Gemini: A Psychological Horror

by Stuart Keane

  Gemini

  By

  Stuart Keane

  &

  Matt Hickman

  Copyright © Stuart Keane and Matt Hickman 2016

  Cover art copyright © MB Design

  Published: August 12th, 2016

  Publisher: Stuart Keane

  The rights of Stuart Keane and Matt Hickman to be identified as authors of this Work has been asserted by them 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 of the authors’ and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Gemini 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.

  For more information about Stuart Keane, please visit www.stuartkeane.com

  For more information about Matt Hickman, please visit www.matthickmanauthor.blogpost.co.uk

  For more information about the cover artist, please visit www.michaelbrayauthor.com

  Also by

  Stuart Keane

  Available on Amazon Kindle and Print

  Author

  The Customer is Always…

  Charlotte

  All or Nothing

  Whispers – Volume 1: A Collection

  Cine

  Grin

  Whispers – Volume 2: A Second Collection

  89

  Awakening

  8 Church Field

  Collaborations

  The House That Hell Built

  (w/ Matt Shaw and Michael Bray)

  Also by

  Matt Hickman

  Available on Amazon Kindle and Print

  Author

  Hexad (w/ Andrew Lennon)

  Bound (w/ Andrew Lennon)

  Jeremy

  Amnesia

  Acknowledgements

  We would like to thank Julia and Neil for editing and proofing Gemini. As always, you did an excellent job. This collaboration looks polished and beautiful now you’ve worked your Midas touch on it. Thank you!

  We personally want to send a massive thank you to the excellent Mandy Tyra. Without your impressive feedback, acute eye for horror, and critical decisive thoughts, as well as your expertise in all things female, the characters in this book couldn’t have existed in their current form. The book has flourished because of your many observations, so thank you.

  To Maxine Groves, Frankie Yates, Nev Murray, Craig Wade, Brian DeLaney, Siobhan Quinlan, Becky Narron, Daryl Duncan, and Lisa Swearengin. Thank you for taking time out of your various busy schedules to read Gemini. We appreciate your critical input; you were the first people to read the entire completed manuscript, and we feel our work was in good hands. I can assure you that our teeth didn’t sacrifice too many fingernails while we waited for your thoughts, opinions we respect to a very high degree.

  We both want to thank Helen, Millie and Jake. For Matt, they are his whole world. For Stuart, I appreciate that you let me borrow your husband/father on a continuous basis for several months; the hours and days that went into constructing this collaboration were vital to the process. I hand him back in pristine condition – I hope.

  To Shaun Hutson, James Herbert, Stephen King, Richard Laymon and Clive Barker. For hours of entertainment, the many childhood scares, and the inspiration that drove us to produce such a sick book. We couldn’t have done this without you.

  And finally, to everyone who is reading Gemini. This book is for you, from us, horror fans to horror fans. Enjoy!

  For the Gemini in every one of us.

  Those who are quick-witted and expressive, and to those who are indecisive and restless.

  You socialise and communicate, and are never short of a bit of fun. You sometimes show a ruthless serious side to contrast the former, but we don’t mind. Either way, whichever side of the personality coin is facing us, a visage we can never predict, we love you all the same.

  “I have this weird sort of Gemini thing where I can really be empathetic and a loving person. But if you piss me off, I can be one of the meanest, most sadistic people.”

  - Bill Burr

  “Geminis can detach themselves from someone so easily. They use this as a defence mechanism to protect themselves emotionally.”

  - Anon

  “I don’t know why it started. I don’t have any definite answers on that myself. If I knew the true, real reasons why all this started, before it ever did, I wouldn’t probably have done any of it.”

  - Jeffrey Dahmer

  I

  Some people will tell you it was the coldest winter on record for three decades, but others would also tell you that the brisk chill of the season, with its bright snowfall and innocent seasonal abandon, was overshadowed by something darker and unspeakable.

  Was it the winter of discontent?

  Some would say that was the case, yes.

  Society is a rare beast; unpredictable and yet simple, but brimming with uncertain fear and uneasiness. People will tell you the tale of the boogeyman and laugh hysterically, putting on a brave front, all the while keeping their bedroom light on while they sleep to deter such an imaginary urban myth. People are fickle and, in most cases, liars, but the truth matters not when utter horror makes its way to your door. Lies will never protect you.

  Society is a slathering beast, a stuttering yet functioning machine; life – which includes your mundane nine-to-five, or your never-ending mortgage, or your unwanted taxes, all necessary financial institutions that organise and ruin your lives – is an everyday duvet for the brooding underbelly beneath, one that houses the deep revulsion and urban decay that pollutes cities and streets and humanity as a whole.

  Society is a beast all right; it’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  It’s the perfect cover and the perfect canvas.

  For the artistic demons looking to hone their craft…

  Odette Page shrugged her slim fingers from her shallow pockets, shivered, and zipped up her coat. The trembling hands returned to their mediocre solace, shying away from the October chill, rasping against the slick material. Her footsteps became ominous and obvious, pounding the cracked, rain-soaked concrete a little faster with each step she took into the increasingly cold breeze. She rounded a corner and cursed as the traffic lights flicked to red, the little crimson man commanding her to remain on the kerb. She breathed out, a plume of whirling mist erupting into the brisk air before her.

  She sighed.

  So much for being home early.

  She stepped from foot to foot on the pavement, her shoes clacking on the ground, in a feeble attempt to generate some much-needed warmth in her stone-cold body. The wind was biting, abrasive, curling up her rippling trouser legs and down her lithe neck, chilling each and every inch of flesh beneath her layers. The rain had stopped – for now – but she expected it to return at some point, probably sooner rather than later, to make the walk home a little more uncomfortable. She felt water squelching beneath her worn leather boots, a result of uneven path laying and shoddy workmanship.

  Yet, despite this, Odette was smiling.

  A broad, genuine smile of happiness, one that was hard
to shake off. She gazed at her watch for the sixteenth time since leaving work seven minutes ago – aware that she was counting unnecessarily in her head – and whooped a little. A surge of warmth tickled her freezing insides, the cold wind forgotten for a brief, joy-filled moment.

  Leaving work three hours early.

  Unheard of, she thought.

  Practically a miracle, considering her boss was an uptight wanker who treated his employees like shit. Still, when the business was promptly closed down for health and safety reasons, going home was the only solution. That, or face a hefty public fine.

  And an uptight wanker wouldn’t be seen dead paying for something so ‘frivolous’.

  Hence the early finish.

  Three whole hours; one hundred and eighty free minutes to do with what she wanted.

  She could catch a film or two at the cinema, go shopping for unneeded clothes and top up the credit card, or take in some of the culture that kept London’s coffers bulging on a regular basis. Maybe a museum or an art gallery, the Natural History or the Tate. Even the London Eye seemed somewhat appealing, what with its beautiful panoramic views of the capital. The possibilities were endless.

  As these options filtered through her brain, only one stood above the rest.

  Yes, she knew what she wanted to do.

  It had required two unplanned stops on the way home.

  The traffic lights blinked to orange, and Odette stepped off the steep kerb, ignoring any traffic as she ambled across the narrow road. A car honked, but she paid it no heed, her new plans the only thought in her buzzing mind. The box in her handbag rattled as its contents bounced around. Stepping onto the opposite kerb, she walked steadily, gaining pace, almost at her destination.

  I hope Gavin likes it.

  Odette smiled.

  Of course he will. The second purchase caressed the top of her thighs gently, the new slinky lace underwear – red and crotch-less, for his pleasure - still finding its comfort zone. She gripped the panties through the thin material of her trousers, adjusting the waistline a little. She blushed, aware that she was, for all practical purposes, going commando.

  Worth it, she thought.

  Surprise sex and dinner in the afternoon, it doesn’t get much better than that.

  Gavin worked from a cosy home office, so she knew he would be home, knew he would appreciate the unexpected break from his mundane routine. She imagined the scenario in her head, arriving at their flat, getting changed, emerging in the living room in just the underwear. She envisioned walking into his office, playing it coy, straddling him slowly and grinding her sex into his lap.

  She nibbled her bottom lip.

  The thought of straddling Gavin, slowly unzipping his fly, easing down onto him and groaning as he entered her made her flinch, nearly knocking her off her stride. She felt a warmth rise from her groin, and felt her cheeks redden a little more. She breathed out sharply and paused, leaning on a nearby lamppost to regain her composure. The metal was slick and cool to the touch. Thankfully, the street was empty bar a dark car that drove past steadily, its tyres sloshing in the puddles.

  Oh my, she thought. Getting a little carried away, aren’t we?

  She grinned, and giggled like an energetic schoolgirl. She swiped her palms down her trousers, brushing the material into place. The crisp chill in the air eased her blushing, cooling her down.

  Not long before the temperature rises again.

  You’re such a hoot!

  She giggled again, and continued on her journey.

  Turning onto their street, she glanced around and walked over to a brick wall. Placing her leather handbag beside her, and watching left and right to ensure she was alone, Odette checked the first gift cautiously, the one she wasn’t wearing. She removed a small grey carton from her handbag, opened it gently and placed the lid to the side. She observed the two small vials of cocaine and a miniature bottle of whisky. Her lips curved into an excited smile.

  If all goes well, he’ll be sniffing this off my thighs later.

  She groaned, imagining the soft caress of his warm lips, one that drove her insane with unbridled lust.

  There’s a time and a place, Odette, and just short of the doorstep ain’t it.

  Replacing the lid delicately, and tucking the box away from prying eyes, she hoisted her handbag over her shoulder and continued on her way. Excitement controlled her now, the last few steps to her home were rushed and haphazard. Giddy with happiness, she staggered up the steps and shoved her hand into the bag to locate her door keys. After some fumbling, she removed the bunch and let herself in. The entrance hall greeted her as she closed the door, the heat of the building washing over her. She sighed, closing her eyes.

  Home sweet home.

  Odette listened and relaxed, soaking in the silence.

  No noise, no muted chatter, no rumble of distant TV sets.

  Three hours early. The work day on a Thursday. No one would be home.

  Except me, she thought, smiling. Except us.

  Unwrapping her scarf and hanging it over a hooked forearm, and removing her shoes to eliminate any announcing noise – she wanted the surprise to be all his – she made her way past Apartment 2 and walked up the stairs. Her fingertips glided along the polished oak bannister, the touch electric and somewhat forbidden, like she was trespassing because she was home early, the thrill trickling through her. Her breath caught, and she shook her head when she realised. Tiptoeing with damp socked feet, she made it to the top of the staircase without a sound.

  Not far to go now. Just one more stretch to Apartment 4.

  Placing a hand over her mouth, she slowly made her way down the gloomy hallway, keeping to the shadows, her presence obvious to no one. As she approached the door, she scrunched up her face, trying her hardest not to giggle. She slid the key into the lock gently, winced as she turned it ever so slowly and felt the latch slot home, vibrating against the key. The sound was subtle, almost non-existent, but to Odette, at that moment, it sounded like a dumbbell hitting the floor.

  What if he heard me?

  He’s probably got his music on.

  You don’t know that.

  He can’t work without it.

  She eased the door open, and slid softly into the apartment. The plush carpet muffled her footsteps, welcoming her home like it did every other day. Once in, she slipped the key from the lock, holding the bunch in her fist to reduce noise, and closed the door slowly. She stood in the gloom for a moment, expecting to be discovered. For several seconds, she waited for Gavin to emerge in the hallway to investigate the strange noise she’d made.

  Damn. Rumbled. Typical.

  But he didn’t.

  She was safe.

  Hanging her scarf in place, and leaving her shoes and handbag beneath the coatrack, she removed her coat smoothly and added it to the small collection that resided on the hooks. She pinched at her shirt, pulling the damp material away from her breasts, ushering in the cool air of her home.

  Time to put those three hours to use.

  The hallway that ran down the centre of their home, or the spine as she fondly called it, stretched before her, two wide doors on either side. Gavin’s music sounded from his office at the end of the hall, the only door that remained closed. Being a science enthusiast and general dork, Odette liked to name their rooms according to the rough layout. Once the spine analogy had entered her mind, during a random conversation during their hectic moving day, it stuck, and the rest of the rooms followed suit. The front door was the head, the living room and kitchen were the arms, the twin bedrooms the legs. The office sat at the far end of the hall, or the arse end, as her boyfriend fondly liked to call it, with all the immature wit of a teenage boy.

  “I’m going up the arse now to do some work,” Gavin would purr, winking.

  She chuckled now, under her breath as she did every single time.

  Such wit and banter.

  “It’s the only arse you’ll ever get into,” she would reply o
n occasion, meaning it, a gentle reminder of the one firm barrier that restricted their sex life.

  We’ll see. Maybe one day I’ll let him in, she thought.

  That’s the crotch-less panties talking.

  She smiled. Probably.

  The music wasn’t too loud, nor too low; she imagined the sound bouncing around the apartment like an invisible third resident, springing off the walls and twirling on the carpet with unlimited, energetic abandon. Who knows, maybe it was hoovering the living room, like in that film with Robin Williams, God rest his soul.

  She shook her head, rubbing her temple.

  Her imagination was getting the best of her again.

  You’re such a fucking dork.

  She guessed Gavin was sitting at his desk, working his fingers to the bone as usual. The music usually meant as much, which was perfect. She could sneak into the bedroom and change, slowly enter the office while wearing her present and surprise her boyfriend.

  That’s what I’ll do.

  She started down the hall.

  The music thrummed through the walls gently. She reached the kitchen and stopped, the music garnering her attention. She barely recognised the song, but had heard it enough times, had listened as Gavin raved on about it. Pearl Jam, yes, but which song? Even Flow, was it? I think that’s the one. She didn’t care much for rock music. The guitar riffs all sounded the same to her.

  As subtle as she could be, she stepped forward and poked her head into the living room. All was quiet. Nothing was disturbed. She saw Gavin’s games console sitting on the side, the cables spooling from the rear of the huge black box like messy spaghetti. She grimaced, groaning inwardly, and resisted the urge to tidy up. She ignored her OCD, just this once. Returning to the hall, and realising the music had now ceased, she quickly checked the kitchen.

  All was quiet there too.

  Except for the two wineglasses sitting on the side.

  Both of which were half empty.

  Odette smiled, a brief laugh escaping her lips, and then narrowed her eyes. The tingling of unsure suspicion prodded at her brain.

  Wait.

  He doesn’t know I’m coming. He can’t know.

  Can he?