The roads were quiet, but my mind was not, so I took a detour through the park and headed to the underpass where I’d painted my Effy masterpiece all those months ago. I ducked through the bushes that were growing wild and made my way to the secluded spot, away from prying eyes and listening ears. Leaning against the wall opposite, I grinned to myself when I looked at her. It was a pretty good likeness even if I did say so myself. And then, I ducked my head down and took my phone out of my pocket. From heaven to hell in a matter of seconds.
I opened their text and clicked the video link. It was the same as before, grainy footage taken in the warehouse. The lighting was dimmer this time, but I could still see my uncle slouched forward on the chair he was tied to. His fingers, or rather, the place where his fingers used to be, were a bloody gruesome mess, and he sounded like a wounded animal, crying and groaning in pain.
I turned the volume up, hoping to hear something from the soldiers or some clue as to where they were keeping him, but I couldn’t make anything out. The camera panned across his face, his body and then moved back to show the full view of him sitting down again. I heard banging next, which made me flinch slightly with how loud the volume on my phone was turned up. A soldier came into view holding a steel baseball bat. This guy had a black and white bandana tied across his face. It wasn’t Adam Noble or Colton King, that much I could tell, but I had no idea who this one was.
He started to laugh like a freak and just stood there, to the side of Tony, looking down at him like this was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. Then he put both hands on his bat and lifted it up, swung it back down and bang, he smashed it into Tony’s legs. Tony cried out and threw his head back in agony. But this guy didn’t let up, he kept going, lifting his bat up and swinging it back down on his knees with so much force I thought the bat would break in two. Tony’s legs jolted at first on every impact, but eventually that stopped, and he sat there limp and pathetic as the soldier smashed his kneecaps into dust.
When the guy had had enough, he threw his bat onto the floor and grabbed a fistful of Tony’s hair, yanking his head forward to face the camera.
“No more running from the police for you,” the guy said in a sing-song voice, toying with my uncle. “You’ll never be able to run away from the filth that you are ever again.” He pushed my uncle’s head back and then wiped his hands on his jeans with a hint of disgust. I held my breath as he walked with a confident swagger towards the camera, staring right into the screen like a psycho, then gave me the peace sign.
And then it cut out.
This wasn’t over yet.
My uncle was still alive, still breathing air into his rancid, vile body.
I needed it to be over. For me. I didn’t give a shit what they did to him, but I was tired of this. Tired of the constant panic that he might escape. Or that they’d kill him and still spread his vicious legacy wherever they could. Would I ever be free of this nightmare that he’d dragged me into all those years ago?
My skin prickled with revulsion and I felt vulnerable and exposed, even though I was hiding under this underpass. I had to get away. Having her looking down on me while I thought about what he’d done made me want to throw up. So I ran out, sprinting my way back through the park, and when my phone rang again, and I saw it was Ryan, I answered.
“Dude, why are you ghosting me?” He sounded pissed off, but I didn’t give a shit.
“I wasn’t. I was with Effy.” I panted, breathlessly. Not that I felt the need to justify myself. I was tense, antsy, and I had to take it out on someone, right?
“Cool. I’ll let you off this time. Em told me you and Eff are official now.” News certainly travelled fast. To be honest, I was glad he was chilled out and hadn’t picked up on my anxiety. “Are you free to come with us to scope out this factory then or what? It was your idea.”
I froze, not really loving the idea of crossing over into Brinton Manor after everything I’d just seen, but I didn’t want to raise any suspicions. Not now. There was too much at stake.
“I’m ready when you are.”
“Be at Zak’s in ten minutes or we’re leaving without you.” Ryan was back to his matter-of-fact, curt responses.
I heard some sort of commotion down the phone, like he’d dropped it, but then Brandon’s voice came through and I knew he’d grabbed it off Ryan to say his piece.
“Get here when you can. We aren’t going there without you. Ignore the grumpy fucker. I think Emily’s on her period or something. He’s in a foul mood.”
I laughed at Brandon’s remark. He always had this uncanny knack of pulling me out of my slump.
“Fuck you,” Ryan said in the background just as the phone cut off.
I sighed and stuffed my phone into my back pocket. Being a part of so many different worlds was getting exhausting, but my fate was already sealed. I’d played their game, and as it stated in the title, there were consequences. Mine being that I would forever be plagued by Brinton Manor and the devils that inhabited it until the day I took my final challenge. Whatever and whenever that would be.
Thirty minutes later, I was in the back of Ryan’s car with Zak. Brandon sat in the front, and despite the chatter about football and cars, there was still a sense of tension in the atmosphere.
Or maybe that was just me?
I was finding it hard to separate all the factors of my life. Juggling so many balls and spinning plates was becoming difficult to maintain. I’d spent my whole life compartmentalising everything and putting on a show for the appropriate audience, so they wouldn’t see the cracks beneath the surface. But those cracks were widening, and I had no control over it. The only constant and positive thing I had right now was Effy and my friends. I didn’t want to fuck any of that up.
“It’s looking good for the auction coming up,” Ryan announced.
“What auction?” Brandon shot back.
“The one to buy Sandland Asylum. It’s being held in a few weeks’ time, dumbass.” I saw Ryan giving Brandon the side eye. “Emily has a lot of collateral to put forward, and her Gran has offered up some of the money too. I think she feels guilty for being a useless piece of shit after all the crap that went down with Em’s parents.”
“I’m happy for you.” I don’t think Brandon could’ve sounded more unenthusiastic even if he tried, and the way he stared blankly out of the window only highlighted the fact that he had absolutely no interest whatsoever. “We’ll all come and visit once you start up your new business.”
“Our business,” Ryan bit back. “I don’t care who invests what; money, time, it’s all the same to me. We work together or we don’t work at all. I’m doing this for us.”
Brandon turned to look at him, furrowing his brow in confusion. “You want us all to be equal partners, even if we don’t contribute the same amount of cash?”
“Yes. Partners being the operative word. Me and Emily, you and Harper, Finn and Effy, and Zak and whatever flavour of the month he wants to bring to the table.”
Zak folded his arms over his chest and laughed. Brandon nodded his head in affirmation and went back to staring out the window. And I took a long, deep breath. The fact that he’d acknowledged that there was an Effy and me made me tingle with pride. It felt good to be part of our team.
“You’re a good man, Hardy. Shit taste in music though,” Brandon joked, flicking the radio from Taylor Swift to fill the car with a bit of Shinedown and bobbing his head in time to the beat.
I held the arm of the car door as Ryan took a corner a little too fast and we entered the main street into Brinton Manor. My recent graffiti with the five skulls stood out like a beacon as we drove down that road, and I saw Ryan slap the side of Brandon’s leg and nod over to it. Neither one of them said a word, but Brandon turned in his seat to look at me. He knew that was my work, and judging by the way he narrowed his eyes, he knew there was more to this party and the location of it than I’d let on. I swallowed nervously and braced myself to answer his questions, but he didn�
�t speak, just turned back around and folded his arms. He’d got the disappointed father act down to a tee already and I hung my head, suddenly feeling ashamed.
We raced through the empty streets, all looking out the windows at the derelict buildings and dirty pavements of a broken town.
“Do you think people are actually gonna come here, to this party? This place is a right crap hole.” Zak screwed his nose up in disgust and sat back in his seat.
“They’ll show up anywhere if we tell them to. It’s gonna be fucking awesome,” Brandon replied, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of us.
The car started to bump us around as Ryan pulled off the road and into the uneven car park of the plastics factory. He parked up right by the entrance and shut the engine off, peering up and out of the front windscreen at the building ahead.
“It’s certainly big enough,” he said, then turned to face me. “Are we gonna have trouble filling this thing?”
“No. It looks big, but once you get inside, you’ll see how perfect it is. There’s a main entrance where we can set up all the security checks. That leads onto a larger hall where Zak can do his stuff. The rest of the rooms can be opened or cordoned off depending on how much of it we want to use. It’s pretty safe in there too. No dodgy flooring or anything like that.”
I had done my homework. This was the best that Brinton had to offer. There’d be a lot less work setting up this place than we’d done in previous venues.
“Let’s take a look then,” Brandon announced, opening his door and stepping out.
We all followed him, slamming our car doors shut and picking our way across the rubble. The front gate leading into the factory was held closed by a chain and a broken padlock. It’d been like that when I’d first come here myself, and I guessed that the iffy security was the work of the soldiers. They probably used it as a base for whatever the fuck it was they did when they weren’t screwing with me or torturing my uncle. It had crossed my mind that they might have been keeping him here, but I searched all over and they weren’t. This place was clean. Well, as clean as a forgotten rundown factory could be in this area.
Ryan entered the building first, and when he pushed the doors open, the birds that’d taken up residence inside started to flap around wildly. It wasn’t as damp in here as the waterworks we’d used previously, but there was still a musty, earthy smell about the place that made us cover our noses until we grew accustomed to it. The walls were sturdy enough and the opportunity to create my art here was one of the positives. I’d found another blank canvas, a new gallery to showcase my work. Every cloud and all that.
The lads nodded their approval and we wandered around checking windows were boarded up securely and that any fixtures weren’t a hazard. Then, when we entered the main hall, I heard them gasp and whistle.
“This is fucking amazing, Finn. You did good.” Ryan glanced up at the high glass ceiling that was surprisingly still intact and he spun in a circle, clearly in awe of the place.
“There’s an anti-hall just to the left there, but I’m not sure whether we’ll use it because of the staircases and landings around it. It kind of looks like a Victorian prison to be honest.”
There were about three levels to that hall, and each one had a walkway running the perimeter of the room, with wrought iron railings painted white, making it look like Broadmoor. But when we walked in to have a look, Brandon’s eyes grew wide in wonder.
“This is perfect for the fight.” He pointed to the different levels. “The crowd stand up there and everyone gets a ringside seat. The further up you go, the better view you get. I’m having this,” he stated, crossing his arms over his chest proudly. “My fighters are gonna love it.”
“Are Callum and Joe still up for it?” Ryan asked, referring to the boxers Brandon had lined up for the night.
“Yep. Got a few other lads that want in too. I’m thinking it’ll be a few matches that night. It’s gonna be a top night.”
Everything was coming together. The boys were happy. The venue was perfect. And I’d passed my second challenge with flying colours and come out the other side smelling of roses growing amongst all the shit.
Or so I thought.
The other three wandered off to check out the rest of the factory, but when my phone started to buzz and I saw why, I stayed back. The nerves kicked in again and my stomach turned over as I opened the message.
Challenge time, Mr Knowles. Are you ready?
A close friend of ours, Joe Hazel, is signed up to fight at your little party. Your next challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to get your man, Brandon, to fight against him.
No Brandon.
No deal.
And your little secret goes viral.
Now, you may be asking yourself, why not bite the bullet? Call our bluff and see if we have the guts to go through with it? I suggest you don’t do that. I’m sending you a little video that might help to persuade you on this. If we get confirmation of Brandon fighting by midnight on Friday then you’re safe. Nothing, and we will fucking destroy your life.
I was shaking so badly it was difficult to tap my screen and see what they’d sent. When I clicked it open, I almost lost it completely. I felt the bottom fall out of my world.
There was video footage of me that I knew had been taken today because I was wearing the exact same clothes. That, and I was coming out of Effy’s front door. I gripped my mobile in my sweaty hand as I watched her close the front door, and saw myself walk away down the street. But whoever was recording didn’t walk away, they started walking forwards, down her driveway, up the side of her house, and then they were videoing her through the window. I watched them watching her making herself a cup of coffee. After a few seconds of watching and feeling like I was dying inside, I saw the camera pan down to the door handle leading into her kitchen, and a gloved hand pushed it down and the door opened. The video stopped, and so did my fucking heart. They’d got to Effy, and whoever was videoing her had broken into her fucking house.
I didn’t bother to read their next message. Frantically, I scrolled to her number and felt every beat of my heart thumping against my chest as the dial tone sounded in my ear.
“Hey, Finn. Are you missing me already?” She sounded so playful, but it did nothing to calm my raging mind. There would be no relief, not until I knew she was safe.
“Where are you?” I snapped a little too harshly.
“I’m at home. Why? What’s happened?” Instantly, her playfulness had gone and in its place was suspicion.
“Is there anyone with you?”
Please tell me you’re safe. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.
“Mum and Dad just came home with a Chinese takeaway. What the hell is going on?”
“So you’re safe? Your dad’s there?”
“Yes, but now I’m worried sick about you. Are you okay?” I wasn’t. I was a nervous, erratic mess and I couldn’t even think straight let alone form words that made sense.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Listen, I need you to go to your back door. The one opposite the island in your kitchen and lock the bloody thing.” It was on the tip of my tongue to have a go at her over that fact that it was ever open in the first place.
“Okay. Wait. How do you know where my back door is? You’ve never been in my kitchen. And how do you know it’s open?”
“Jesus, Effy. I don’t have time for this. Just do it. Please.”
I heard her breathing down the line as she walked from wherever she was to the kitchen and then she said, “Done. I’ve locked it.”
“Do you always leave the back door open?” My resolve to not accuse her of shit had broken pretty fucking quickly. I knew she lived in a nicer part of Sandland, but who the fuck leaves their doors unlocked in this day and age?
“I leave it open when Luna needs to go outside to the garden. What the hell is this, Finn? You’re freaking me out.”
I was freaking myself out.
“Are you su
re no one got in? Are you absolutely sure you’re safe?”
“Yes. If anyone had got in the CCTV would have picked it up.”
Bingo.
“You have CCTV?”
“Yes. Dad had it installed ages ago when all the stuff with the Lockwood’s cars getting trashed happened.”
“Where?”
“Where what?”
“Where are the cameras?” My instincts told me that if they were outside, the soldiers probably would’ve disabled them somehow. But I could always pray for a miracle. Maybe they weren’t as clever as they thought they were.
“One on the front door, one over the garage doors and one in the back garden,” she answered.
“Does it cover your kitchen door?”
“Well, no. It covers the patio doors, but Dad had internal cameras put in too. Only downstairs though, you don’t need to worry. Is that what this about? You coming over earlier? Are you worried Mum and Dad will have seen you?” Her naivety was endearing but it worried me to death. She wasn’t street-smart enough to deal with the kind of problems I had going on in my life.
“No. It’s me checking you’re safe.”
“Finn, if anyone tried to break in we’d know about it. The kitchen sensor picks up any movement. I’m fine. Stop worrying.”
Something wasn’t adding up.
“And the sensors didn’t pick anything up after I left you?”
“Well, no. They weren’t switched on.”
“You’re fucking joking me? What about the CCTV outside?”
“I switched that off too.”
Un-fucking-believable. I threw my head back and let out a frustrated growl.
“Jesus Christ, Eff. What’s the point in having security if you don’t use it?”
“I switched it off because I was at home and it’s daytime. What the hell do you think is going to happen?” She was getting pissed off, I could tell by the way her tone of voice was getting higher and higher, but I was pissed off too. I couldn’t understand why she saw the issue of her own safety as such a hassle. An inconvenience. I’d thought everybody lived on high alert, forever on guard in case the worst should happen. Evil didn’t always wait until it was dark to strike.
Fractured Minds (Rebels of Sandland Book 3) Page 15