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The Wild

Page 1

by K. Webster




  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Warning

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  Books by K Webster

  Acknowledgements

  About Author K Webster

  The Wild

  Copyright © 2017 K. Webster

  Cover Design: All By Design

  Photo: Adobe Stock

  Editor: ellie at Love N. Books

  Formatting: Champagne Formats

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Warning

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  Books by K Webster

  Acknowledgements

  About Author K Webster

  * * *

  * * *

  To my husband…I believe in happy endings because of you.

  “She had a wild, wandering soul

  but when she loved, she loved with chaos and that made all the difference.”

  —Ariana Dancu

  Warning:

  The Wild is an extremely taboo story. Most will find that the themes in this book will make you incredibly uncomfortable or maybe even offend you. This book is only for the brave, the open-minded, and the ones who crave love in even the most dismal of situations. Extreme sexual themes and violence in certain scenes, which could trigger emotional distress, are found in this story. If you are sensitive to heavy taboo themes, then this story is not for you.

  Seriously, you’ve been warned.

  Don’t say I didn’t try.

  You’re probably going to cringe many, many, many times.

  Even if you’re on the fence, it’s probably not a good idea to proceed.

  However, if you’re intrigued and fearless and kind of sort of trust me, then carry on. This book is for you.

  * * *

  * * *

  Past

  Losing a child is inconceivable.

  Anyone with a child always has that worry playing continuously in the back of their mind. Each time they’re at the water park. Every time they buckle their kiddo into a car seat. All those times they send their little ones off to spend the night with a friend.

  Every second.

  Every day.

  Without fail.

  That fear lingers in the shadows of your mind like a monster just waiting to come out and devour everything you hold precious.

  Most of us don’t have to deal with such atrocities.

  The rest of us get to know firsthand what it’s like to watch them lower your heart into the earth. Too soon. Too fucking soon. We get to watch our spouse collapse in on themselves and choose darkness over the rest of the family members who are still here. All of us who do lose a child get to know how it feels to have every memory ripped from your chest and scattered into the wind. There will be no new memories—all you have left are the ones that quickly slip from your grip.

  “Daddy?”

  Her voice, so much like her twin brother, both soothes and crushes me. My wife and I lost our son. But Devon lost her brother. The other half of her soul. A human she shared the womb with. Those two worked as two halves of a whole. Always anticipating the other’s emotions and aiding them when they needed it. Siblings who, even at ten years old, didn’t fight in our home.

  They laughed.

  They sang.

  They played.

  They loved.

  “Daddy?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and long for more of the whiskey but it’s gone. Downed the entire fifth tonight. Nothing can numb the pain that sears through me though. Fucking nothing.

  “Yeah, Pip?”

  When she was a toddler, she used to seem to squeak compared to her loud, wild brother. I’d called him Rowdy because he was rambunctious as hell and her Pip for pipsqueak.

  Another throbbing ache in my chest.

  “I miss Drew.” Her tone is sad. Nothing but a whisper.

  I lean back in my office chair and regard my daughter. The only child I have left. For ten, she’s tall and lanky. Her wide blue eyes are innocent and full of soul. Lately they flicker with worry. Both of her parents have fallen off the deep end.

  “I do too, baby.” I pat my lap and she runs over to me like she would when she was small. When I pull her into an embrace, I inhale her hair. Same shampoo Drew used. An obnoxious, ugly sob rips from my throat. “I-I’m s-so sorry,” I choke out, my hot tears falling relentlessly down my cheeks.

  She sniffles and I hold her tighter. The counselor says we need to be strong for our remaining child. Sabrina can’t get her goddamned ass out of bed. It’s up to me to pick our family up and glue it back together.

  Sometimes I wonder if we’re too broken.

  Unfixable.

  Lost.

  “Did Mommy love Drew more? Is that why she’s so sad and won’t talk to me?” Devon’s voice cracks with emotion. She’s heartbroken for so many reasons. Losing her brother and mother essentially at the same exact moment has to be hard on her. It’s devastating to me and I’m a grown-ass man.

  “Of course she loves you just as much,” I say fiercely. I stroke her satin blonde hair. “We just need to give her time. She’s sad. We’re all sad. Each of us will grieve in our own ways.”

  “Promise you’ll always talk to me, Daddy,” she begs tearfully. “Even when you’re so sad or angry. Don’t leave me alone.”

  More tears roll out of my eyes and soak her hair. I cry so hard that I can’t formulate words. All I can do is nod. Kiss her head and nod. She holds out her pinky and I hook mine with hers.

  A pinky promise is what she calls this.

  I vow to talk to her and love her even during the darkest of times.
Although, I’m not really sure how life can get any darker than this.

  You could lose your other child, the dark, menacing monster in my head growls.

  I squeeze her tighter.

  Nod.

  Kiss.

  Nod again.

  “I promise.” My words are a faint whisper but she hears. She always hears.

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  Nod.

  Kiss.

  Nod again.

  “I love you too, Pip.”

  I’ll be goddamned if I let anything happen to this kid too.

  That’s a promise I make to the ugly monster inside of me and force him back into the shadows where he belongs.

  * * *

  * * *

  Present

  Sabrina stares out the window, her features hard behind her oversized sunglasses and too much makeup. I squeeze her hand but she doesn’t squeeze back. Six years after Drew’s death and my wife has yet to snap out of it. Depression is her middle name. Losing Drew was the final straw after years and years of tragedies that plagued our family. There was no coming back after that. She was lost. For me, losing Drew, was the most crushing of all the heartaches in my life. It was real. Tangible. Horrifying. And yet I couldn’t abandon our other child. She was still alive and very desperate for love.

  Devon and I had to keep on living while Sabrina got to live in the past. With him. Obsessed over the memories they shared. Suspended in a time that doesn’t exist anymore.

  This move is my last-ditch effort to bring her back to us.

  A Hail Mary.

  My last hope for a miracle.

  “According to data compiled by the Wildlife Land and Water Coalition, people are forty-five times more likely to be killed by a dog than by a bear, one hundred and twenty times more likely to be killed by bees than a bear, and an incredible two hundred and fifty times more likely to be killed by lightning than a bear,” Devon chirps from behind me, her long skinny leg stretched out to nudge me in the arm to get my attention.

  Our eyes meet in the mirror and I laugh. This girl and her useless facts. “Too bad we stocked up on bear spray then, huh?” I tease.

  Her eyes are hidden behind her sunglasses that are similar to her mother’s but her smile is wide and carefree. At sixteen, she’s brilliant and full of life. “How many bears you think we’ll see, Dad? One a month? Two a month? One a week?”

  Sabrina tenses from her seat. She was cool with every part of this move. The bears have her scared shitless though. I vowed I wouldn’t let her get killed by a bear.

  “A buddy of mine who did a sabbatical in the Alaskan wilderness said he saw several a day. They’re plentiful in these parts.” I grin at her in the mirror. “But that’s why God made guns.”

  “Dad!” Devon complains. “Don’t shoot any bears.”

  I shrug. “Not a promise I can make, Pip. If it comes between a bear living to catch another fish tomorrow or my baby girl remaining unharmed, you better believe I’m going to kill that bear.”

  At this, Sabrina snorts. “Okay, Davey Crockett.”

  Devon giggles from the back and passes her mother a brochure she picked up at the last gas station before we began the hard leg of our journey. “Look at the map, Mom. Bear Country is what they call it. Five bucks says Dad tries to carpet the house with bearskin rugs.”

  Sabrina takes the brochure and stares at it. Her lips are pressed into a firm line. I’m sure she’s coming to terms with reality right about now. In another six hours or so, we’ll be right in the middle of our property. I liquidated every dime of my multimillion dollar global real estate company and purchased thousands of acres deep in the Alaskan wilderness.

  After a humiliating episode between my wife and a woman at one of California’s most elite country clubs we were a member of, I knew we had to do something drastic. Sabrina had taken to slapping a woman because she didn’t like how the woman was talking to her son. It was the meltdown of the century. Screaming. Crying. Cursing. Sabrina had to be escorted off the property and we were banned from the club for life. To make matters worse, with social media being a bitch, her psychotic rage was filmed by dozens of others at the club. It spread through the internet like a goddamned forest fire, burning our family’s hard-earned reputation in its wake.

  I moved fast.

  Instead of watching developers and buyers walk away from Jamison Enterprises, I began liquidating and selling. It took nearly a year, and that long to plan, but we’re finally ready to move on with our lives.

  Just the three of us.

  Off the grid.

  Like those crazy bush people, as Devon likes to tease.

  When I mentioned it to my wife and daughter, I’d expected resistance. I should have known Devon would be on board first. We spoke with her teachers at her all-girls private school and they let her double up her studies so she could graduate from high school early. My daughter, brilliant as the sun’s rays, crushed her sophomore year which ultimately also became her senior year.

  Sabrina was a little harder to convince. She couldn’t see my vision. Despite the blueprints I’d drawn up of a cozy log cabin and ideas for collecting water and planting crops, she was confused. Her life was our million-dollar home in San Francisco. Her life was nothing but pictures and things that belonged to our son.

  But I did convince her.

  Told her she could bring those memories with her.

  That Drew would have loved the wilderness. Our son was adventure on top of adventure. A true wild one.

  She said yes and here we are.

  Hours along a dirt road lined with thick trees toward the place we’ll make a home. The trailer we’re pulling is full of tools we’ll need. We’ll stay in the RV I purchased until I get the cabin built. Together, as a family, we’ll build new memories. We’ll make a life where we can be happy and free of the stresses of the outside world.

  Me being an orphan, I have no family that would care. And we promised Sabrina’s snobby parents that we’d come down to California once a year to visit. Other than that, we’re free.

  “University of Alaska has a high suicide rate among their students,” Devon blurts out. More useless information. “Looks like college is out of the question.”

  I shake my head. “Two years and then you’re going. You promised. That was one of the caveats,” I remind her.

  Our Siberian huskie, Buddy, barks as if in protest. Six months after we lost Drew, I brought her home that dog. It didn’t replace her brother but it gave her a playmate.

  She pops her gum and laughs. “Can’t blame a girl for trying, Dad. What can college teach me that I don’t already know?”

  “Manners,” I grunt.

  This gets a chuckle from Sabrina. “Maybe how to get a boyfriend.”

  “No. Boys. Ever,” I say in a dramatic tone that earns me a huff from behind me.

  “Whatever, Dad.”

  “Just being real, Pip.”

  She snorts. “Don’t try to be hip. You’re not hip.”

  “She’s right,” Sabrina says, a smile lighting up her pretty face. “You’re not hip. You’re old.”

  “Well, while you’ve been getting massages,” I say and point at Sabrina. “And while you were taking Snapchat selfies,” I say and jerk my head toward Devon. “I was taking the survivalist classes. I chopped all that damn wood for practice too. I may not be hip but I’m basically a god. God of the Great Unknown.”

  Both my girls laugh and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest.

  This is exactly what we needed.

  “Where’s your mom?” I ask as I step into the RV. Buddy trots in behind me and walks right up to Devon to give her a wet kiss.

  After wiping her cheek, Devon looks up from a book and frowns. “Headache.”

  I roll my eyes. Anytime Sabrina is depressed, she plays it off as a headache. She knows I won’t argue it and she can sleep in peace. “It’ll be dark soon. Want to explore, Pip?”

  She tosses her book down and grins.
“Let me grab my hiking boots.”

  Once she dresses and pulls on a hoodie, I grab my rifle and together we set out on an exploration. We’re another three or four hours from our destination I mapped out but I didn’t want to chance driving the RV and pulling the trailer in the dark. The farther we get inside the dense forest, the harder it will be to travel. According to the previous owner of the land, Atticus Knox, I know that at the end of the road is a small clearing that overlooks a gorge where a fresh water river runs through it. I’d fallen in love with the pictures he emailed me and paid the hefty sum. He assured me that the area was unpopulated. No people for hundreds of miles. Secluded as fuck. Exactly what I was hoping for. Since we were traveling out of state, I negotiated for him to leave some equipment I’d purchased from him. When we get there, I can essentially start working on our dream home right away.

  Devon squats to inspect a plant and I notice a bush with many berries. Her dog sniffs around and his ears perk up when he hears a sound beyond the trees.

  “Look,” I tell her with a grin as I step through some brush to reach the bush. “Berries.”

  “Dad! No!”

  Buddy barks as if to yell at me too.

  I jerk my hand back and frown. “What?”

  “Baneberries. Those are poisonous. We don’t need you going into cardiac arrest.” She stands and makes a motion with her hands. “Step away from the white berries if you want to live.”

  I laugh but wisely step away. Apparently more than useless information rattles around in that brain of hers. “Okay, so which ones can we eat, Pip?”

  She trudges along a few hundred feet and stops before a bush with red berries. “These aren’t ripe yet, but they’re safe. Promise me you won’t eat anything without asking me first?”

  I hold my hands up in defense. “Promise.”

  She sticks out her pinky and her lips quirk into a sweet smile I remember from her when she was a kid. I hook my pinky with hers.

 

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