by Horn, Marc
She pressed her lips against his cheek and then kissed his forehead. ‘Oh, John-Paul, thank God I didn’t lose you.’
‘Thank God you didn’t-’
She sealed his mouth with her hand before he could finish. ‘I didn’t. I’m here with you now, and I’ll be with you forever.’
John-Paul kissed her tenderly, blinking away tears. ‘You never had to hide anything from me, Jen. I don’t care what you’ve done. We’re meant to be together. I know you thought that was the case with Ben, but now you’re a woman, and you’ve made the right choice.’
Jen wiped tears from her cheeks. ‘I know I have.’
John-Paul smiled. ‘You look so happy, Jen. Happier than I’ve ever seen you.’
‘Oh, John-Paul,’ she said, cupping his face in her hands. ‘You’re such a wonderful person.’
‘Our future begins in Newcastle.’
Jen stood up, took a long look at the lounge, then at the suitcases, and then back at John-Paul. His heart burned when she said, her face alive with joy, ‘Let’s leave the past behind.’
51
Initially, they stayed in a B&B in Padstow. Days later, in early December, they bought a place - a detached house in Looe that Stacey had fallen in love with. It offered everything she’d ever wanted – a glorious conservatory, a beautiful garden set on the hills, and inside it was perfectly decorated and so homely. Its carpets were warm and fluffy, the wallpaper intact, and gorgeous French windows helped flood the place with light. There was ample space for her ornaments, and she’d found homes for each of them as soon as they’d moved in.
Derek bought a place in Plymouth, conscious that his skills would be redundant in small Cornish villages.
Life was wonderful. Sean was the perfect gentleman. He made her feel as if she was the most important, special person in the world.
She knew it could end at any moment. She had buried that heart-churning knowledge as deep as she could.
Sean got home at six o’clock, and then took her out for dinner at an Italian restaurant. He told her that he’d put a deposit on premises in Looe that he’d convert into a gym, so they celebrated together. Back at home, they sank into the sofa and sipped wine while they watched a film. The log fire leant their skin a warm glow and danced around playfully as they kissed.
In bed she looked into his loving eyes, and felt grateful to Will, Karen and Jenny for guiding him to her.
The moon was bright, accentuating her warm, full smile as she lay beneath him…
52
Derek suspected that the barman knew.
The pub in Looe was empty apart from him and Sean, yet the barman spent his spare time polishing clean glasses sitting on the shelves, and wiping down tables near theirs.
Any other barman would read a book, or watch the TV. This barman had not once glanced at the screen. And he didn’t look like a barman. And had Derek seen him somewhere else?
‘Chill out,’ Sean advised him, sensing his suspicion. ‘You’re getting paranoid.’
‘That’s not unwise.’
‘Dave, you can’t live life like this.’
Derek glanced at the barman behind the bar, noted he was looking elsewhere, and then stared icily at Sean. ‘Don’t you ever call me that again, do you understand?’
Sean smiled and drank some of his beer. ‘I understand.’
‘I think this was a mistake,’ Derek said, shakily.
‘That’s just pessimism.’ Sean could see sweat forming beneath Derek’s cap. ‘Relax.’
Derek began to tremble.
‘It’s all in your head,’ Sean added.
Derek pushed himself up from his chair, staring fearfully at the barman. ‘We’re going.’
‘Sit down.’
Derek leaned towards Sean.
‘Sit fucking down,’ Sean ordered him, becoming annoyed.
Derek whispered slowly and clearly, ‘Sean, we’re leaving now.’
‘We’re not going anywhere.’
Derek clenched his fists and grit his teeth. ‘Yesterday, I had an interview at an agency in Plymouth,’ he hissed. ‘The barman was working there. And now he’s working here. We’re going.’
He stood up and then walked off as calmly as he could.
When Sean got to his feet, the barman briskly left the bar and walked up to them. ‘Leaving so soon, gentlemen?’ he said perkily. ‘How about another one on the house before you go?’ He grinned.
Sean punched him in the face, knocking him clean out. When he crashed to the floor, a police radio slipped free from his pocket.
‘We’re in shit, Sean,’ Derek whined.
‘Don’t panic.’
Sean walked in front of Derek and headed for the door.
When he opened it, he saw the armed police a fraction of a second before he heard them. So many guns on him. Deafening loudspeakers barking at him. Making no sense.
He reached for the Walther in his back pocket. Felt only his arse. He turned, saw more barrels in his face. A line of armed barmen.
And Derek standing with his hands up, the Walther by his feet.
‘Did you take that out my pocket, you cunt?’ Sean roared.
Derek nodded, tears streaming down his face. ‘I don’t want you shot,’ he cried.
More shouting from police. Swarming in on him. Trying to grab him.
He grabbed an arm, swung it round and the officer crashed into the wall.
More hands. Swinging his fists about. Hearing crunches.
On the floor. Stun gun? Must be.
Immobilised.
Journey over.
53
Sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor, Ryan stared ahead. He could see as far as the corridor outside his cell.
He wondered who occupied the cells next to his. They would have to fulfil his social needs until his trial next week.
‘I knew you’d come.’
Voice of the prisoner in the cell to his right. Shivers bounced along his spine…
Voice of his father.
‘I knew you’d done it, before they interrogated me. Told ’em fuck all.’ Ryan closed his eyes. ‘She ain’t dead,’ Will hissed.
Ryan shook his head. His father hadn’t changed.
‘Dave shot her. I saw the carcass.’
‘Son, you didn’t pull the trigger.’
‘So?’
‘You didn’t load the weapon.’
Ryan smiled. Will was trying to nurture doubt, trying to draw out the worst in him.
‘Dave’s my best mate.’
‘He’s not a like-mind!’ Will snapped.
‘He wouldn’t betray me.’
Then Ryan recalled the revelations Dave had made to Fay about Ryan’s mother and his mines.
‘He helped the pigs!’ Will roared. ‘He took the fucking Walther out yer pocket!’
‘Because they would have killed me if I’d used it,’ Ryan calmly responded.
‘She has no wounds,’ Will whispered. ‘You’ve failed,’ he added venomously.
Ryan clenched his fists. ‘I never fail.’
‘She’s alive. The cunts are laughing at you, all of ’em.’
‘You’re talking shit.’ Ryan pressed his heels hard against the ground.
‘Paper cases, son.’ Will let the explanation hang in the air for a few seconds. ‘No bullets.’
Could that be true? Ryan wondered. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that it was possible. He’d found it hard to believe that Dave had killed someone.
Had he physically checked the wounds? Had he examined the weapon? No, Dave had kept it from him.
‘Simulated pistol, son - fuck all leaves the barrel.’
Ryan stood up. Was it true? Had Dave tricked him? Dave had said he’d killed Jenny to save him. To die, Zen had only to believe that Jenny was dead. Dave could have achieved the same result by faking her death…
‘Why ain’t the pigs found her body?’ Will asked aggressively.
‘Dave hid it.’
&n
bsp; ‘Why’d they never ask you where she is?’
Ryan rubbed his eyes. ‘I don’t know,’ he whispered.
‘Yes you fucking do,’ Will growled. ‘If they find her dead, who d’you think gets charged?’
Ryan said nothing.
‘You! Would Dave stitch you up with that?’
‘No,’ Ryan said softly.
‘Exactly! And would he do life for you?’
Ryan nodded. ‘Definitely.’
‘Bollocks! She ain’t fucking dead!’
‘She is,’ Ryan said uncertainly, backing against a wall.
‘You’ll see soon enough. She’ll give evidence against you at court.’
Ryan shuddered. ‘She won’t.’ He felt his legs weaken.
‘She ain’t scared no more. You’re banged up, no threat. She’ll be there.’
‘No way,’ Ryan said shakily, sliding onto the ground.
‘And what you gonna do if she is?’
Ryan bowed his head and mumbled, ‘What I set out to.’
‘How? You’re in a cell.’
Ryan barely had the strength to stand. He struggled over to the bars of his cell.
‘It’s back to basics, son. Remember, my blood runs through your veins.’ Will reached through his bars.
Ryan gazed at the blood rings on Will’s wrists.
‘You remember, son?’ Will asked.
Ryan nodded.
‘They’re scars now, they’ll not heal.’
Ryan looked back at the photos of Stacey on his walls. Closed his eyes.
‘I know.’
The End
About the Author
An ex-airborne soldier, I’m drawn to stories of hardship and survival. Carlin announcing he’s ‘The Daddy’ in Scum; Brendan fighting for his family in Warrior; David searching for answers in Vanilla Sky.
I don’t hold back when I write. Much of my stuff contains black humour. Some might call it a sick sense of humour, but whatever it is you have to have it in the army - laugh or you cry.
I enjoy writing psychological thrillers. I like to depict thought-provoking situations and in some cases to make people more aware of important topics.
Persona was my first novel. The Mortal Religion came next. For that novel, I thought I’d create a simple idea and just have two characters. Then I had to decide how two characters could carry a novel. Almost instantly I settled on a kidnap novel. What a great platform for character development! Creating the protagonist was more difficult. This person had to have serious issues that would drive him to kidnap someone.
Vanity and superiority are powerful topics. Chalk, with his unusual face, never gets lucky. And it’s clear to him that it’s because of his appearance. Of course, this isn’t fair and he longs for a relationship, to love someone.
It’s always been the same for him - he was bullied at school and excluded. He starts to question humanity, and wonders how he’ll ever be happy. And when he’s blown out again in a very spiteful way, he decides to take action. It’s the final straw. He’ll use that girl to change people, to have them understand their deficiencies.
Changing someone’s mind set was a fascinating challenge for me. And it introduced a love angle too - the more Elizabeth understood Chalk, the more appealing she became to him, causing him to experience self-doubt, paranoia, and threatening his overall objective.
I think it’s the most important novel I’ve written so far.
My favourite novels are Damnation Street, The Exorcist, Complicity, Blood of the Lamb, and The Cult. I’m into skiing, running, cycling, martial arts, chess, and writing!
I’m very excited about the forthcoming release of my third novel: Cuffed. Expect to see it before the summer. Excerpts, updates and offers will be available on my website.
Author’s Note
Thanks for reading Persona. I hope you found it entertaining and different! If you did, please leave a review on Amazon (rating a book on your Kindle doesn’t register for some reason). I’d also be grateful if you’d share your review on your social networks.
Keep in touch with me here, or discuss Persona:
Website: www.marchornwriter.com
Amazon author page: www.amazon.com/author/marchorn
Twitter: www.twitter.com/marchornwriter
Facebook: www.facebook.com/marchornwriter
YouTube: www.youtube.com/user/MarcHornwriter
Acknowledgments
Thanks to the following people for your help in creating Persona:
Editor: C Davies - Some very necessary re-writes wouldn’t have happened without you!
Proof-reader: L Chan – Thanks for the eagle-eyes.
Illustrator: Angela. You blew me away with the superb cover.
And the people who assisted with research: The Vigils for accompanying me on my Black Forest recce. ‘Can you see me?’ I’d ask repeatedly as I took cover behind trees. ‘Yes!’ was the all-to-frequent reply!; The Khans for their medical advice; Mr Dytrych-Cowell for info about the sniper rifle; Mr Pyatt for suggesting Richmond Park as a venue for the meditation scene in chapter 6; And Mr Kohler for sharing his considerable knowledge of firearms.
Also available as an ebook or in paperback…
THE MORTAL RELIGION
Best Rabid Reader’s Reads of 2013 (Award-winning review blog)
Chalk Cutter was spitefully nicknamed Moonface as a child, and lives a life of torment and isolation because of his unusual appearance.
When young, popular and beautiful Elizabeth openly ridicules him, Chalk has had enough, and he realises that only a revolution could induce change.
He kidnaps Elizabeth, intending to re-educate her - and ultimately mankind - in an attempt to lead a narcissistic society to treat all people as equal.
But Chalk hadn’t anticipated his own emotional backlash to the brutal brainwashing process...
As he and Elizabeth begin to think alike, discussing ways to combat society’s evils, he is forced to face increasing self-doubt and sexual urges that could jeopardise his vision.
His self-control diminishing, and after some reckless actions, his elaborate plan seems little more than a pipe-dream, until an old nemesis infiltrates Chalk and Elizabeth’s world.
This fateful encounter is the catalyst for the creation of The Mortal Religion, the shocking revolution Chalk is certain will breed universal contentment...
E-thriller headlining Thriller of the Month April 2013
Featured on 42 Books to Read for Towel Day (from award-winning review blog Rabid Readers Reviews)
A dark, disturbing and thought-provoking psychological thriller that explores the effects of social exclusion, THE MORTAL RELIGION takes you deep inside the soul of self-discovery, desperation, and obsession. Unique and perceptive, it will grab you from the first page and not let you go until the last.
Sample Chapters 4-6
4
The spider is an ingenious predator. Effortlessly waiting in its home and trap for a fly to trigger a vibration.
Just as some spiders build their webs near decay, where flies fester, I have set my trap at Elizabeth’s favourite place – a party venue, where she will be admired by at least one person. Once the doorbell chimes, I’ll pounce on my prey and immobilise it...
It has been one hour since I sent the text message, and I am expecting Elizabeth imminently. Lyrics from the Stone Roses track ‘Elizabeth My Dear’ seep continually from my mouth. I can’t stop murmuring it, despite its inappropriateness – I am not a murderer.
I am confident that my prey will visit. I am relaxed and ready. For someone like her, the opportunity is irresistible, a no-brainer, and she will hurry to get here. She’s been informed that an attractive male waits eagerly for her, and she craves his attention. Flattery sustains her. In keeping with modern society, she is all about image.
At that moment, the blonde’s phone starts to ring. I take it out of my pocket and see Elizabeth’s face fill the screen. A surprise – I had not expected her to ask questions, but I
am not unprepared. I hurry down to the basement, then press the green phone symbol and hold the phone to my ear. I cannot hear what she says as my music is too loud. Of course, I say nothing. After a few seconds, she realises the call is pointless and ends it. I place the phone back in my pocket, hoping she was just calling to confirm her arrival time.
I make my way back to position. I have placed empty glasses and bottles of beer along the corridor leading up the front door, and my stereo plays a recently-purchased hip-hop CD at full volume in the basement. Elizabeth must believe there is a party downstairs. I considered buying a CD of droned voices and laughter in order to reinforce in her mind the existence of a party, but dismissed it. It would be a surplus effort. Elizabeth’s ego will guide her into my house. And like the spider, I will not expend more energy than is necessary.
And then, as I stride along the corridor, I hear the doorbell. I take a breath and slip quickly into position, in the computer room. The front door is ajar, just as I had left it. Fortunately, she has not yet opened it and therefore has not seen me. It is important that, initially, I remain faceless, which is why I wear a balaclava.
Phoning to say she had arrived – that’s why she had called. I hear the door creak open.
‘Hello?’ she excitedly says. I wiggle my toes and fingers. ‘Heather...?...Hea-’ She cuts the question short and enters my house. The entrance to the computer room is to her right, a few feet further on. Once she passes the room, I will attack. She advances so slowly that even I feel tension. Does the spider feel tense when a fly hovers in front of its web, agonisingly close to the sticky silk? She stops and questions what she is doing. I almost spring from my position, but manage to control myself. I must wait. I must be patient and wait. Her ego will get the better of her. It has to.