Table of Contents
Torment
Copyright
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
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
About the Author
Realms of Darkness
TORMENT
R.S. Broadhead
Torment
Copyright © 2016 R.S. Broadhead
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of the publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover Design © Stephanie Mooney
Formatting by Allyson Gottlieb of Athena Interior Book Design
Chapter One
Steele
Something wasn’t right. I could tell the minute I walked through the door of our normally inviting Chicago home. I gently placed my backpack near a large vase holding several umbrellas and glanced around. I needed something to let me know what I was feeling was completely and utterly wrong. My shoes squeaked as I walked across the shiny wooden floor and turned into the kitchen. That’s when I knew the gut feeling I’d fought all day was about to punch me in the face. My dad was hunched over the white marble island in the middle of the room with his back to me.
“Dad?” My voice shook. I cleared my throat in a sad attempt to regain the manhood my father instilled in me. When he didn’t answer, I joined him. He held a letter tight in his right hand. The long, curved, beautiful writing on each line belonged to my mother. What could she have written to make him act like this? My father was always so composed and levelheaded, which had helped him succeed in life. “Did something happen?” I asked, not really wanting to know. I wanted it to be like every other day. I wanted to be in my room, laying on my bed, texting girls, and ignoring my mom telling me to do my homework. Where was she? She was always here when I came home.
He looked up to me, his eyes wide, like he just realized who I was. His face was pale, and his normally gelled blond hair was messy. He would have frowned at me if I ever wore my hair like that. “Oliver. I didn’t hear you.” He folded the letter into a square and stuck it into the front pocket of his dress pants.
“I’ve been here for a few minutes. I tried to get your attention, but I guess you didn’t hear me when I came in.” I glanced down at his front pocket, like staring would somehow tell me what was in the letter.
“Mmmhmmm. That’s really interesting,” he said as he walked over to the cabinet and started rummaging through the pots and pans. He pulled a few out and set them on the counter between us. “I need to find us something to eat for supper. You’ve got to be starving.” He walked around the kitchen a few times and stopped at the back door, looking out over the patio.
Not sure what else to do, I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. “Dad? Where’s mom?” His shoulder slightly bounced beneath my grasp, and I realized he was crying. “Please … did something happen to her?” Panic had officially set in. It was like an uncontrollable fire that couldn’t be put out until he answered. I wanted to scream at him, rip the letter out of his pocket, or shake him until he realized his son needed him.
He finally turned to look at me with tears streaming down his face. “Let’s go to my study, Ollie. There’s something I need to tell you.” I let him lead the way, trying to manage my overactive emotions. It was hard, harder than anything I’d tried before. The not knowing of what he was about to tell me was killing me, but at the same time the fear of hearing the words was worse. It was bad. I could feel it.
I sat on the brown leather chair in front of his desk. It barely gave under my weight. The tight material and hard cushion was extremely uncomfortable. It was only for looks. Something my dad prided himself upon. The more expensive and classy, the better in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, slowly dragging it down his face before dropping into the chair beside me. He stared at the floor, not saying a word. The silence surrounded us. It was anything but peaceful. I shifted in the chair, causing it to make a noise, in an attempt to interrupt his thoughts.
He looked up to me like I was a stranger. Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on his knees, and brought his hands to his mouth. “Oliver … your mother.” He buried his eyes under his palms and took a deep breath. “Your mother left us, son. She isn’t coming back.”
I swallowed hard. It felt like a brick was stuck in my throat. A tiny prickling sensation started devouring my body, making it numb. An unfamiliar burning at the back of my eyes caused me to blink several times. I hadn’t cried in years. It was something I just didn’t do. My heart hammered against my chest so hard I thought it would burst. It didn’t matter if it did now. It was broken. The one woman who was supposed to be here for me—no matter what—had abandoned me. “What do you mean she isn’t coming back?” I asked finally, finding my voice.
My dad looked up at me. “She wrote a letter and left it on the counter. I knew something was wrong. She called me at work today and told me I needed to come home. She’s never done that before. When I got here, she was already gone, and the letter was all that was waiting for me.” He swiped a tear from his cheek.
Something had been different about her last night. She came in my room and lay on the bed next to me. When I asked what she wanted, all she could say was she just wanted to spend some time with me. I would give anything to have that moment back now. “Did she say why she left?” My mother always acted happy here with us. Sure, I could be a little difficult sometimes, but I wouldn’t call myself a bad kid. And my father, well, he worked a lot, but he just wanted to provide for us so we wouldn’t ever go without. He adored the ground my mother walked on.
“She said she was tired of being here with us and for us not to try to find her.” His voice broke on the last few words. “Oh, Ollie. What am I going to do without that woman?” It was hard for me to see him like this. My heart ached for my loss and at the sight of how this was affecting him.
The doorbell went off, causing me to jump. “Maybe that’s her!” Surely this all had to be a bad joke.
“It’s probably the investigator I called.” He stood from his seat and darted out into the hallway. I sat paralyzed with grief. Was that even possible? My body and mind sure told me it was at that moment. My mother annoyed me at times with her over coddling nature, but now that she wasn’t here, I wanted it more than ever. My dad ushered a man with greasy black hair into the room. He eyed me as he smoothed it over to the side. His clothes were wrinkled with one side of his shirt untucked from the
pants. Had my dad lost his mind? This guy didn’t look like the kind of man I wanted helping us. He only gave a few grunts and nods as dad rattled on, hardly stopping to take a breath.
“Ollie, can you give us a few minutes to talk?”
Despite wanting to sit in my depressed stupor, I commanded my body to work long enough to get to my room. I flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling. I tried clearing my mind, thinking about anything other than the realization that my world was crashing around me. But I couldn’t.
I don’t know how much time had passed, hours maybe. There was a gentle knock at my door. I didn’t move. The knob turned, and my grandmother, on my dad’s side, peeked her head through the small crack. “Sweetie?” she said. She tried to look cheerful like always, but it was clear she was worried. “I’ve made you some dinner if you want it.” I didn’t answer. I didn’t think I could ever talk again. “Your grandfather and I are going to stay with you for a few days. Your dad left with that investigator to look for your mom. I don’t know when he’ll be back.” I couldn’t swallow. Now he was gone. What if he didn’t come back? Who would I have then? “I’ll be down in the living room if you want to talk about anything. Try not to worry, Oliver. I’m sure she’ll be back before you know it.” She shut the door behind her. I wanted to believe her, but I didn’t know if that was going to happen. I rolled over, facing the wall, my eyes becoming heavy. No matter how much I fought sleep, it took over my body anyway. Dreaming was better than what I had to deal with.
The next morning my alarm screeched through my room. My body was stiff. I was still laying the same way I was when I’d fallen asleep. I stretched and rubbed my face, then stumbled across the room to the bathroom and popped the toothbrush into my mouth for a quick clean. My hair was sticking up in every direction, so I grabbed the gel and smoothed it down—the way my father insisted it be worn. I quickly grabbed a pair of pressed designer jeans from my drawer and a black button down shirt from the closet.
“You’re going to school this morning?” My grandmother’s voice startled me, making me drop the jeans. “I figured you’d stay here with us today in case we heard from your father. I ignored her and walked into the bathroom and shut the door. I hated treating her this way, but I couldn’t help it. I just didn’t want to talk to anyone or be around them. The fact was, I had no intentions of going to school. I just wanted them to think that. Once I heard her leave the room, I changed clothes and darted out the bathroom to my bedroom window. Leaving the house this way would avoid their looks and mindless chitchat. I slid it up and crawled through. Carefully, I climbed down the side of the house, using the trellis mom had placed there. I jogged through a thin lining of trees separating our house from the neighbors to head down the trail in front of their house. It led to a small creek, which over the years had become overgrown with limbs and low hanging vines. I found a fallen tree and sat down in the cool rocks, leaning back against it.
For weeks I did this. Just me and the little bit of nature I’d found in this busy suburban neighborhood. I was sure it wouldn’t be long and my grandparents would want me to start seeing someone. A psychiatrist. Like they could ever help me. They were worried over me. I only ate what I needed, and they had no idea where I was disappearing each day. They probably thought I was on drugs. The school had already called our house and told them I hadn’t been coming.
As the sun went down one afternoon, leaving a burnt orange and rosy pink hue across the sky behind the trees, I picked up the backpack I brought with me and tossed it aimlessly across my slumped shoulder. Time to force my feet along the trail back to the house. The closer I got, the more dread I felt, like a heavy yanking at my gut. I paused briefly at the lining of trees and noticed my dad’s car was in the driveway. I blinked a few times trying to make sure what I saw wasn’t an illusion. He hadn’t been back since the day he left with the detective. Not even a phone call. Maybe he’d found my mom and brought her back. I raced across the road, thundered up the steps two at time, and practically plowed through the back door.
“Dad? Mom?” My insides quivered with excitement. I couldn’t wait for her to wrap her arms around me. Voices from the living room caught my attention. I rounded the corner and found Dad sitting on the couch, leaning back with his eyes closed. Across from him, my grandparents sat on the loveseat, their faces chalked with deep lines of despair. “What happened? You didn’t find her? Where is she?” I couldn’t stop the questions. If I did, I would hear the answer I wasn’t ready for. Please don’t let her be dead. I couldn’t bear the thought.
My dad’s eyes rolled open, streaks of red running throughout the whites. His eyebrows drew together, wrinkling his forehead while his lips pulled back tightly. “What happened?” He stood from his seat and slowly started to come toward me. He looked like a crazy person on the verge of snapping. I looked to my grandparents, whose eyes looked just as confused as I felt. “You’re what happened!” He stopped a foot from me and glared with such hatred I could practically feel it wrapping around my body.
“Now, Benjamin, don’t say anything you’re going to regret. Don’t forget he’s your son.” My grandfather’s voice was close. He must have gotten up to make sure nothing was going to happen. What did I do to bring this on? Not go to school for a few weeks? Not eating? I hardly thought that was enough to deserve being stared at this way.
“Shut up old man. I’ll say whatever the hell I want to. This is my son and I can do as I please.” He cast a malicious glare behind him for a second and then directed his attention back to me. “Everything was fine until you came along, Oliver. We were happy. You only added stress to her life, and I’m pretty sure that’s why she left.” His words hit me like a punch to the gut. The air caught in my throat, making it difficult to breathe. My mind raced over memories, searching to confirm if his hurtful accusations had any truth to them. All I could see was my mother’s smiling face. She was happy with me.
“No.” Was the only word I managed to let escape my dried lips.
He cocked his head, pulling his brows even tighter. “No?” He lunged for me, knocking me to the ground. His hands wrapped around my throat and squeezed while pushing down. I thrashed around. Pressure seemed to build around my eyes like they were on the verge of exploding out of my head. Calm down. Remember the training you’ve had. I shifted my lower body to the side and threw my arm up, breaking his hold. I rolled over and jumped to my feet, gently rubbing my neck, still burning from his fingers. “Get out.” His breaths were heavy. “I said get out, I don’t want you here anymore!”
The tears burned at the back of my eyes, but I didn’t let them out. Anger poured through me, eating whatever hurt I had like a starved animal. Before I knew what I was doing, I kicked him in the face. His body hit the floor with a soft thud and didn’t move. How dare he blame me for this? This couldn’t be my fault.
“Oliver, wait!” my grandmother shouted behind me. I wasn’t waiting. I needed to get out of here and fast. I ran up the steps, and slammed the door to my room, making everything on the walls shake. I grabbed the empty duffle bag I used for Martial Arts camp every summer and started stuffing clothes in it. There was a knock at my door. I ignored it and continued the impulsive escape of the only life I had ever known. There was no turning back now. The door opened and she stepped into the room, assessing my packing. “I know I can’t stop you, but please just listen to me for a second.” She touched my arm. I took a deep breath and stopped. No matter what sadistic thoughts I was having at that moment from the adrenaline pulsing through me, I couldn’t disrespect her. “We have a trust fund set up for you. You won’t ever need money. I don’t know where you’re going, but I want you to be safe and use it.” She put a piece of paper in my bag and kissed my cheek before leaving the room.
I grabbed some cash from my drawer, not intending to ever use the money in the account she just gave me. Tightening the string on my bag, I cast one last look at my room. I would never see it again. Despite what had just happened, I wanted
to remember everything about this place, in as much detail as possible. I nodded as if bidding my life a farewell and climbed out the window in search of the new Oliver Steele.
Chapter Two
Steele
“Where to?” The man behind the glass window peered at me over his dirty half-mooned glasses as he rolled his mouth around chewing on what looked like a soggy burrito. I glanced up at the schedule behind him, really having no idea what I was even looking for.
“Any day, son. Some of the rest of us need to get our tickets before the buses pull off,” a lady behind me said. She tapped her foot impatiently on the grimy concrete floor.
“Ummm, when’s the next bus leaving?” I tried to deepen my voice. I wanted to look older so I wouldn’t get any questions.
The man narrowed his eyes before studying the computer in front of him. “Next one pulls out in thirty minutes, heading to Mobile, Alabama.” Alabama? What the hell could be in Alabama for me to do with my life? The only two things I knew about Alabama were an old Lynyrd Sknyrd song my grandfather seemed to enjoy, and their obnoxious love of their football team. What else could be there other than rednecks? “Is that what you want?” His voice rose as he tapped a greasy finger against the side of the keyboard.
I shrugged. “Yeah, sure.” I reached for my wallet as he started typing, getting my ticket ready.
“That will be sixty dollars.” My fingers trembled, shifting the money around, trying to find my twenties. I dropped the wallet and reached to pick it up, only to have my duffle bag roll off my shoulder and slam into a candy machine. “You sure you’re old enough to get this ticket alone?” he asked. He glanced behind me at a security guard.
“Just a bad night. The girlfriend threw me out of the house. You know how women are. Always freaking out when you suggest they lose a little weight.” The woman behind me let out an irritated gasp.
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