguish anything – let alone someone. My eyes seemed welded shut. No matter how hard I tried to open them, I didn’t succeed. Damn! Why couldn’t I move? Or feel my hands? I wanted to tear them loose. But I could only feel a numb tingling tingly sensation where my arms should be.
Someone slapped me and pulled my hair.
‘Naomi, stop it!’
‘No!’ I screamed. I kicked around, which only tightened the grip, and it felt like my scalp would tear from my skull. I just hung there, crying. My eyelids fluttered. Suddenly my eyes opened and I saw a face. I recognized the man who held me. I know him! A sharp shock ran through my spine looking at him, but I couldn’t remember who he was. He gave me an almost mischievous smile.
‘You cannot leave,’ he said.
He sounded normal, but the next second it seemed like his face blurred and I only saw the spider web tattoo in his neck.
I murmured something.
‘Naomi? Hey!’
Something else shook me from behind. The shaking increased, until I woke up.
‘W-what?’
A thin face with a broad smile stood over me.
‘Jenny…’
‘Bloody hell, Naomi. I thought you were having a seizure. You were beating the air around like an idiot. I heard you screaming through the wall. So I came to wake you up. I thought I was doing you a favour,’ she said.
‘Thanks, Jen. I feel better already.’
I curled up on my pillow and stretched out. My gaze slid to the window. A slight summer breeze made the curtains move back and forth.
‘I mean,’ Jen said calmly, ‘your door was open.’
‘That’s weird. Probably forgot to shut it. Thank you, Jenny. You saved me from a knight mare.’
Jen gave a grin of annoyance. Her short, cropped hair bounced as she shook her head. ‘A night-mare. It’s nightmare. Please say it properly.”
I sighed. Although I was fond of the twenty-one-year-old Jen, I found it annoying she always wanted to correct my pronunciation. Even more because she spoke with a strong American accent. Her Californian speaking English sounded ridiculously enthusiastic.
‘Fine.’
‘No, it’s not fine. It’s kinda funny, you know? But your Dutch accent makes you sound badass. It’s too harsh and if I don’t correct you, you may never learn.’
‘All right, Mum.’
She nodded. ‘I’m just helping you.’
‘Sure.’
I jumped out of the bed and slipped into my woolly slippers. ‘I think you feel jealous of my exotic accent.’
Jen gave a hysterical scream. I knew it was her version of a laugh. A strange high pitched laugh, a sign that she was having fun. Jen had been my best friend since the day I arrived in the student house at Van Burgh Park. One of the fanciest streets of London. The first time I met her, she was al
l dressed in white, and wore real flowers on her head. Especially to welcome me. At first, I thought Jen was weird. Until she told me she was the daughter of a world-famous actor, and that she herself had drama-school training. She quickly launched me into her circle of friends and made me feel at home in the busy London student life. She studied at Greenwich University and knew all the trendy places. What immediately struck me was that the flamboyant student really knew everyone, and everyone knew Jenny. That made my student life a lot more easier and interesting.
‘Come on lazy bones, get dressed,’ she said. ‘We are waiting for you. Joy is making breakfast.’
I mumbled in agreement, but could hardly suppress a sigh. It was the same every Saturday: Joy McAllen made an English breakfast for her tenants. My landlord was not an old, severe, badly dressed middle-aged woman who watched us from behind the keyhole. Joy was not much older than the students to whom she rented the stately building. She was smooth, sporty, and friendly, but only to a point. She could fix you with her piercing eyes. I tried to stay friends with her, even though it was difficult.
‘Don't make her wait.’
‘Always the same,’ I grumbled while I stumbled through my room looking for something to wear. ‘I never complain about her Saturday English breakfast ritual, but she doesn't have to haste me.’
‘I know,’ sighed Jen.
‘She lost her family ten years ago, but we are not a substitute. We can’t help her.’
I lifted my bra off the floor and sniffed it.
‘It could be worn another day!’
Jen giggled crazily when I flipped the thing on and fastened it at the back.
‘No substitutes,’ she said. ‘Nevertheless, it does help her to process that trauma and you will stay friends with her, right?’
‘If you say so.’
‘You don’t really like her, eh?’
‘I can’t do anything about it. I get the jitters around her. Even though I find it awful that her family died in that plane crash.’
And that was sincere. Because to me, it seemed the worst nightmare ever. I could not imagine what Joy must have been going through. She told me about the dreams she had of burning people. Her eyes brimmed with tears. I did not dare to ask how it all happened. For me, it was no more than a vague event on the news.
‘How is it even possible that her dreams saved her life…’
‘Yes, that’s really bizarre.’
‘I don’t want to believe that the dream I just had was like that,’ I said softly.
‘Crazy girl.’
‘With Joy, it was foresight. How else could it be explained?’
She rolled her eyes.
‘Your mess is unexplained, Naomi. Here, undies. Socks. Dresses. Pants…’ She threw me a hotpants with a flower print on it.
‘Seriously, Jenny. What do you think of Joy’s story? Don’t you believe in destiny?’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘That her parents are dead because they have not taken seriously a fifteen year old, with dreams about airplane crashes? That doesn't make sense.’
‘But it did happen. That plane crashed. How do you explain that?’
Jen sighed, bent down and picked up some trousers.
‘I can’t,’ she muttered.
‘She begged her parents not to take that plane. Because her dream had seemed so real.’
‘Don’t get so worked up. You just had a normal dream.’ Jen pressed a pair of jeans in my hand.
‘I have been getting those nightmares more often,’ I whispered. ‘I can’t escape, they seem so real. It is almost as if...’ I swallowed the rest of my words.
‘All crap,’ said Jen.
‘Crap? Did you know that Sharon Tate had strange dreams and hallucinations just before she was murdered? In those vivid dreams she saw her own death.’
‘What? Bloody hell, Naomi.’
‘I found that on Google. I wanted to know why I have those nightmares.’
Jen shook her head and mumbled something.
‘So you think it is crap,’ I said. That was exactly why I didn’t tell her why I had left the Netherlands and why, here in London, I tried to forget the past.
‘I think I’m hungry. Come on, Naomi, my stomach is rumbling.’
‘OK, calm down.’
I slipped into my skin tight jeans and held my breath as I closed the button. ‘Damn. I smell toast and bacon. But I would kill for a yogurt. Joy is feeding us fat! Look at that…’
Jen shook her head and walked out of my room.
‘I’ll see you downstairs.’
2
Slowly I grabbed yesterday’s blouse from my chair. Oh My God. A disgusting smell of old sweat and beer arose. I grabbed my flower deodorant and sprayed myself until the can was empty. When I closed the last button I noticed the nasty stain at the bottom. The red wine stain Jenny caused last night, when she tipped over the bottle on the table –it was still visible, despite my frantic attempt to get rid of the damage by using all the soap from the dispensers in the toilet of Roxy’s bar. Oh well, what did it matter? For today it would be fine.
I turned to the long mirror, standing in the corner of my little student room. I saw a long, almost lanky woman with a far too pale face. Outlined by black shadows under her eyes, making the puffiness more noticeable. Her long bleached hair hung unwashed over her face.
Someone knocked at my door. I sighed and tidied my hair.
‘Come in...’
The door swung open and Joy walked in. Her hair in a ponytail. She wore a black T-shirt with a deep cleavage, showing her breasts bouncing up and down with every step she took.
She pointed to my face with a spoon. ‘Holy shit! What do you look like! The Living Dead is nothing compared to you. Certainly must have finished late.’
‘Depends what you call late. You could as truthfully say it finished early!’
She straightened the mirror without asking.
‘There that’s better, don’t you think?’
‘It’s your mirror.’
‘I have something to tell you. I want to do that over breakfast. Is that OK?’
I swallowed when I noticed the compelling, somewhat accusing glance that only Joy could give someone. Quickly, before she could say anything, I reached in my pocket and pulled out all my paper money.
‘There. Here is some.’
She mumbled something unintelligible about the rent, something about a contract; I gave her my most pleading and engaging smile.
‘Sorry…’
‘You’re Sorry? Your credit is running out.’ She burst out. ‘I'm only pulling up with your shit because Jen is supporting you. Damn it, Naomi! You know the rules. You signed the rental contract yourself.’
‘Yes, I know...’
She mumbled something, grabbed the money and shoved it in her cleavage.
‘We are having breakfast in the garden. Everyone is waiting for you. Are you coming or not?’
‘Yes. Of course, I just have to brush my teeth.’
‘Hey sleepyhead...’ A loud voice sounded behind Joy.
‘Morning, Robin.’
‘Good morning! Christ woman. It’s almost evening. Come on, lazy cow. Everybody is hungry. They are dying a slow death while you just sleep all day long.’
He didn’t wait for an answer, but pulled Joy close and bit her neck.
‘Ouch!’ she screamed. But it didn’t sound like she meant it. She gave the smallest hint of a smile.
I couldn’t stand Joy’s new boyfriend. He annoyed me. Like now. How he bit her neck, winked and smiled at me at the same time. Seriously?
He had his leather jacket on. His dark and wild, hair was covering his forehead, and I couldn’t resist the idea that he used black eyeliner. He wore ridiculously tight motorcycle pants and held his helmet, like a crown, in his left hand.
It was mostly his ambiguous, sexist remarks that bothered me. As well as his begging for attention. His laughter and his eternal flirtation. It also annoyed me that Joy did
n’t seem to notice, or care, how her new boyfriend was using her. According to me, he pursued her for the money.
‘Macho man,’ I mumbled, quietly so that he wouldn't hear it.
He threw me an amused smile and let Joy go. Pulled his helmet over his head and formed his hand into a pistol shape that he pointed at us and fired.
‘See you later babes. I have to go.’
Joy’s cheeks turned crimson when she walked out after him and closed my door behind her.
I rushed to the sink facing my bed, which looked like there had been an earthquake and my wardrobe exploded. I threw the stuff down behind me, put some toothpaste on my toothbrush and brushed the beer taste out of my mouth. I spat red foam in the sink and grinned into the small mirror to see where the gums bled.
I had left my electric toothbrush home, in the Netherlands. I could cope by myself and I would show my parents that. They wanted to have me at home this summer vacation, but I'd rather relax in London’s life. Though that was tricky with the modest parental allowance I received. The cost of the nightlife was excruciatingly high. I didn’t earn nearly enough from my job in the hospitality industry.
I put my mouth under the tap, washed away the blood and sighed when I looked at my small room reflected in the sink mirror. What I didn’t understand was that Joy let me pay much less than she should ask. I didn’t mind it, I was happy here. This summer vacation, or the beginning of it, was ideal to get my life back in order. I had to succeed, before my next academic year started.
My love of language and culture had driven me to London, where I studied English literature at the University of Greenwich. But that wasn’t the only reason I lived here. I shook my head as if trying to throw a nasty thought out of my cluttered mind, brushed my hair and threw a last look into the mirror. At least my Living Dead Look was gone!
Smiling with grim satisfaction, I walked out my room, through the hallway, down the main staircase in the middle of the house. Following my nose, towards the fatty smell of fried sausage and bacon.
3
The kitchen door was wide open and I walked outside, into to the sun-drenched lawn. In the centre of the garden stood a table, covered with sweetmeats, fruits, and other things. On one side there was a long bench, and on the other side, there were chairs, where they all gathered together. All the students were restless but quiet, and they all stared at me when. My cheeks turned red.