Fractured Minds (Rebels of Sandland Book 3)

by Nikki J Summers

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  My heart caught in my throat, and an overpowering sickness washed over me. But she carried on, choosing to stare at the floor instead of look at me and see the hurt in my eyes.

  “Sandland is nothing but a black hole of memories I’d rather forget. It’s a town with no hope, no future as far as I can see. And now he’s back, it’s even worse. It’s unbearable. You’re the only thing that’s kept me tied to this place, but I can’t stay here anymore. Not now. I’m praying to God you feel the same way.” She took a deep breath and then raised her head to look right at me. “Come with me, Finn. Let’s go somewhere that no one knows us. Start again. Be whoever we want to be without his vileness dragging us down.”

  I knew what she wanted, and it pained me to see her beg like this. I understood her completely, I always did. But her solution was to run and hide. I couldn’t do that. Not anymore.

  “I can’t.” I reached my hand out to take hers and she let me, rubbing her thumb over my knuckles as I dug deep within me to try and think of what to say to make this better. She shouldn’t have to leave. He was the one who needed to go. Not her.

  “Why won’t you come with me? You always used to say you’d do anything to make me happy. Why won’t you do this?” Right then, she’d switched to her child-like façade, the one she chose to hide behind when things got too rough. She was disappointed that I wouldn’t see things the way she wanted me to see them, and this was her way of trying to gently manipulate me.

  I knew Alice had a lot of her childhood stolen from her. She didn’t act or see things in the way most adults her age did. But I couldn’t hold that against her. She was a woman-child for a reason. With adulthood came responsibility, with that came expectations, and Alice struggled with all of it. He might have robbed her of her innocence, but the child from years ago still lived inside her today, and she refused to leave the safety of Alice’s mind. Like a frightened little girl, hiding behind a cupboard or a wardrobe, she lingered but never fully stepped out because of the fear that trapped her there.

  “We’re not kids anymore, Alice.” She flinched at my words hitting a little too close to home, striking with an honesty she wasn’t open to accepting. “As much as I want to move on from what happened and be there for you, I need to stay here. This is my home. My friends are here. I have a life.”

  “And what about me? What about my life?” She dropped my hand and recoiled back into herself. A coping mechanism she’d honed over the years.

  “Our lives were tainted by his evil. Our history distorted to feed his sickness. But we can’t let him have the future. I want a future here, Al. If I get rid of him, if I make him pay, we can find a way to move on.”

  I felt justified in what I’d said. Sandland was my home. He was the intruder. But my words weren’t hitting home like I’d hoped. Alice just shook her head as if she were trying to deflect my thoughts from penetrating her consciousness.

  “I can’t move on. Not here. I’ve been feeling like this for ages now, but him coming back, it’s confirmed things for me. I can’t be here anymore. Sandland is a graveyard of misery. If I stay, I’ll be the next one to be buried. I’m dying here.”

  I didn’t want her misery to drag her down further. I had to think about what was best for both of us. I wouldn’t be able to bear the weight of guilt if anything happened to her. Maybe Alice leaving Sandland, getting as far away from him as she could, was the right thing to do. Even if it felt like a cut from a thousand knives to my already battered heart. For her, it was the only solution, and I’d have to accept that.

  “Where would you go?” I asked, hoping she’d think about it and start to see some of the obstacles in her way.

  “I’ve got a friend that lives over at Brinton Manor. She said I can stay there.”

  This was the first I’d heard about it.

  “What friend? I’ve never heard you talk about a friend from there before.”

  “Her name’s Danya. She can’t wait for me to stay with her.” Alice started to chatter away about this friend of hers, and the infectious way she talked about it made me warm slightly towards the idea of her leaving. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke and she sat taller, prouder. That wasn’t something Alice did often. I was pissed that this was the first time I was hearing about this Danya girl, but I could never stay cross at Alice for long. She had her secrets too, obviously. Like my secret. My Effy.

  “Sounds like your mind’s made up already. Why Brinton Manor, though? It’s a shithole town. Can’t you both go somewhere new? Why would you want to stay there?”

  Brinton Manor was the town next to Sandland, and we’d all avoided it like the plague. Their issues made ours look like child’s play. It was the kind of town even the police steered clear of, mainly down to one factor.

  The Soldiers of Anarchy.

  They were a gang, much like ourselves, but they didn’t bring anything to their manor other than destruction, hatred and terror. They didn’t throw parties like we did. They didn’t strive to make their town better. All they created was mayhem. They hated us and we hated them, but there was an unspoken rule between Sandland and Brinton Manor. We stayed out of each other’s patch. That way, we kept the peace. It was a volatile peace, but it had worked so far. I wasn’t quite sure whether that would last if I had to go there to visit my sister though. But that was an issue for another day.

  “It’s better than Sandland.”

  “Is it? Last I heard, their streets weren’t safe to walk during the day, let alone at night.” Alice had been cosseted for the most part by me. I don’t even think she knew who the Soldiers of Anarchy were.

  “It’s not safe for strangers maybe… But I wouldn’t be walking the streets on my own, would I? Danya’s offered to help me. Finn, she’s special. More than just a friend.”

  I wasn’t ready for her to elaborate on what more than a friend meant. She was still my sister, after all.

  “If you need to leave, I understand, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you. But I can’t come with you.” I hated letting her down, but it was the only way. “I wouldn’t even know how to start again. I’m barely holding on as it is.”

  “I’d help you. We’d be there for each other. Plus, Danya would help us. You’ll love her, Finn. She’s so kind and caring and––” I cut her off. I was in pain, and this conversation was making it worse.

  “No. I won’t leave. I can’t,” I stated firmly. When it came to Alice, you always needed to make things clear. She had a way of sulking to try and get her own way, but you had to be cruel to be kind. As child-like as she was, she couldn’t manipulate me. Not this time. Not now.

  “Are you going to stop your crusade?” she said, scowling at me. “You do know it’s a kamikaze mission you’re on? I want to see him pay for what he did, but I don’t think that’s a choice we can make. Not in this lifetime. Neither one of us has the strength left in us to take him on. Who wants to fight the devil when they’ve been broken down so much by him, time and time again? Haven’t you learnt yet? He always wins.” He wouldn’t this time. “We have to create our own victories. And getting as far away from this place is the biggest one we could make.”

  “For you maybe, not me. I’ll never give up.”

  Her head snapped up and her eyes blazed with fury.

  “I’m not giving up.”

  “I didn’t mean that.” I sighed. “I’d never call you a quitter.” Alice was one of the strongest people I knew. She had her faults, but she was one of life’s warriors. She’d fought the hardest wars that anyone could ever face; a war within her own mind every single day, just to survive.

  “I’m choosing my battles. Making a stand for me. Giving myself a better shot at life. I’m still gonna leave, even if you refuse to follow me.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, giving herself a hug for support.

  “Good for you. I’ll help you make the break in any way I can, but I won’t follow you. This is wh
ere I belong. I’ll trust your judgement on this Danya girl. If you think she’s worth it, then I’ll stand by you on that. I know you don’t trust people easily, so she must be the real deal.”

  “She is.” Alice nodded to herself in agreement. “Do you really believe Sandland is the best place for you after everything that’s happened here? No one helped us. Ever.”

  “We didn’t shout loud enough,” I said, feeling the weight of regret pinning me down.

  “We shouldn’t have had to shout at all. Our word should have been enough, but it never was, was it? Mum and Dad ignored us. School turned a blind eye. They all did.”

  For Alice, it was black and white, but I saw the grey in-between. I could have done more to make them see. I could have saved us.

  “Not all of them turned a blind eye.” I’d never told Alice that Brandon knew, but I’m sure she’d guessed. She knew how close we were.

  “You were lucky. You made friends. Good friends. I didn’t. Well, not until now, anyway. Danya is everything.”

  Her eyes glazed over as she thought about the girl she was hell-bent on running to. And who was I to stop her? If my sister could make a grab for a little bit of happiness with Danya, what sort of a brother would I be if I stood in her way?

  “I don’t want this to be how it ends.” I knew my words sounded melodramatic, but I couldn’t help it.

  “This isn’t the end. It’s a new start. A fresh start.” Alice gave a low smile and I returned it. Knowing my sister would be out of his grasp was some comfort. It would certainly make my vengeance easier if I had one less person to worry about.

  “I’ll come and visit you, as often as I can.” I might have to go in disguise in the dead of night to avoid the soldiers, but if that was the only way, so be it.

  “I’ll count on it.” She grinned and stood, looking torn between staying and hugging me and running as fast and as far away as she could from everything that’d chained her to her misery.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Well, seeing as you’re not coming with me… There’s no time like the present. Danya has a room made up ready.” I’d already guessed that’d be her answer.

  “And you thought you’d drop by with my favourite breakfast for one last goodbye?” I prised open the bag, hoping the contents hadn’t gone completely cold.

  “Oh, I didn’t buy that. One of the nurses was on her way in with it and she gave it to me. It must’ve been left at the reception.” She shrugged and I thought nothing of it.

  “It’s probably from Brandon, or one of the others.” It was definitely something they’d do. They knew hospital food sucked balls.

  “You’ve got good friends, Finn. Don’t let him ruin what you have. Leave him be, and hopefully, when he isn’t getting the attention he wants, he’ll disappear back into the sewers he came from. He’s nothing. He doesn’t even deserve your anger. We’ve both wasted enough of our lives being ruled by him. It has to stop. Promise me, it’ll stop.”

  It wouldn’t.

  “I’ll try my best.”

  Alice seemed convinced by my answer and leant down to give me a hug as I lay there. I tried not to let on that her gentle squeeze hurt like hell, and plastered on my fake smile. In a way, Alice leaving was a weight lifted off my shoulders. If she was safe with Danya, then I could focus on stepping up my plan. I liked the idea of being a lone wolf. I had a pack, but I wanted to do this my way. If I had nothing, then I’d have nothing to lose.

  I watched as Alice walked away, closing the door quietly behind her, and then I peered down into the bag to find a folded note on top of the breakfast inside. I took it out, expecting to see some ridiculous joke or photograph. When I read what was written, my whole body plunged into a free-fall of violently fuelled adrenaline.

  I chose your favourite breakfast. Isn’t that what they do on death row? Feed you up before your final curtain call. Enjoy your last meal, because when you get out, I’ll be waiting. ~Tony

  The minute I could get out of that hospital, I did. The doctors and nurses put me off for days, and to be fair, I wasn’t in the best shape to get out of bed and walk away. But as soon as I could, I left. Signed myself out and took the pain meds they gave me, even though I had no intention of ever taking them. I wanted to feel every ache, twinge, and sting, because then I wouldn’t waver from the path I needed to take.

  He hadn’t sent me anymore messages since the fucked-up breakfast, but I knew he’d be watching. He couldn’t help himself. In a way, I hoped he was. If his eyes were on me, then maybe he wouldn’t notice Alice slipping away. If I could be that distraction for her, I’d be happy. At least in some way I’d have done what I’d always promised to do; help and protect her at all costs.

  I hadn’t even been home a day and my parents were already getting on my last nerve. I hated this shitty council terrace house. It was rotting from the inside out, and it wasn’t just the mildew and rising damp that was the problem. Nothing good had ever happened here. Nothing worth a damn ever resided here, not even us. But God help anyone if they peered beneath the cracks of our doomed existence. Our life was like a Monet painting; best viewed from afar.

  My mum currently felt the incessant need to drone on about how proud she was of Alice for moving out, never stopping to think why she’d left late at night with two overstuffed holdalls and nothing but the change in her pocket. I knew my mum’s not-so-subtle digs were aimed at me and the fact that I still lived under their roof. I didn’t want to, and it was at the top of my to-do list to find a sofa I could crash on, or a park bench maybe? We lived in the crappiest part of Sandland, but she’d still berated me the minute I left the hospital and came home. Apparently, my getting beaten up had brought shame to her door. Her shining reputation and what the neighbours thought took precedence over what I actually felt. Funny, because when her brother went down for armed robbery, she didn’t blast him. No. That mantle was solely reserved for me.

  Did I care?

  Not one fucking bit.

  As for my dad, he was either shadowing Mum around the house, waiting for her to give him guidance on what he should do next, or polishing his pointless, prized fishing trophies. The single thing he loved most in the world, apart from Mum. He was obsessed with fishing, but he’d never taken me. He said it was his chance to get some peace, why would he want to invite the craziness along to join him? The pair of them irritated me beyond belief, but they didn’t notice. They never did. My parents were too wrapped up in their own world to ever care what happened in anyone else’s, especially their children’s.

  I don’t know why they ever had kids. We never did the things that normal families do. We didn’t have days out or go to swimming lessons. They never came to any school events, plays, or parent’s evenings. Don’t get me wrong, they loved each other, but there wasn’t room for anyone else in their lives, even us. We were the product of their relationship, and yet, we were always the outsiders. It was always them and us. Or rather, them with Uncle Tony, and us.

  He was my mum’s brother. A constant in our house since I was five years old, and my parents thought the sun shone out of him. He bought them bottles of beer and wine most nights. Plied them with free cigarettes, and on the odd occasion he could get it, a joint to really knock them out. He kept them up into the small hours, joking and laughing until they fell into bed in a stoned or drunken stupor. They didn’t realise he did that for a reason. They were both so pissed-up, they didn’t hear a thing that went on after the lights went out, or was it that they just didn’t care?

  One particular day, just before he was put away for armed robbery, it looked like the tide might be turning for Uncle Tony and his little arrangement. Dad had noticed bruises on Alice’s legs. She usually hid them pretty well, but on this day, Dad saw. He confronted Tony, said Alice appeared nervous, scared even, and had said he was the one to give her the bruises. He wanted to know exactly how it’d happened, and I sat in the corner of the living room, praying he wouldn’t find a reason to wriggle
his way out of this one.

  We’d tried a few times to tell them how Tony hurt us, but their minds blocked out what we were really saying. They obviously wanted to believe it was all made up to get attention, or simply a heavy hand to two children who, funnily enough, wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Not once did they listen, truly listen, and hear the desperation when Alice or I tried to tell them. Our subtle clues only hinted at what went on, because in all honesty, we were too scared to say it out loud. It was too much to put into words, so you can imagine how horrific it was to live it day-in, day-out.

  “She’s always been clumsy. Can’t go a day without breaking something or tripping over. Look at her now, all jumpy…” Tony gestured to where Alice stood quaking in the corner, opposite where I sat. Of course she was skittish, she didn’t know when he’d strike next.

  “Those aren’t bruises from falling over, they’re finger marks. I can see––”

  “You see what you want to see,” Tony snapped, cutting Dad off. “Did she tell you what happened? If it wasn’t for me, it’d be a lot worse. I caught her outside, climbing the ladder. Stupid cow was about to fall and break her bloody neck. Yes, I grabbed her, and maybe a little too hard around the thighs, but it was only ‘cos I was stopping her from landing on the concrete and spending the rest of her life in a wheelchair. Isn’t that right, love?”

  I stayed in the armchair, watching as Uncle Tony’s eyes turned to steel behind my dad’s back and he dared Alice to try and challenge him.

  “You said he hurt you.” Dad turned the interrogation back to Alice, but not in a concerned, fatherly way. His words were like darts, pinning her to the wall and shredding her will to fight into tatters. “Is this another one of your sick jokes? You can’t go around accusing men of things like that, Alice. He hurt you for a reason. I’ve a good mind to give you the belt myself for causing trouble like this. You should be thanking your uncle, not making up stories.”