New Title 1

by Cano, Dawn

  Final Review

  by

  Dawn Cano

  and

  John Ledger

  Copyright © Dawn Cano and John Ledger 2016

  Cover art copyright © James Woolford

  Published: Dawn Cano and John Ledger

  Publisher: Dawn Cano and John Ledger

  The right of Dawn Cano and John Ledger to be identified as authors of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement or the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  ‘Final Review’ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Journal Entry 32

  I always try to keep my entries happy and upbeat. Today, however, I bring something far darker and more negative to the pages of my little journal.

  I released Blood Sins early last year, and it received rave reviews as it climbed to the Number 2 spot on the Amazon charts. People called it “exciting,” “original,” and “clever” and it has more than one hundred 5-star reviews. Readers begged for more, and I wanted to ride on that success so I immediately wrote the sequel, Blood Lust, which wasn't so well-received and averages a 3.8-star rating. I followed it up with the final book in the trilogy, Blood Promise, which I released in November of last year and the reviews for that were even worse.

  Oddly enough, my second and third stories were the ones I was most proud of until reviewers and readers started calling them, “boring,” “old news” and “unrealistic.” Needless to say, when the bad reviews started rolling in, I was heartbroken and more than a little angry, and the last thing I wanted was to become a one-hit wonder. I began doubting my writing ability and responding to the bad reviews, trying to make my case and make people understand why I wrote the things I did, but soon, those who read my books began arguing with me. I received messages like, “Quit while you're ahead,” and “Give it up.” I became discouraged and depressed, and one night last week, it became too much so I discussed it with my boyfriend. I've written about Wade before. He's “unstable,” but he has my heart.

  Wade is a gorgeous man, standing 6' 2”, with dark brown hair and beautiful green eyes. He's way too thin because he battles drug and alcohol addiction, and I have vowed to be there for him, whenever he needs me. He's been clean for almost two months, and I couldn't be more proud, but throughout his recovery, I've noticed a change in his moods. I'm not sure how to describe it other than to say he's more brooding and his temper is far easier to ignite than it was when he was using and drinking every day. I've gotten good at knowing what might set him off, and he's never taken his anger out on me, but the conversation we had regarding my reviews and the seemingly imminent death of my career took a turn even I wasn't expecting. I began the conversation the way I usually do when I want to discuss something serious. He was sitting on the couch watching some old comedy show when I asked, “Babe, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Wade stared at me, as if to decide if he wanted to get into a serious discussion, then muted the TV. “I guess. What's up?”

  “Remember how I told you that my last two books were getting shitty reviews?”

  “Yep, I remember, and I told you not to listen to them. Remember that? You shouldn't even be looking at those fucking reviews.”

  He was already getting angry, so I tried to diffuse the situation. “I know I shouldn't, but sometimes I can't help it. Every writer likes feedback, you know? Anyway, the reviews are getting worse. People are saying things like my stories are unrealistic and boring. I'm thinking of pulling the books and rewriting them, maybe...”

  Wade slammed his can of Coke down on the coffee table in front of him, obviously livid. “You will not rewrite those fucking books just because a few people don't know what the hell they're talking about. If they're stupid enough to think your stories are unrealistic, you'll just have to provide a little more realism, and I think I know just how to help you do that.”

  I asked him what he meant, but he ignored my question and went to bed.

  ***

  Wade woke up pissed off at the world. This was a feeling he’d become accustomed to over the past month or so, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it. His job at the Country Oven pissed him off daily, but he liked cooking, so he put up with all the bullshit. Plus, it wasn’t like he could afford not to work. Emma made a decent amount of money from her book royalties but not enough for them to live on, and Wade didn’t want to sponge off of her anyway.

  Wade knew he was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a user. Sure, he used drugs and he was a raging alcoholic, but he would never use Emma. That’s why he’d been clean for almost two months now and probably the only reason he wasn’t in jail, all because of her, the love of his life. Wade was no moron, he made a lot of bad decisions in his life, but he was confident that she wasn’t one of them. He realized he had a fucked up way of showing it sometimes, but he loved her more than anything, including himself.

  He thought about all of this as he made his way downstairs, and he was confident that he would die for Emma, if the need arose. He was absolutely positive he would kill for her if it ever became necessary. She belonged to him and nobody else, as far as he was concerned. His thoughts were confirmed even more so as he found her in the kitchen, drinking a glass of orange juice and reading a book. He stood and admired her beauty until she became aware of his presence, her long brown hair in pigtails and her big blue eyes wide open, absorbed in whatever horror novel it was.

  Wade noticed an immediate change in her face as she looked at him. She went from appearing content to instantly concerned; something was definitely wrong and he didn’t like it.

  “Good morning, honey,” she said too quickly as she stood up and put her book down on the table.

  “What’s wrong?” Wade replied, making his way to the fridge for a Coke. He really wanted a beer or a shot of whiskey, but caffeine would have to suffice.

  “Nothing’s wrong, baby...it’s just...something strange happened by accident this morning. It’s really no big deal, but I know you’ll be upset.”

  Wade sat down and nodded at the chair across from him as Emma immediately joined him at the table. “What happened?” He asked without making eye contact, as he was concentrating on opening his soda.

  “Okay, but don’t get mad at me. It was an accident.”

  “Do I ever get mad at you? No. What happened?”

  “Well, when I came downstairs this morning, I hopped on the computer to see if my books were going to be delivered today, and it said that they were. So I made my eggs and some toast and ate while I watched the news, and right about as I finished, I heard a quick knock at the door. I looked out the window and saw the UPS truck pulling away. I knew it was my books, so I opened the door to grab them, and well, there he was.”

  “There who was? The UPS guy?”

  “No, I told you the UPS guy drove away.”

  “Then what the fuck are you talking about, Emma?”

  “It was Mark. He was standing there with my package in his hand.”

  “Who the fuck is Mark?”


  “Our neighbor, the creepy guy next door you can’t stand.”

  “What the hell did he want?”

  “He came over to borrow a corkscrew.”

  “Okay? Who gives a shit? What’s the big deal about that, other than me not liking him?”

  “I was only in one of your shirts and my underwear. He handed me my books real quick and eyed me up and down, so I hid behind the door. He apologized and told me he was just looking to borrow a corkscrew. I told him I’d be right back and threw on some sweatpants and brought him the corkscrew.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “Well, I apologized for him seeing me like that and he said he liked what he saw and it was quite okay. I was creeped out, so I slammed the door. He can keep the fucking corkscrew.”

  “No, he can’t,” Wade replied as he stood up and headed back towards the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” Emma asked.

  “To get dressed.”

  “Then where are you going?”

  Wade stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned back around to face her. “I’m going to get the corkscrew back.”

  “No, baby, don’t worry about it. Let it go. I don’t want you getting into trouble.”

  “Trouble? That’s your problem. You want your stories to sell more, you want realism for your readers? Well I’m going to start teaching you how to live a little. But right now, I’m going to go live a little.”

  Wade marched up the stairs and Emma knew it was time to be quiet and let him go. She was scared, not afraid of him, but afraid of what he was going to do. She went and curled up on the couch with a book and waited for him to come to her.

  He didn’t come to her, though. Wade came back downstairs and went right out the front door. Emma jumped up to watch out the window, and she saw Wade walking next door to visit their creepy neighbor. Not wanting to miss anything, she pulled a small leather chair out of the corner and placed it in front of the window. Sitting down, she kept a vigil on the neighbor's house until she finally fell asleep.

  ***

  Journal Entry 33

  Living with Wade and his mood swings has taught me to be prepared for almost anything when it comes to him, but his behavior yesterday really surprised me. The old, creepy neighbor came to the door asking to borrow a corkscrew, and let's just say I answered the door less than dressed, thinking UPS had dropped off a bunch of books I had ordered. When he saw me, he became more creepy than usual and looked me over before finally averting his gaze.

  I told Wade about what had happened, and he lost it. He already hated the neighbor and after our conversation, he left the house, saying he was getting the corkscrew back. He was gone for a couple of hours and when he came back, he slammed the door, waking me up and I noticed him holding our corkscrew, sweating, and he had spots of blood on his shirt. I tried asking him what had happened, but he refused to talk to me, saying, “Don’t worry about it. I took care of things.” Then, he walked upstairs and got in the shower. I wanted answers so I waited for him on the bed.

  I'm not one to go into details about our sex life, but I feel this is important to write down. Usually, we have sex a couple of times a week and although it's really nothing to get excited about, he takes things slow and easy, which is usually fine with me. Last night was different.

  Wade got out of the shower and walked from the bathroom wearing a towel around his waist. I was lying in bed, on top of the covers, reading the latest Stephen King novel, not really paying attention to him, when he walked around to my side of the bed and ripped the book from my hands. He pushed me down on the bed and tore my clothes off before fucking me harder than I've ever been fucked before. He bit me, pulled my hair and at one point, I wondered if it was possible for him to twist my nipples off. The weirdest part of the whole encounter is that despite how sore I am today, I loved every minute of it.

  This morning I woke up, and my neighbor was the first thing that crossed my mind. Wade had to go to work early, so I got dressed, made some coffee, and stood at my living room window, staring at Mark's house. Usually, by this time of day, he'd be out tending his flowers, but today, he was nowhere to be seen. I decided to pay him a visit, so I slipped on a pair of shoes and made my way next door. His newspaper was still sitting in the driveway so I picked it up, walked up to his front door, and rang the doorbell. When he opened the door, I gasped.

  Mark's left eye was bruised and almost completely swollen shut. His bottom lip was cracked and oozed blood, and he wore a bandage on his right middle finger, which, now that I'm thinking about it, was shorter than it should have been. I stared at him with my mouth open as he spoke.

  “Look, I'm sorry. I...you...I'll never look at you in that way again. In fact, I'll never look at you in any way again. Just leave me alone!” With that, he slammed the door, not giving me a chance to say anything. I stood staring at the closed door before turning around and heading home.

  ***

  Wade left early for work in the morning, but only because he’d decided it was going to be a short day. He had other plans to tend to today besides making food for a bunch of old assholes. The moment he walked into the kitchen, his demeanor purposely changed to that of someone who had drank way too much the night before. Luckily, Wade had a great relationship with the kitchen manager and he knew he could tell him anything. Louie was aware of Wade’s recent soberness and totally understanding when Wade informed him that he’d fallen off the wagon last night.

  He told his boss he’d stick around as long as he could, making several fake trips to the bathroom where he was supposedly throwing up. After the third time, he informed Louie that he had to go, but not before grabbing one of his favorite kitchen knives and hiding it in his pants. He got to his truck and threw the knife into his book bag, which already contained a pair of handcuffs from home and some pot he’d been holding onto for a while. He originally purchased the handcuffs with the intent of having some fun with Emma, but today he had other plans for them. Wade had one more stop, and then he could continue with his mission.

  Falling off the wagon last night might have been a lie at the time, but it wouldn’t be for much longer. Wade could already taste the whiskey on his lips as he pulled into the liquor store and parked on the side of the building. He didn’t want anyone that knew him to drive by and see his truck, just in case it was a co-worker. The first thing he noticed as he rounded the corner of the building was one of his neighbors coming out of the front door. It was Mr. Ramsey from down the street. He was a fucking weirdo, and Wade didn’t want to get into a conversation with him, so he waited till his neighbor was out of sight before proceeding.

  As he entered the store he felt like a little kid going to buy some candy. There were so many options, so many flavors to savor. Wade had always preferred whiskey though, so he decided on a fifth of Canadian Club and made his way to the register. The old hag at the counter carded him as he suspected she would, glaring at him the whole time. He couldn’t help but think about how much he’d like to kick her in the teeth, but not today. He had much bigger plans. Wade had decided last night that he wasn’t done with the pervert next door, after all.

  Once he got back in his truck and on the road again, he immediately opened the bottle and took a swig. Wade was well aware that he should wait until everything was situated to begin drinking, he just didn’t give a shit. He needed to drink, he needed to taste it, to remember that warm feeling in his stomach that he’d missed for two months now. As he approached his destination he was already feeling a buzz. He parked on the street behind his house and put his bottle into his bag. Wade was ready to visit the neighbor again.

  He came down the street from the opposite side of his own house. The home on the other side of Mark’s house was up for sale, so Wade knew that nobody would be there. After a quick glance around in all directions, he was convinced nobody was watching him and that it was safe to proceed. Moving into the backyard of the empty house, bag in hand, he hopped the fence and crept throug
h Mark’s yard up to the back door. Wade took a moment once more to make sure nobody was watching him before pulling out a credit card. He messed with the lock until it clicked open, and soon, Wade was inside Mark’s kitchen.

  The first thing he heard was the faint sound of classical music coming from another room, so that’s where he assumed Mark was. Wade pulled his knife out of the bag and slowly moved towards the sound of the music. Beethoven wasn’t the only familiar sound in the house though; as Wade got closer he heard a fapping noise. He was pretty sure he knew what it was, and his hunch was verified as he made his way into the living room. There was Mark with his back to him, sitting in a computer chair with his pants around his ankles, furiously jerking off to whatever was on the screen in front of him.

  “You sick, old, mother fucker.” Wade laughed, as Mark spun around in his chair and came all over himself.

  “What...what are you doing here? Please, I learned my lesson already. Please, leave me alone.”

  “Look at you man, you’re disgusting. You just sit right there, and don’t fucking move. You understand me?” Wade pointed the knife at him.

  “I understand. Just please don’t hurt me again.”

  Before Wade could respond there was a knock at the door. He rushed over to Mark and spoke very quietly. “Whoever that is on the other side of the door, you get rid of them, and you get rid of them fast. You understand me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now pull your goddamn pants up and answer the door. Any funny stuff and I’ll kill you and whoever that is. Now go.”

  Wade followed Mark and stood off to the side of the door as he answered it. It was Emma, evidently there to check on him. Mark flipped out and slammed the door in her face, though; he did good. Why did Emma need to check on the neighbor? That didn’t sit well with Wade, but he decided he’d worry about it later. It was time to take care of the perverted piece of shit in front of him.