Before We Fractured: Books 1-3

by Bradon Nave

  “Is that what you think? You think you got what it takes to kill me?”

  “I killed my uncle—”

  “You’re weak. You’ve spent so much time convincing yourself that you done gained some sort of strength…you’re pathetic pond scum. The scraps of your own family’s sick and twisted lowlifes.

  “Shut up! You’re a bastard.” Raising the hammer, Avery’s fist flew toward my face—it all went red as I crashed to the ground.

  Fight or flight. I flew. Rolling over and over, I rose to my feet and ran with all I had left into the thicket.

  “Bitch! Come here! You won’t last the night, Kacey! You won’t last the night!”

  ***

  Bloodied and battered, my lungs burning for a break…yet I couldn’t stop running. Deeper into the surrounding woodlands, I hadn’t a clue now where I was—only that it was getting later and the sounds of the night were becoming increasingly disturbing.

  Sounds of motors passing in the distance reassured me that I wasn’t the only human on the planet; however, there were no roads or even trails in sight—there was only thick brush and leafless trees.

  My head was as restless as the surrounding woodland—both teaming. Thoughts of Jessie being reprimanded like a schoolboy by the psychotic Avery made me physically ill. I couldn’t imagine him being hurt any more than he had been already.

  A complete sociopath, Avery would say anything to leave me discombobulated when his physical assault lacked at getting the job done entirely. What he said of my family, however, did ring some truth. I couldn’t deny that.

  Certain his ignorant ass wouldn’t have been able to traipse through to locate me, I contemplated finding a place to rest as the last of the day’s light escaped behind a blanket of sinister clouds.

  Thunder in the distance encouraged me to continue my journey deeper into nowhere. The car engines resounding in the distance would without a doubt produce at least one kind motorist with a phone. I just had to make it to them—they were becoming increasingly clearer.

  As the wind’s force intensified a few fat rain drops fell heavy and cold on my face and head. Within seconds the area was being pummeled by the storm overhead.

  It came from nowhere; I simply stepped from the tree line and there it was—a small road, a driveway actually. I didn’t care where it led at this point, I began running down it. It appeared as though it was used frequently, although only one car would fit on it at a time and it was surrounded by thick forest on either side.

  Running quickly I was soon upon a small white house. It appeared to be well-kept with a covered porch and a newer looking truck and an older car in the in front.

  Completely drenched, I made my way up the wooden steps to the door. The smell of burning firewood entered my nostrils—an instant comfort. Surely these people would help me.

  Bringing my hand to the door I was startled by a looming growl to the right of me.

  “Oh my God!”

  Backing away from the large lab-looking dog, my butt rested against the railing of the porch. The last thing I needed to add to this equation was dog bite.

  “Help!” My screech alarmed someone inside—someone was scurrying to the door. Smiling at me with a mouth of large white and brown teeth, the yellow dog stepped closer just as the door opened.

  “Clementine! That will be just about enough!” The man appeared in his late fifties as he stepped on the porch. Thin and sporting gray stubble, hair, and worn overalls, he approached with a curious gaze and an uneasy swagger.

  “Who is it, Doyle?” A portly woman wearing a yellow dress appeared behind the man.

  “Why look, Patty…I appears as though we have ourselves a wet princess.”

  Placing her pudgy hand on the man’s shoulder, she peered at me from behind him. “Oh my, Papa-Bear…it certainly does.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  “My, my, my, what a tale. It would certainly appear as though you are in a bit of a pickle.” Doyle’s mannerisms and the way he looked at me left me uneasy, but he and his wife, Patty were my only option at this point. Wrapped in a quilt with my hair in a scratchy towel, I sat in their cramped kitchen—which smelled heavily of burning firewood. The free-standing iron furnace was situated in the living room, not far off the kitchen.

  “I know. Please. I just need to use the phone and I’ll be out of your hair, I promise.”

  “Phone is out, my sweet. It has been for a spell.” Patty reached her hand across the table, resting it atop of mine as she smiled. Her gray hair was pulled tightly into a bun on her head.

  “Do you have cellphones? All you have is a landline phone?”

  “You don’t have a cellphone? Papa-Bear and I see no need for such devices. We have all we need right here.”

  “I lost it. I lost my phone…please. Could one of you please take me to town? I need to go to the police station.”

  “Let’s just get this busted nose and all these scrapes on the mend…then we’ll talk about the silliness like traveling in this downpour.”

  “Patty…he has my boyfriend. He’s insane. If I don’t get back there I have no clue what he’ll do. I have to save him!”

  “My, Papa-Bear. We certainly have a livewire, don’t we?”

  “We do indeed, my love…we do indeed.”

  “You’re not going to help me? I need help—”

  “We are helping you…aren’t we Papa-Bear?”

  “Young lady, please, calm yourself. You’re as restless as the winds outside…howling through the tall trees.” Doyle leaned closer to me. Smiling, his grin exposed a mouth of tanned teeth—his eyes were weathered, yet had a certain malice to them. I felt uncomfortable. I felt as though I were in the company of jackals.

  “Might I fetch you a bowl of hot soup? Fresh and tasty.” Patty’s offer was awkward—her eyes—both of their eyes were hiding something. Glancing about the premises, I knew for certain this stop was a horrible mistake.

  “No ma’am. I do appreciate you offering though.”

  “Perhaps a hot bath with some softening salts? That might calm you. You…running like a wild fool through the ivy and branches. Let your personals soak a spell. We ladies should always be mindful of our hygiene.” Taking my hand, Patty grinned at me once more. I immediately envisioned as small window in the bathroom—an escape.

  “Okay.”

  ***

  Small and lacking the traditional charm the remainder of the house had, the bathroom had a small sink with an oval mirror above it, a claw-foot tub with no shower and an extremely small window above it—there was only a small sliding lock on the door.

  Patty was overbearingly hospitable as she intrusively sat on the toilet, reaching for the water to check for temperature.

  I stood near the end of the tub, clutching the towel to my chest. Watching her pour the salts into the running water, I was nearly overcome by my nerves. She needed to leave—I needed to escape, but I couldn’t do that until she left the bathroom. I was without any logical plan, but that was nothing new. There was nothing logical about anything anymore. Nothing made sense. It was as if some psychotic writer had taken what was left of my life and handed me back this bizarre story that I couldn’t even dream on a bad night.

  “I think I got it, Patty. You can leave now.”

  “Oh…now don’t you go to frettin’. Remove your garments. I’ll wash the day from your hair while you soak your personals—”

  “I don’t feel comfortable undressing in front of you and I’m quite capable of washing my own hair. It’s…it’s been a really long day and I would like to take a bath and relax. Please.”

  Her smile was less than pleasant, yet she smiled just the same. “Indeed, my dear.”

  Shutting the water off, Patty stood and left the bathroom. As soon as the bitch was out of the door, my towel was on the floor. I went directly for the window. There was no way of knowing exactly what the hell was going on, but I was certain that Doyle and Patty were a hindrance at best, a
nd possibly much worse.

  Pressing upward on either side of the thick white painted wooden window frame, I was instantly disappointed to find it sealed shut.

  “Shit.”

  There was no other option. I would have to walk back out the door I walked in. I would simply thank them and be on my way.

  Reaching for the door, I was shocked to open it to a lurking Patty.

  “Oh, dear! My word. You should be in that good soak right now.”

  “I thank you but I think I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yea. Excuse me.”

  Pushing past her in the hall I made my way to the living room—right in the path of a standing Doyle.

  “Well hello. You didn’t feel a bath would ease your worry?”

  “No sir. I’m just going…I thank both you and Patty. I think it would be best if I was on my way.”

  “Is that right?” Stepping closer in my direction, I anticipated Doyle’s lunge.

  “Doyle was about to deliver you to the station like you wished. The heavy rains have settled. We can all go.” Patty entered the living room from the hall.

  “No shit? You’ll take me to the police station in town?”

  “Young lady…there is no need for such language. Patty said we would go…and we will go.”

  Looking to him, my eyes caught the glimmer of a set of keys in his hand. “Okay then. Let’s go.”

  Walking past him, a thick wooden sign above the front door caught my immediate attention. ‘Dunham.’ My mind raced—I’d heard that name. It was Avery. The first day, he’d mentioned friends by that name. These people—that explained so much.

  “Fancy a soft drink for the journey? Doyle and I always enjoy a smooth carbonated beverage on the drive to town—”

  “He’s your friend! You know him, and he’s your friend!”

  As Doyle and Patty moved closer together, obstructing my escape from the front door, neither of them seemed outraged by my accusation.

  “Young lady…we’re all friends in these here parts. But that doesn’t mean that we don’t aim to help you. We’re just kind and neighborly people, my wife and I.”

  Stepping backwards, my heart felt as though it literally stopped in my chest as the black rotary phone hanging on the wall near the kitchen let out an intrusive ring.

  “Oh. Oh my, Papa-Bear. It appears the phone is working again.”

  “Indeed it does, Patty Sue. Indeed it does.”

  Biting my lip, my gaze bounced about the home for alternative escape route—there was none. As Patty answered the phone, her eyes never left me.

  “Hello…why, why yes indeed. Oh yes. Oh yes, sir. I do believe so. Yes…please hurry.”

  Hanging up the phone, Patty was quick to rejoin her husband.

  “He’s on his way here now, isn’t he?” My voice was barely capable of producing the words.

  “Who dear?”

  “You know who, bitch! The man you were just talking to! Avery!”

  “Young hateful woman! Don’t you dare speak to my wife in such a manner!”

  “Let me leave! Please! Doyle—Patty! He’s going to kill me. I’m only eighteen years old!

  “Kill you? Why Heavens to Betsy…what kind of nonsense is this young hoodlum hissing at us, Doyle?”

  “I haven’t the slightest, Patty Sue. I think she’s been out in that downpour a good spell and needs to calm her goose pimples near the cast-iron…what say you, Kacey-girl? Sit by the fire and calm your pretty little head?” His eyes, smile and peculiar way he cocked his head completed the profile of a sinister character that no book or childhood tale could have painted. There was a recognizable evil on him that he couldn’t hide behind a decrepit smile and a softened tone. There was no doubt I was in the thick of evil—Jessie and I were in the thick of evil, but I had both my feet and fists. I had to fight my way from these ignorant fiends if I had any chance of rescuing him.

  “Okay. I’ll sit near the fire.” Making my way backward to the stove, my gaze never left my hosts.

  “Might I fetch you a smidge of hot tea? Something to relax you—”

  “No ma’am. Thank you. I’ll take that Pepsi or Coke or whatever you were talking about though.”

  “Indeed.” As Patty Sue slowly paced to the refrigerator, Doyle made his way to me.

  “That heat is a welcoming treat to cold bones.”

  “Yes sir…it is.”

  “Patty Sue. Would you fetch me my good snakeskin belt? These here trousers are bit big.”

  “Why yes, Papa-Bear.”

  Warming my hands, I attempted to absorb the circumstances while maintaining enough clarity to formulate an escape plan. The only thing that came to mind was charging past them and out the door—but then there was that damn dog.

  “Papa-Bear…one…two…three.” Patty’s pudgy hands grabbed my arm as Doyle attempted to grab the other while holding his belt.

  “Don’t fight us, princess. You needn’t…you needn’t work yourself into a tizzy.” His words smelled of rancid tooth decay and coffee aside my face as we struggled in the soft glow of the dim light.

  “Let go of me!” Breaking from Patty’s grasp, I secured the back of her hair in my grasp. With all my might I brought her face to the hot stove, instantly filling the air with the stench of burning flesh and her screams.

  “Release her!” Doyle’s demand was coupled with his weathered grasp about my throat. My retaliation was soon to follow. Swatting his hands away, I punched the bastard in the face—sending him backward.

  I saw this as my opportunity. I had to leave now—if I didn’t they might regain their strength and attack again. Patty continued to scream as I fled for the door, anticipating the teeth of the awaiting dog.

  Bolting to the porch, I was met by a bewildered-looking Clementine. I wasted no time in preparation. Bracing my balance with house, I kicked the hound in the muzzle, sending her cowering backward.

  Leaping from the porch, I darted across the soaked lawn to the cover of the trees. There was some commotion behind me but I didn’t dare turn to address it. I knew without a doubt I could outrun their legs and eyes, but their buckshot was another story. I had to get as far from them as possible I had to escape them entirely.

  ***

  Hours and endless branches distanced me from the deranged Dunhams.

  Even the air was wet—as saturated as my mind with nothing but desperation. Sitting on the damp earth with my back resting next to a huge tree, I watched my breath leave my lips in the frigid air. This was misery.

  My fingers no longer ached—they were completely numbed now. The only warmth I had was fading; my thoughts of Jessie were fading. The possibility of rescuing him had seemed to have slipped from my fingers much like any sensation I’d had. My heart told me to rise, but there was nothing left to rise with. The cold had me captive.

  As a rustling sound near me had only my gaze moving in its direction. I anticipated a woodland animal—possibly a predator, or even one of my psychotic pursuers. I was shocked to see a bashful Clementine emerge from the brush near me.

  I awaited her low growl—possibly her revenge. Instead, she approached in a friendly manner, tail tucked and butt wagging.

  Cautiously, I extended my hand to her licking chops. Within seconds her entire weight was across my lap—as if she could sense my hypothermia. Burying my face into her side, I felt the dog’s body warmth coaxing my fingers from paralysis.

  A glimmer of hope resurrected—it was followed quickly by the inability to stay awake.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  Blinking my eyes, I was quick to raise my hand to block the intrusive morning sun from entering either of them as I looked about my surroundings—attempting to recall what the hell was going on.

  My warm hands reminded me of my fury rescuer—Clementine had remained across my lap the entire night. Attempting to thank her, I found my voice to be nothing more than a silent squeak at best.

  Clementin
e appeared to be thrilled with my arousal as she licked my face and sprang from my lap. Her wagging tail was a welcome sight.

  My body ached with something foreign—yet something familiar. I was rundown, possibly ill. As if I could pinpoint each joint in my body, my fingers and neck were stiff and my throat scratchy.

  Ailments aside, a mounting sense of hope assisted me to my feet—slowly. The leaves beneath me, rotting like Doyle’s teeth, attempted to cling to me as I stood. Wiping them away, I remained motionless a moment in the sun, absorbing what energy I could from it—much like a serpent would prior to beginning its day. Toxic or not, I would use my strengths to give one final effort to make things as right as they could be. Nothing is ever completely right. Even the Disney princesses disappear into the credits before the real chaos of life ensues.

  Taking a step closer to the sun, my hands rubbed feverishly over the backs of my arms—attempting to warm them. Step by step, I moved with my motivation as I had no idea of its lifespan.

  Clementine by my side, we continued our way through the thick and endless brush and trees. I was thankful for my unlikely companion. She was my fury hero. Certainly I would have succumbed to my darkening thoughts and the elements had the dog not plopped her lifesaving heat across me.

  Briefly, I envisioned assisting Jessie into Avery’s truck and he Clementine and I riding off into the sunset like some cheesy and poorly written young adult novel. That would never happen—and even if it did, the story wouldn’t end there. That’s the thing with tragedies…they never end. Even when the last page rests next to the others and the words are no longer warm with touch, it doesn’t end.

  Ours was no different. Our twisted tragedy would go on further than any silly sunset. I couldn’t focus on any of that. It wasn’t in my control. I had to assure I gave my best effort to ensuring he was able to go on—even if it was tragic.

  Nudging her head into my thigh, Clementine appeared to be wanting to guide me in some direction. Perhaps back to her devoted masters—no thank you, pooch.