Dark Path - Full Novel


Aug 28, 2005

This book is very disturbing as it delves deep into humanitys morals and follows Christian; a twisted sadomasochist serial killer, a character created by Martin Black; writing a novel 'Dark Path'

When he starts to write the final page however; own character begins stalking him; drawing into a world of twisted toture and morals where lies a darker fate awaiting both of them.........

Please posts any thoughts or feelings you have as any comments I welcome.

It's a novel that gives you a cold hard slap in the face.

When a few people in my office read, it was as if a newtron bomb had exploded.

So decide for yourselves what Dark Path really is about:

Dark Path - by Mark Silgram copyright2005


Rain battered the windows of the small two bed room flat, as the cold November bitter wind swirled and whistled outside. Martin Black increasingly became aware of the wall clock ticking away above him. He had been checking the time every ten minutes for the last three hours and now the time on the clock read 1am. Cigarette smoke blew over the top of the type writer his fingers stubbed out a cigarette in an already overflowing ashtray. He then drank the last drop of Southern Comfort in the glass and poured himself another large measure of the golden liquid. He started to hammer the keys again as he typed away, but then he stopped, taking out the last cigarette he screwed the packet up in frustration and threw it at the type writer. He let the cigarette dangle between his lips as he turned his silver Zippo lighter over and over in his hand, his mind deep in thought. In his mind he could see his character Christian Dobbs holding a knife in his hand. What are you thinking Christian; Martin thought. What emotions are you experiencing when you bring that knife down slashing her throat? He clicked his Zippo and lit his cigarette, taking a long deep drag. Blood sprayed up Christian’s face as Martin tapped away again at the keys, his heart thumping as he blew smoke slowly out of his mouth. What are you thinking Christian? Why don’t you stop?

Although Martin had been writing now for a full solid three hours, his writing still felt wooden. Standing up he started to pace the floor, he suddenly felt tired and his head was still thumping from a sickly headache. He crossed over to the window and leaned on the window sill, exhaling smoke, watching the rain lash down through the darkness outside. Rain always helped him think; at night after when he had one of his night terrors and he started to worry that he would have another listening to the rain beating on the windows always seemed to settle him. Maybe it was the way that it reminded him of reality. Night terrors scarred the s*** out him; the really big episodes made him shake in fear and he would worry and panic for ages afterwards. During a night terror his perception of reality to him distorted like a waking dream or nightmare. He would start seeing objects, animals or insects that weren’t really there, hear people or ghosts whispering in ear his strange haunting weird s***. He would then start thrashing around wildly in bed shouting and screaming before sitting bolt upright absolutely terrified with sweat dripping down his forehead. The rain calmed him and reminded him that the real world still carried on as normal outside.

Looking through his flat window he watched a group of lads staggering around Manchester city centre oblivious to the cold rain slashing down as they staggered towards the Chinese takeaway opposite the block of flats Martin lived in. Taking another long deep drag of his cigarette, he thought back to when he first started his novel. At first he was a shy I’ll write when I’m in mood kind of writer but now as he became ever deeply drawn into Christian’s dark pysique, he hadn’t had a decent nights sleep since.
Writing at odd hours and waking up at odd times had wrecked his sleeping patterns. His night terrors had got a lot worse over the last few months and even drinking whiskey to knock him out for the night wasn’t helping. Taking a break from his novel however was out of the question. He had got so involved with his main character, he was starting to become intertwined and engrossed in him; he wanted to know more and more of what made Christian tick.

He walked back over to the table and ground his cigarette out with his thumb. Downing his second glass of Southern Comfort he decided that he needed a small break of indulgence. Rifling through the cupboard in the kitchen he found a small bottle of Couruoisier Cognac that he’d been saving for special occasions.
The crisp smooth golden liquid sloshed into the whiskey glass as Martin sank into his soft brown leather sofa. He had just put his feet up on the coffee table and flicked on the Television, when he heard banging and shouting coming from next door. Curious he opened his front door, glass of brandy still in his hand. A man that Martin didn’t recognise was being dragged out of his neighbours flat kicking shouting and swearing.
“I didn’t do it f***ing pigs, I didn’t kill her!” Martin watched from his front door as two police officers dragged the man from the flat and into the lift, as another police officer kept guard beside the door. Noticing Martin watching; the police officer walked over to him.
“Please Sir if you’d like to step back into your flat….”
“Yeah sure, but huh…I know the woman, we were kind of involved until just recently”
“In that case Sir I’d like you to step this way to identify the body.” The police officer said as Martin, Cognac sloshing in his mouth with butterflies and a sense of dread churning in his stomach followed police officer into the flat and the first thing he noticed were the forensic team combing every millimetre of the floor looking for clues. Blood streaked across the floor, as Martin walked further into the flat. That’s when he noticed the body of his ex lover lying on the floor; her neck looked like it had been repeatedly been slashed several times.
“Sir, is this the body of Miss Angela Robertson?” the police officer asked gesturing with his hand towards the body, with tears in his eyes and his mouth as dry as sand paper Martin said
“Yes, yes it is” His hand was shaking as he took a long swig of his brandy, feeling his legs turning to jelly. He wanted to run out of the flat but as he looked further at the body he noticed something that made his blood cold as a bolt of ice ran up his spine, as if in slow motion the glass slipped from his grip and shattered, the brown liquid cascaded out over the floor.
On the body of his ex lover scorched into her skin on her stomach were the initials C D.

Chapter 1

Drops of tears dropped onto the wooden floor as Christian’s collar started to itch. His tie seemed to be strangling him as a wave of blistering summer heat washed over him. At Sixteen years old there were many things he could have been doing on a hot summer day such as playing football with his mates. Instead he was watching the vicar read out a moving parable from the bible at his mother’s funeral. He couldn’t even remember how she died at the hands of her killer even though he was there when was she was brutally stabbed. Subconsciously he started to rub the stitches of the knife wound he received that night. His black trousers started to stick to him as his bum kept on sliding on the wooden church bench. He looked at his father; his eyes were bloodshot with tears rolling down his face, he looked tired very tired like he hadn’t slept for ages. His father put his arm around him clutched him tightly, .
“Christian it’s going to be okay, I’ll find and arrest the bastard that did this I promise! It’s just me and you now and we’re a team aren’t we” all Christian could do was bury his head in father’s chest and start to cry.

So ironically on a hot day, rain drummed on the roof of Peter’s car as it sped down the road. He looked at Christian worried, he hadn’t spoken all day.
“Hey Christian, you haven’t said a word all day, I know we were both supposed to be at the wake but I was thinking if you would feel more comfortable at Stephens house instead?” Christian nodded as he looked out of the window deep in thought. Although fragments of what happened the night his mother was murdered appeared to be missing from his memory, bits of that night stuck in his mind like glass. In his mind he could hear his mother screaming in shear terror, a blood gurgling scream as she crawled along the floor badly wounded, dripping with blood her hands reached for her mobile, as Christian lay against the wall, blood seeped through his fingers as he held his hand over the deep knife wound to his abdomen. Her bloody fingers fumbled with the mobile but the battery was dead.

Christian jolted back to the present as the car stopped. Still shaking he stepped out.
“Hey Christian I’ll pick you up later and then do you want to us both to watch Manchester United V Liverpool on sky? Peter said getting out of his car and walking up to Christian.
“Yeah, thanks dad”
“Hey, we’ll get through this together okay” Peter said reassuringly, putting his hand on Christians shoulder. As Christian walked up to his friend’s front door his father shouted.
“I’ll pick you up at seven, kick off is at eight!” Peter then waited until the front door opened before getting back into his car. He then started the car and drove up the road.

As a teenager maybe Christian couldn’t quite appreciate the detached house his friend Steven lived in with his mother Angela Gray and his Step father Richard Gray, but he would certainly love to live there. With a gravelled driveway that winded it’s way up to the large garage. A beautiful front garden with flowers of different kinds was on either side of a pathway leading up to the front door. At the back was a conservatory leading onto a patio which lead onto a path circling a fish pond. A perfectly cut lawn lay on either side of the pond. At the back of the garden lay a huge field that the school nearby used for cross country. A satellite dish and silver Audi 2.8 Quattro on the driveway completed the picture. They also owned a blue Ford Focus. Inside the house however was a complete mess just like the state of Angela and Richard Grays marriage. One an accountant and the other a teacher, they had met the Dobbs when Richard Gray became their accountant several years ago. Since then Stephen and Christian had become best of friends.

As Christian watched his father get back into the car, Angela opened the door in her dressing gown, her long dark brown hair dripping wet.
“Hey Christian, come on in, Stephen’s just nipped to the shop with his dad they won’t be long.” Christian followed her into the living room from the hall. He had always felt awkward and shy around his other friend’s parents but with Angela he felt comfortable like he could chat to her like an adult rather then a teenager, even though she was his English teacher at school. Their living room was large with a twenty one inch wide screen television in one corner of the room. The television stood next to a white and black marble fire place. Opposite the fire place sat a long three seat black leather sofa, with another black leather chair sitting next to the television. Christian slumped on the sofa as Angela sat on the chair.
“I’m really sorry to hear about your mother” she said as lit a cigarette taking a long deep drag. “Is there anything we can do to help?” she then crossed her legs slowly and Christian was more then a little embarrassed that he could see her pubic hair.
“No, its okay me and my dad have each other and he’s been great” Christian said trying to focus on her face while trying to hide a grin. Noticing the expression on Christian face, Angela was more amused then embarrassed that he could see under her robe, she continued pretending not to notice.
“I’m sorry to pry, but Stephen told me that you had a black out the night your mother was murdered and that you can’t remember anything; is that true?”
“Yeah it’s true, the doctor huh the doctor” Christian put his head in between his hands and started to cry, as Angela got up and sat next to him.
“Go on, it’s okay I’m here for you” she said putting her arm around him.
“The doctor said that I had such big a shock that I may never fully remember what happened” Christian said his eyes red, as Angela hugged him. As she hugged him his mind again flashed back to that night. In his mind he could hear shouting and swearing but they sounded distant and muffled.
“…..he’s just a boy you sick f***er, I’m phoning the police…..” He could see his mother as she was punched to the floor but he couldn’t see clearly her attacker. The knife slashed down.

The sound of a door slamming snapped Christian back to the present. Richard Gray walked into the living room. Christian’s posture immediately changed when his eyes came into contact with Richard’s. Richard’s eyes seemed to burrow deep into his a look of seething hatred.
“Richard, before you start he’s just come back from his own mothers funeral” Angela said getting up from the sofa and putting her arm around her husband. Richard didn’t say a word; he just walked straight out and into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. Christian relaxed again as Stephen walked in carrying the latest Nintendo game.
“Hey Chris, how’d it go today at your mums funeral?” Stephen asked kicking off his blue Nike Air max.
“Hey Ste, I’d rather not talk about it if that’s cool with you” Christian said
“Well do you wanna have a blast on this” Stephen said tapping the computer game, trying to hide his excitement bubbling up inside him. Christian got up and shrugged.
“Yeah sure, you know that I’ll whup your arse anyway!” Christian as they both started too bound up the stairs towards Stephen’s room.

Stephen’s controller slammed down for a fifth time. Whatever he did, no matter how much button bashing he did, he just couldn’t beat Christian.
“Dickhead!” he shouted at Christian before playfully punching him hard in the arm. Christian’s smug grin was all too apparent.
“Well I did tell you, dickhead!” Christian said “do you wanna play something else that you’re better at, maybe something more girlie perhaps” he said rolling on Stephens bed laughing. His was winded by a football on his stomach.
“No, let’s play football” Stephen said a grin cracking his face.

As Stephen and Christian ran downstairs they could hear violent shouting and swearing coming from downstairs in the kitchen. Curious they both tip toed towards the kitchen door and it opened the door slightly. Richard and Stephen’s mother both locked in a blazing row.
“I told you I don’t want that little dickhead in my house again!” Richard shouted
“Yeah and I told you to drop it; the accident was recorded as misadventure and he’s just lost mother, it’s been twelve months, let it f***ing go!” Angela screamed back. Christian’s heart pounded, blood rushed to his head as he started to feel sick as he realised that they were rowing about him. He was about to storm in, maybe shout at them to stop when things started to turn nasty. Richard threw the cup he was drinking against the wall and with frustration and anger burning deep in his eyes he strode up to her and grabbed her arms tightly. He started to shake her violently as he spat
“Oh and you’d love that wouldn’t you, you’d love for him to keep coming here sniffing around you, you getting wet and pouting at him when I’m at work!”
“You promised you wouldn’t bring that up again” Angela said shaking with fear tears rolling down her eyes “Well go then; do it slap, kick and punch me like you always do, but you know what I f***ing loved it!” she said her tear sodden eyes looking deep into his. Richard looked like he was about to walk away, when all of sudden he punched Angela and knocked her to the kitchen floor. He then started to kick and punch her as he shouted
“I don’t give a s*** about you anymore Angela, you’re just a cheap sick sl**; I don’t care what you say that little bastard killed my son and you know what I’m glad his f***ing mother’s dead!”

Chapter Two

Twelve months earlier

Christine Dobbs filled a stainless steel flask with boiling hot water. A light breeze filled the kitchen, the door wide open so she could hear the bird’s tweeting; the new summer’s day embracing her like a new born baby. She glanced at the cookers clock; the green LED display read 5am. Christine loved the mornings, being a romance writer for woman’s weekly she’d often got up at 5am, make a cup of Earl Gray tea and sit out in the garden typing away on her laptop with the grass swaying gently around her. This morning however she was doubly excited. Christine and her husband Peter decided to go on a camping holiday with their son Christian. Their friends Richard and Angela Gray with their two sons Stephen aged fourteen and Jake aged Fifteen; also joining them at the camp site.

Peter loaded up their silver Ford Mondeo with bags, suitcases and a tent with camping equipment. He had just closed the boot when he noticed his petite wife walking down the garden path carrying a flowery bag loaded with tea, sandwiches and biscuits for the journey with crossword puzzles and Beano comics for Christian. He watched her walking towards the car her long ginger hair gently swaying in the cool summer air. Her beauty still mesmerised him even after almost sixteen years of marriage. They had met seventeen years ago on Valentines Day in a country hotel bar. He had decided to surprise his then girlfriend and take her away on a romantic country break, not knowing that she intended to break up with him. She blurted out that she had been having an affair for months during a candle lit dinner. A blazing row followed and she stormed out the hotel and out of his life. So that’s how he found himself at nine o’clock at night sat slumped at the bar on Valentines drinking drink after drink; with a crushed heart. With a couple of sits separating them a beautiful petite woman with long ginger hair also sat slumped sipping a class of Jacobs Creek red wine scribbling away in a note book. An hour passed until they both noticed each other. A metallic clunk snapped him out of self pity, eyes scanning the floor, they eventual locked onto a silver parker pen and then on the beautiful petite woman sitting next to him, notepad open on the bar top. Cool as a, ice he bent over and shot out his hand fishing on the floor for the pen. At least that was the idea; what actually happened was he toppled over and went face first onto the floor. The stunning woman instantly offered to help him up, but at the last moment her heal had got caught in the stool leg; losing her balance she ended up on top of him still amazingly holding her glass of wine. They could almost he hear the clichéd romantic music in the background as Peter moved in for a kiss; but as their lips moved closer, freckles sprinkled across her cute face the woman hiccupped so violently her wine cascaded out onto his face and shirt. As the cold wine dripped down his chest he found himself looking deep into her bewitching emerald coloured eyes, completely captivated.

Introducing herself as she sat on his barrelled chest she suggested, that they get a taxi to her house a few miles from the hotel so he could get cleaned up. As the taxi rumbled down country lanes, they chatted for ages totally engrossed in each other. He told her how he had just finished his Police training after getting out of a dead end job as a cheque authoriser in a bank. Christine told him that she had just finished attending a writing convention at the hotel. She explained that for years she trained to become vet before finally get a job working full time at a small veterinary surgery where she lived in Taunton; but writing romance was her real passion in life and she hoped to start writing full time in the near future. The taxi stopped outside her small cottage and the driver had to do a polite cough before they stopped passionately kissing. She fumbled with her front door keys as her lips locked with his. As soon they walked into her hall they forgot all about Peters stained shirt as they began frantically tearing each other clothes. With her tongue entwined with his he carried her up the stairs.

He gently lay her down on her double bed. Her chest slowly heaving and falling as perspiration glistened on her pert breasts and hard nipples. He softly lay her down on the bed slowly kissing her, running his hands through her long ginger hair, his eyes drinking in her radiating beauty. She started to caress his long stiff pulsating c***, as his tongue explored her month. He ran his hands up and down her smooth body, her hand running up and down his shaft and swollen tip, her other hand caressing and teasing his hairy chest. He started to mould and kneed her breasts, sucking and licking her nipples as she started to moan and cry out in pleasure. He worked his way down her pouting body kissing and nippling her stomach and abdomen. His fingers running down her damp ginger pubes he parted her swollen slippery lips gently with his fingers. She whimpered with pleasure as his fingers started circling her tingling clit; her groan arching up more and more as a warm orgasm built up more and more inside, her smooth legs quivering as they closed in on his hands.
“I need you in me right now!” She gasped. He repositioned himself in between her legs, all the time his eyes deeply locked with hers. She wrapped her legs around his solid barrelled body, her hand grappling with his throbbing c*** pulling him in deep inside her. She squealed with mouth watering delight as he started to thrust deep and hard, his hands around her tiny waist; building up a rhythm. She started to drive herself upwards eagerly meeting his thrusts. His whole body wrapped around her as they seem to melt into each other, she started to bite his shoulder as an orgasm bubbled up inside her, spreading from her groan throughout her body. He drove his c*** deep inside her; feeling like it was melting inside her as he climaxed. They both slumped onto the bed breathless and speechless; their bodies limp as they each lit a cigarette. He ended up spending the entire weekend at her cottage; six months later she moved up to Manchester to be with him, getting a job in a much bigger veterinary surgery. A month later she found out she was pregnant and they got married a few months later.
“Are we ready to have breakfast?” Christine asked snapping Peter back into the present.
“Yeah, we’re ready; will you go and wake him up” Peter said as she placed the bag in the back seat of the car.

Pictures and posters of Manchester United football team lined the walls of Christian’s bedroom. An American Ice Hockey helmet of the Detroit Redwings Ice Hockey team sat pride and place on a shelf above Christian’s bed. Christian had been up for hours, he couldn’t sleep. He loved going camping and been on many a camping trip with the Scouts. He had just been playing an Ice Hockey game on his computer games console when his mother walked into the room.
“Hey, thought you were asleep, come on get dressed I’ve made you some breakfast downstairs.

Christine poured fresh orange juice to into her glass as Peter gave Christian a flick knife engraved with his initials Peter bought for him for the holiday. He wanted to show Christian how to make a real bow. He knew that he’d be responsible enough to use one properly and safely and plus he had one when he was in the Scouts his age. Christine disagreed strongly about giving him a knife and they had many arguments about it. She hated guns, violence and knifes and felt continually disgusted with what see read in newspapers and seen on the television. This was just one of the things Peter loved about her; she was so warm and caring with an exceptionally good heart. But he had argued the fact that he was a Police officer and had therefore had seen and intervened in many brutal fights and deep down he wanted Christian to use the knife if it came down to it in self defence. Eventually she had relented; knowing that if he ever came to god forbid any violent situations her mind was put a little at ease that he had some sort of protection.

The camp site in Snowdonia North Wales was full of tents and caravans when they had eventually arrived hours later. Trees and woodland surrounded the large field the campsite was situated on. The owner of the fields lived in a large farmhouse with barns and sheds; he earned extra money other then farming from renting out his fields and selling gas canisters to the campers.

Peter cursed under is breath a second time as the tent fell down again. Christine and Christian watched from the car laughing. As Christian ran up to his dad offering to help, Christine couldn’t help noticing just how much he was beginning to look like his father. Although he had her green eyes and pointy noise; his sandy coloured hair and beefy athletic build could definitely be attributed to his father. Even at fifteen and half years of age he already towered over her; although she was just five feet tall. Just as they were about to get up and help a blue Ford Focus with suitcases and a tent tied to the roof rack rolled to a stop next to theirs. Richard Gray stepped out, black shades shielding his eyes for the scorching hot morning sun. He walked up to Peter a huge grin spreading on his face, as Jake and Stephen ran up behind him.
“Hey thought you two had been in the boy scouts!” Richard said laughing picking up a tent pole.
“Oh and I suppose you’ve put up hundreds of these things” Peter said as Jake and Stephen picked up two tent pegs and started having a sword fight. Angela and Christine stood next to the car smoking watching with amusement as all four of them struggled to put up the family sized tent.
“Your son’s beginning to look like his father every time I see him” Angela said smoke curling out her mouth, watching Christian hammer away at the tent pegs. She continued “I can see that he will be a very good looking young man when he gets older, whoever he marries will be one lucky woman”
“He better be; I did make him myself” Christine said with a laugh, as a wave a summer heat blew over them.

On a cloudless clear night stars shone down on the four of them as they sat drinking bottles of Stella, feet up smoking as curry bubbled away on a camping stove. Peter had been more then a little generous with the curry powder, even though he knew that Christine wasn’t really fond of spicy food but he was egged on by Angela and Richard who loved Indian food and liked their curry hot, white hot. Christine couldn’t enjoy food that felt like someone had poured petrol in her mouth and lit it with a match, but she could eat creamy mild curry. Pity it wasn’t a good chowmein she thought, she loved Chinese food and was self confessed noodle addict; her and Peter regularly had a Chinese takeaway on a Friday night after Peter knocked off work. Thinking of food however couldn’t take her mind off the worry that built up inside her; the children had been playing football in a nearby field for ages.
“Think I’ll check on the kids” she said standing up.
“Christine, there fine, I checked on them an hour ago and Jake told me to get off the pitch you old fart” Peter said with a laugh, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Angela got up and started swaying, her boozy breath almost intoxicating Christine as she breathed over her.
“I’ll go and check on them, if you like” she slurred. Christine looked at her; Angela’s eyes were glazed over.
“No, like Peter said I’m sure it will be okay”

The rain was lashing heavily and by the time they had found the barn they were completely drenched. They had managed to sneak under a hole in the rotten wooden door. The Rain dripped through holes in the roof as rats scurried around dirty rusting gas canisters. A pool of sticky black oil seeped around rusty drums of oil forming pool oil around stacks of hay. Jake climbed up a ladder that lead onto a second level filled full with straw, Stephen and Christian following him.
“You better have got the cigarette and lighter from you mum, Christian” Jake said taking out a bloke of weed from his coat pocket and a packet of cigarette papers.
“Yeah I got them J” Christian said taking out his mums silver Zippo lighter and king size Embassy cigarette.
“Cool, let’s smoke this s***” Jake said lighting the weed and crumbled bits of into a cigarette paper, the sweet smell of cannabis filling their nostrils as lighting flashed through a single dirty window.
“Look guys I think we better get back, mum and dad are going to be furious with us” Stephen said getting up as Jake rolled the joint.
“Hey where you going little s***, don’t you want any this” Jake said clicking the Zippo, a yellow flame started to lick the flint.
“Let him go” Christian said as Stephen starting climb down the ladder.
“He’s not f***ing going anywhere, I’ve already been grounded once this month thanks to that little s***, he’s always running off and telling mummy and daddy” Jake said dropping the Zippo before jumping down from the platform diving onto his brother wrestling him to the ground.
“Hey dickhead let him go” Christian shouted jumping from the platform onto Jake. He didn’t notice the Zippo still aflame as it starting burn the dry straw as the three of them rolled around on the damp oily floor fighting.

The rain and wind battered the large family sized tent as Peter, Christine and Richard played cards. Angela had been knocking them back since lunch and now she was pissed up and asleep in her sleeping bag. Peter gritted his teeth as Richard won again at Poker; he now had a huge stack of matchsticks. He could also see him eyeing up Christine’s pert little bottom as she got up to open a bottle of red wine for herself while they drank bottles of Stella. The wine sloshed into a huge a wineglass, as Peter and Richard slammed down another bottle.
“Hey look what’s got into you two, it’s not race you know” Christine said a beaming smile spreading across her face. Behind his plastic smile, she could sense that Peter was getting more and more frustrated with Richard’s behaviour. He wasn’t that he was a sore loser but he didn’t like braggers and show-offs; and Richard constantly made a huge song and dance every time he won, saying that he used this strategy and that strategy saying that with a grin cracking his face he knew exactly how to play the game. She could she that the more Peter tried to beat him the more he got frustrated and annoyed when Richard won. Christine could sense an unspoken rivalry building up between them, every since Richard became their accountant and they became best friends with him and Angela, especially since Peter found out not so long ago that her and Richard had a holiday romance when they were both in Mexico a year before her and Peter first met.
“I’m going to go and look for the kids” Christine said taking a large swig of wine.
“I’ll go with you, I could with do some fresh air” Richard said getting up. Peter put a hand on his shoulder as he said
“No, its okay Richard I’ll go with her, besides it’s blowing a storm at there, you’d better stay here and look after Angela.” Christine breathed a big sigh before saying
“Look why don’t we all go, I’m sure Angela’s will be fine for half an hour” Christine said zipping up her leather coat.

Peter held Christine’s hand and kept on kissing every now just to show Richard that she was his as the three of them walked down a muddy dirt track, with huge oak trees either side of them. They had checked the field next to the camp site where the kids had been playing football, the worry bubbled up inside Christine and her stomach churned when they found that Jake, Christian and Stephen weren’t there. She was also getting increasingly irritated at Peter rubbing the fact that she was with him in his face. They were about to turn down another path when they noticed smoke billowing into the air not far away. Maybe it was a mother’s instinct, but she had a sickening feeling that Christian and the other two kids maybe there.

Plumes of flames and smoke licked at the barn. Thick black smoke spiralled in the air as Christian dragged Stephen’s unconscious body out of the barn coughing like a forty a day chain smoker. Christian, Peter and Richard came running up him.
“Where’s Jake Christian, where the f*** is he?” Richard shouted as he ran up to him and shook him.
“He’s still inside” Christian sobbed as he coughed, tears saturating his face.
“Jake!” Richard shouted running up to the barn, as it shockingly and suddenly exploded throwing all four of them to the ground, as pieces of burning wood flew over the top of them. Struggling to his feet Richard scrambled over to the burning barn as fire engines with their horns blaring came skidding to a halt beside them.
“Oh god please no, please god no, Jake!” Richard shouted as fire fighters held him back. Firemen with hoses rushed into the barn as Christian buried his face into his mother’s chest, he opened his hand and a metal object dropped to the ground.
“What did you do, what the f*** did you do” Richard shouted at Christian. Half an hour later, Stephen and Christian was lifted into an ambulance on a stretcher. Richard and Christine climbed into the ambulance after them. Peter was about to follow, when he stooped and picked up the object that Christian had dropped. The object was a flick knife; his blood ran cold when he noticed that the knife was dripping with blood.

Chapter Three

Martin Black stepped out of the shower dabbing himself down with a towel, naked he sprayed Gillette shaving foam onto his hands and started to apply it to his face. Realising his shaving mirror steamed up he rinsed his hands with warm water and dried the mirror with a towel. Flashes of the night before; his dead ex lover lying with her throat slashed in a pool of her own blood. Seeing his characters initials burnt into her body disturbed him and he was violently sick several times afterwards. After having a petrifying night terror he had to convince himself so he could get back too sleep, that the initials were just a coincidence, just meaningless random letters nothing to do with him. He could hear gambled voices coming from the living room as he started to shave with a Gillette Mach 3 Turbo. The mirror steamed up again, he reached up for the towel again but before he could wipe the glass he noticed two initials in the steam; C D. He put his hands too his face and started too scream, but no sound came out of his mouth. With panic spreading through his body he franticly turned the cold tap on, and started splashing his face with cold water. Water dripping from his face as in slow motion he lifted his head up and looked up into the mirror again, with gut wrenching terror Christian’s face covered in blood screaming at him. He raced over to the door to the bathroom, but it was locked. When he did finally open the door it swung inwards with such force that he fell backwards into the bath, his best friend Craig Carter stood in the doorway his hands dripping with blood clutching a knife buried in his chest, sheer pain etched in his face. He lunched at Martin, his fingers clawing at his face as the bathroom exploded into a white light. Martin bolted up in his bed screaming clawing at the walls, sweat dripping from his face. He jumped out of bed and reached for his cigarettes, his hand a blur as he desperately tried too light his cigarette making a vow to himself never to fall asleep again.

A cloud of steam followed Martin as he stepped out of the bathroom in a long dark blue robe, his unruly hair dripping wet. His stomach churned, his head feeling woozy from drinking too much whiskey the night before; he really need coffee! He crossed through the living room, and into the kitchen. Taking out two pieces of wholemeal brown bread he popped them into the chrome toaster, while flicking on the matching coffee maker. The smell of filtering fresh roasting coffee filled his nostrils. He then crossed over to the coffee table in the living room and picked up yesterdays newspaper. He bent over the cream coloured kitchen worktop scanning the headlines, a few moments later the toast popped up. He spread anchor cream butter over the hot toast still reading the front page as the butter melted into the burnt bread. He poured the black coffee into a cup, and took both the toast on a plate and the steaming black coffee over to the round mahogany dining table. He mussed over an article he’d just read in the paper while he eat his toast, titled: Thirty’s the new Twenty’s; how people in their early thirty’s still not married or settled down, still living with their parents and having double the amount of money for leisure than when they were in their twenty’s.
He started to think about his own life; aged thirty five working as a freelance Journalist; writing his novel at night, drinking with his friends Craig Thompson and his wife Michelle, meals out with his girlfriend Sarah. Finishing his toast he took out a Park Road cigarette and lit it with his silver Zippo; inhaling deeply he further mused before walking over to his writing desk in the living room sitting down he started too read his novel.

He had just read up too the barn exploding when Craig; his temporary flat mate since he had a massive row with Michelle a week ago walked into the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist, his short jet black hair dripping wet.
“s***, how long have you been up” Craig said coughing “and how many of those things have you smoked” he swotted the smoky haze.
“I’ve been up since five; couldn’t sleep doesn’t help when your next door neighbour is slaughtered, her throat in shreds” Martin said without looking up, cigarette dangling in his mouth as he carried on typing. The colour drained from Craig’s face.

“Oh my god s*** when did it happen? Have they catched the sick bastard that did it? He said his hand shaking that much that when he tried to pour coffee into his cup, the coffee cascaded out over the table.
“Yeah they hauled a young lad kicking and screaming out of her flat last night” Martin said still not looking up, smoke curling out of his mouth.
“That reminds me when are you, going to make up with Michelle since you hate the smoky atmosphere”
“Look just leave okay, I’m not the one who started it”
“She’s eight month’s pregnant isn’t she, bound to be a bit snappy give her a break”
“I said drop it, can’t even believe that your given me relationship advice from a man who’s longest relationship with a woman is up to now three month’s, how is Sarah by the way; has she finished her homework yet?” Martin should have ignored the dig, but he whirled round
“She may be a Uni student but she’s more mature then your being at the moment you big girl” Martin said flatly “I taped the Detroit Red Wings against Colorado Avalanche; thought we could down some cans get pissed and watch Colorado get slaughtered; sound good? Martin said changing the subject.
“Sounds good to me; you just know that I’ll be an electrifying game, Colorado will win!” Craig said with a sly smile taking a swig from his coffee. He walked then walked into his bedroom.
“Haven’t got that date tonight with Sarah?” he heard Craig shout through the door.
“s***, your right; sorry mate but you haven’t got t***, I’m going to have to leave the game until tomorrow night” Martin shouted back.

Fifteen minutes later, Craig dashed out of his room wearing a shirt, tie black trousers and suit.
“s***, s***; s*** I’m so late for work” he muttered to himself looking at his gold Timex watch with a dark blue numberless dial. He slammed a piece of white bread into the toaster.
“Thought you were late for work” Martin stated slightly irritated, his fingers flying over the keys reaching a crescendo.
“I never go out in the morning with having something to eat and drink, and besides you’re a cup of your disgusting super strong coffee doesn’t count” Craig said reaching into the cupboard and pulling out a bag of Lady Grey tea. A few minutes later the toast popped up, and Craig spread a thin layer of Floria light and took a bite as left the tea bag to stew. Piece of toast still in his hand he dashed back into the bathroom to gel his hair. The bathroom still damp from his shower he noticed the shaving mirror still steamed up. He wanted to use the towel to wipe the mirror but he noticed the only towel lay in a puddle on the laminate flooring, so he decided just to brush his teeth instead. Martin tried to dislodge a piece of paper that had got caught up in his typewriter, a dangling cigarette in his mouth burning away almost reaching the filter as he heard Craig shout out from the bathroom
“By the way, I heard screaming and shouting coming from your room last; now either your were torturing a woman or you were having one of your night terrors” he heard Craig laughing as he whirled out of his chair and ran into the bathroom white hot seething anger bubbling up inside him. Craig whipped round shock and confusion on his face as Martin roughly grabbed him and slammed him against the bathroom wall.
“Don’t bring that s*** up again, not ever again!” Martin shouted at him, his face turning red, breathing heavily.
“Okay….okay Martin chill out will you, I was only messing around; sorry okay” Craig said looking Martin straight into his eyes, a toothbrush comically protruding out of his mouth.
“Sorry mate, it’s just what happened last night seeing my dead neabour laying there on the floor in a pool of her own blood; really shook me up and I had two really chilling night terrors last night, so can you please do me a favour don’t mention them again, friends again?” Martin said his anger evaporating as he held out his hand; deciding not to mention the initials that were burnt into his dead ex lover body.
“Yeah sure Martin, again I’m very sorry; mates for life yeah” Craig said shaking Martins hand before dashing out of the bathroom. Martin slumped over the sink exasperated hearing the front door close a moment later.

It could have been half an hour that had passed since Craig had left or maybe it was an hour, hearing the front close woke Martin up; still slumped at the sink. Wearily he gingerly pulled himself up and strode into the living room head pounding with a sickly headache. He found Sarah, riffling between the seats of his sofa, completely flustered. He stood watching, she wasn’t aware that her. He had met her three month’s ago while he was still with Angela. In a warped way he did actually think she was almost the spitting image of Angela; just a younger version. Or more accurately he was shagging her daughter.

Even though they had been going out now for three month she already had a key to his flat. Watching her, she still didn’t notice that he was standing right behind her.

He remembered how they met; he was writing an article on college students and the dumping down exams for a national tabloid paper. He had interviewed many students that morning; but one stood out Sarah, eighteen years old, dark brown hair, tall with long smooth tanned legs barely covered; by a very short demin skirt, her breasts not quite covered by her low cut silk white top she was wearing. She constantly flirted with him during the interview; he found her deliciously attractive and her bubbly chatty personality infectious. They had bumped into each in a bar in Manchester that night, the same one he and Angela were drinking at. It had took him at least half an hour to get to the bar from where they sat the place was that crowded. Just when the barman had handed him the drinks he ordered; he span around that fast that he almost knocked Sarah to the floor, knocking the drink out of her hand. Vodka and Redbull splashed up Sarah’s legs as she snapped her head round looking like she was about to jump down the bastards fault, but when she noticed it was him; her body posture and attitude changed. He apologised and went to give her a kiss on the cheek, but he missed and his lips hit hers. They passionately kissed before Sarah grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd.
“Come on lets get out of here” she said weaving them through the throng. Like being squeezed out of a tube of toothpaste they finally managed to scramble out of the bar’s entrance. They both ran, Martin struggling to catch his breath.
“My….apartment….is…just…” he gulped a snatch of air as his lungs burned “round….the….corner” he said noticing a pert arse under a tight skirt as they ran past a group of women. Sarah pulled him along as they weaved through the streets of Manchester, until finally they came to a parked dark blue BMW convertible.
“I’ve got a better idea” Sarah said rummaging through her handbag before finally bringing out her car keys. “My daddy bought me this car for my eighteenth; get in” she said unlocking the door and jumping in.
“Nice, very nice” Martin said truly impressed climbing into the passenger seat. “But you shouldn’t really drink and drive” he said putting his seat belt on.
“That Vodka and Redbull was going to be my first drink” She said smiling looking deep into his green eyes as she started the engine. As they roared through the streets of Manchester, Martin was thankful of the late warm summer night air. They hit countryside two hours later after they furiously chatted non-stop; winding country roads twisted into the darkness that enveloped trees on either side. The BMW came screeching to a halt down a small dirt track just off the country lane surrounded by tree and tall grass. The smell of burnt petrol filling their nostrils as they both looked deep into each others eyes, Martin running his fingers through her long dark brown hair. Stars shown down on the opened top BMW; every now and then cars sped by. Any one of the drivers that drove passed them might have noticed Sarah’s fingers clawing at Martin’s naked back and hammering buttocks as they romped.

Sarah jumped as she span around clutching a mobile phone noticing Martin behind her; snapping him back to the present.
“Oh my god, you scarred the s*** out of me” she said running hands around his waist “I forgot my mobile; when I was in Ibiza I was lost without it”
“Oh so you missed your mobile more than me” Martin said with a sly smile, kissing her soft warm lips.
“Yeah I missed you; that’s why I came straight over from daddy’s, so we can have a quickie before I go to college” she said running hands down her body and into his jeans.
He started to have a conversation with his mind, the voice in his head was saying: She doesn’t know about her mother yet, if you tell her you probably won’t be having sex for months. There’s always Laura, Martin argued back. However his mind counter argued; Laura’s going travelling in Australia for three months remember. Your right Martin agreed although Laura’s infinitely more hotter; Sarah lets us do stuff that we can only dream about doing to Laura and besides she won’t be around for much longer; I won’t tell Sarah for now. As she started to unbutton his shirt they kissed passionately his tongue entwining with hers. She pulled away and said, a twinkle in her brown baby seal eyes
“So you have missed me then”
“I’ve been aching and pining for you every day” Martin said unbuttoning her bra before starting to lead her into his bedroom.
“No, lets do it here” Sarah said pulling him on top of her as she lay back on the on his soft brown leaver sofa “By the way, did anything happen while I’ve been away” she said kissing his smooth chest.
“No, not really” Martin said flatly with wry smile still fighting with his mind before deciding to definitely not to tell her yet as they passionately kissed again.

Chapter 4

The banners on the wall read Happy Sixteenth Birthday Christian amongst silver and gold Christmas decorations. A large Christmas tree oozing warm traditional seasonal values; sat pride and place in the corner of the living room with pine needles scattered around it. Amongst the usual plastic bells, bows and pine cones dangled candy canes and chocolates in the shape of Santa’s, snowmen and Christmas trees. Presents in peculiar shapes and creative wrapping surrounded the tree.

Smoke from the candles wafted towards the ceiling as Christian made a wish.
“What did you wish for Christian?” Peter asked with a curious smile, but Christine put her hand on his lips and said
“No, don’t tell him, if you tell then your wish won’t come true” the twinkle in Christian’s eyes soon faded however.
“I wished that the kids in my class would stop picking on me; they keep calling me names blaming me for happened to Jake” Christian said. Peter put his hand on his son’s arm and asked softly
“What kind of names do they call you Christian?”
“They keep calling me a psycho; chanting that I killed Jake and that you’re a bent cop for covering it all up by setting fire to the barn” Peter looked hard into Christian tearful eyes and said
“Listen to me Christian, what you did was very brave, you rescued Stephen and saved his life, and both me and your mother are very proud of you; never forget that!” Christine gave him a long hug and kissed him on his cheek
“It’s been six months since the accident and Stephen still won’t talk to me” Christian said.
“Stephen will come around in time, you’ll see; I’m sure you will both be best friends again in time” Christine said tenderly.
“Now, go and get dressed in your smart cloths” she put emphasise on the word smart “Your friends and Angela will be arriving in an hour for your birthday party”

The door bell rang as Christian just finished throwing on his silk cream shirt. He could hear muffled voices as he started to gel his wavy sandy coloured hair, he gelled for two reasons, first strands of his hair constantly kept getting into his eyes, and the other was more for vanity.

Angela Gray stood in the hallway with her fury hooded Parka covered in snow.
“You look frozen Angela” Christine said as they walked into the living room, trying not to notice the bruises on her face “how come you didn’t take the car?”
“Richard’s stop me from using it, he blew up when I had a tiny crash the other week” Angela said as Peter walked in with some eggnog for her.
“His he still heavily drinking” Peter gently asked passing her the glass of the creamy coloured liquid, Christine igniting their real coal fire. Angela looked away ashamed. For the first three months after the fire; neither family spoke until Angela ever the peace maker made contact in tears one drunken night and after that the three of them started to speak again.
Since then relations between the three started to thaw, Angela keeping her visits a secret from her husband. Richard blamed Christine for Jakes death even though he saved Stephens life. A week before the court hearing, he bumped into Peter in the local pub, a blazing row had sparked up between them; Richard punched Peter in the face sending him flying over a table. Peter arrested him and threw him in a Police cell over night to cool off. He let him go the next day without charge hoping it would be the end of the matter, but by the look on Angela’s face and the bruises things had got a lot worse. Richard’s bitter anger had also spread to Stephen when one night he had pelted their windows with eggs.

Christian jumped down the last few steps of the stairs as Peter and Christian started to zip up their matching heavy duty winter coats.
“Thanks once again for supervising the party tonight Angela, I should be back by eleven at the latest. Christine said as Christian walked into the room. She still felt guilty about leaving Christian on his Sixteenth birthday but the editor of Woman’s weekly called an emergency meeting.
“It’s fine, I love being here well when you told me that Peter’s also working a late shift tonight at the Police I couldn’t exactly leave Christian here on his own on his Sixteenth birthday now could I”
“Well we owe you a drink” Christine said giving Angela a hug before her and Peter walked into the porch putting on their shoes. Angela walked up to Christian bent down and kissed him on the lips.
“Happy Sixteenth Birthday Christian, I’ve a got a present for you, but I’ll give it to you later” She said with a smile, her warm lips lingering on his perhaps a little too long.
“Hey like your hair, suits you” She said running her hands through spiky gelled hair
The front door closed as she slowly unzipped her Parka, revealing her ample bosom almost bursting out of her low cut long black silk dress.

Music thumped out of the state of the art stereo system as both Angela and Christian sat on the soft brown leather sofa waiting for his friends to show. An hour had passed but none of his so called friends had shown. She spotted the drinks cabinet.
“Hey lets crack open the booze” She said with sly smile.

Snow fell outside as the coal fire blazed away. Christian circled his glass of Martini and lemonade deep as he sat on the sofa watching the Christmas lights twinkling away. The toilet flushed and a moment later Angela walked into the room, a bit tipsy as she staggered over to the Stereo to put on another CD.
“Look its okay you can go. It’s pretty obvious that all my friends hate me and I don’t need a nanny you know” He said looking up at her, his eyes glazed over as his heart felt like lead. Soft music spread across the room like invisible silk.
“Stephen just needs to realise; how much of a good guy you really are, and he will, he really will in time” She said putting her arm around him. Biting his lip he fought the urge to cry as he felt a lump in his throat; his breath almost becoming a whisper.
“But It’s such a mess; look something else happened that night something that I’m not proud of, something that if….” he hiccupped cutting himself off as Martini splashed over his parents laminate flooring.
“Oh s***” he said running off to the kitchen to get a cloth. He finished wiping the floor and found himself looking up at Angela sitting on the sofa. She found her eyes immersing deeper and deeper into his; looking deep into to his soul.
“Look, you saved my sons life and for that I thank you with all my heart” She said leaning forward, the space between their lips closing fast until she could almost feel his breath on her face.
“Not all people hate you, I certainly don’t. I know what you did. In fact when your mum asked me to come over tonight I jumped at the chance, and do you want to know why”
“I already know” he said as their lips touched. He pulled her off the sofa and they seemed to melt into one another on soft grey and white rug. Christian struggled with the urge to get some air as they passionately kissed their lips revolving around each others. They broke away as they felt the fire almost melting their face.
“It doesn’t bother you then that I’m with Richard” she said running her hands through his hair.
“The guy’s a dickhead, he should be proud that he’s got you as a wife”
“Thanks, Happy Christmas Christian” Angela said pulling him up and leading him to the hall. They laughed and giggled all the way up the stairs, they got to Christian’s bedroom when he stopped and looked at her.
“Hey you mentioned my birthday present earlier” She didn’t say a word as she kissed him , a wry smile cracking her face as they walked into his room and closed the door. If anyone had been stood outside his room they might have heard him say.
“Oh, so that’s my birthday present!”

The front door closed and Christine walked into the hall, her eyes tired. When she had dreamt all those years ago of becoming a writer, she hadn’t realised all the hard work and the complexity of being a writer. She rubbed her eyes as she walked into the kitchen kicking of her high heal shoes. Flicking on the kettle she pulled out a bag of herbal tea. She then put two rounds of thick whole meal slices of bread into the toaster. She poured boiling water into a china cup with swirling Chinese patterns and started to dunk the bag as she heard giggling coming from upstairs. Curious she walked towards the hall to investigate. She started to walk up the stairs as the giggling stopped. She opened the door to Christian’s bedroom and found Angela and her son on his bed, flustered and breathing heavily.

Windscreen wipers screeched as snow built up on the Audi 2.8 Quattro windscreen as it sped down the high street. Richard’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes glazed over and bloodshot. He struggled to keep the four door saloon under control as the wheels kept on skidding on the snow covered road. The smell of booze in the car from Richard’s breath could have, stun an Ox. His eyes seemed to be fixated on the road, but his mind was else where. Angela had slipped out too many times before; this time he thought he will put his foot down, literally if he had too.
He had become so convinced that she was playing away; that images of her having sex with his ex best friend Peter flashed through his mind. The more he thought about her in different positions with him, her moaning and groaning as he worked himself up into a sweat the more eat up he got and the more pissed off he got. Right now his teeth that clenched that only a crow bar could open them. It wasn’t the first time that she cheated on him and he broke her jaw the last time. Even when they had met, she had cheated on her then boyfriend with him. At first one of the many things he had loved about her was the fact that she was so dirty and had a libido to power America. They had met twenty years ago in college; they had both been studying Maths. Friends at first, they found that they each had a strong passion for mathematics, music and the arts. Many nights after college had finished they’d go to the pub round the corner; chatting non-stop until closing time, then carrying on drinking tequila slammers at her boyfriends flat. It wasn’t until her boyfriend started to work nights that they started to grow closer and closer, until one night Angela and her boyfriend had a huge row and he stormed out leaving her in tears. She had asked him over, and poured her heart out to him over a bottle of vodka. They a shared a passionate kiss, throwing themselves into it for hours into their jaws ached. They ended up having sex through out that night on the sofa and in her boyfriend’s bed. For good few months afterwards they carried as if nothing had happened, he believing that that one night had been a; revenge shag. But when he started dating her best friend, Angela got jealous and upset over his relationship with her. The night she dumped her boyfriend, they ending up having a massive argument in their local pub and they both screamed out, their love for one another. Soon after he split up with her best friend and that was the start of his and Angela’s rollercoaster of a relationship, almost nine months later however Angela’s best friend walked back into his life with his child, Jake; and they split up soon after. They met again twelve months later a students new years eve party deciding to give their relationship another go if even though Angela now had a two month old baby; Stephen.

Christine walked further into Christian’s room; Angela and Christian both whipped their heads round. A computer fighting game paused on the telly.
“Hey, what happened to your party” she said with a warm smile. Angela placed a hand on Christian’s shoulder.
“No one showed so we cracked open a bottle Martini and Christian decided to tan my arse on this stupid thing” Angela said gesturing towards the games console, with her other hand, a computer controller resting on her lap “I hope you don’t mind; letting him have a drink”
“No, no it’s fine; he’s had a drink with me and his father before now, I believe that I’d rather he drink in the safety of this house rather then on the streets”
“Well, my fingers are absolutely arching now” Angela said shaking her hand “we’ve been button bashing for hours; but I’ve got to admit your son certainly knows, how to press all the right buttons!” she said winking at Christian with a twinkle in her eyes.

Peter was just putting his key into his front door lock, as the silver Audi sliced through the snow and came skidding to halt outside his house. Peter groaned when he noticed who it was. Richard stepped out his face like thunder, and staggered up the driveway.
“Where is she hey, not content shagging your own wife, you have to start having mine; don’t you” Richard spat, pointing a finger right in Peter’s face
“Well it’s not on, it’s not f***ing on!” Richard said swaying. Peter sighed, he didn’t need this; he had a long night with gangs of lads in fights, drunks throwing up and being aggressive, all he wanted right now was to be with his loving wife and son.
“Go home Richard, your pissed and making a fool of yourself, go home before I do something I’ll regret” Peter said wearily rubbing his tired eyes.
“Do what hey Peter, nick me like you did last time so you can go on shagging my wife; well I like to see you try” Richard said taking a swing at Peter. His reflexes razor sharp Peter ducked grabbed Richard’s arm and twisted behind his back; he then roughly bumbled him down the driveway opened the door to Richard’s car and shoved him roughly inside before shouting
“Stay away from me and my family or I’ll do more then arrest you next time!” Richard started his car but driving off he shouted back
“You know what Peter; your wife certainly didn’t spit when she was in Mexico with me!” Richard laughed before he smashed his foot down on the accerator, and his car roared back up the road.

The sound of crying awoke Christian from a dreamless sleep. Curious he threw on a pair of boxers and went to investigate. The sobbing came from the spare room. He opened the door and switched on the light, Angela was sat on the bed in just her bra and black silky knickers, she looked up at him, her mascara had run that much that her eyes resembled those of a panda. She didn’t say anything as she buried her head into his chest.

Chapter Five

Martin ran his fingers through his ruffled hair as he read the last paragraph he had just written. Thoughts bolted though his mind; did Angela seduce Christian? Knowing that he fancied her, letting him toy with her or did Christian really seduce Angela; playing with her emotions knowing that she burned for him and what she believed him to be a good guy who saved her son. But even this Martin knew was a bit misleading as he believed Angela chose to ignore her own instincts that something else happened in the barn on that fateful night and that Christian was involved. He closed his eyes an unlit cigarette in his mouth; a distant ringing sound interrupted his mind plunging further into the relationship between Angela and Christian. As he scrambled for his phone; he already knew who was ringing, Sarah phoning to remind him of having dinner to tonight.

Piano music played in the background of the Italian bar/restaurant Martin and Sarah sat in. Sarah hummed quietly to herself as she read the menu considering what to have. Martin lit a cigarette as he mused, the restaurant was that exclusiv


Aug 28, 2005
Dark Path - full novel,

Chapters 5 - 11

Chapter Five

Martin ran his fingers through his ruffled hair as he read the last paragraph he had just written. Thoughts bolted though his mind; did Angela seduce Christian? Knowing that he fancied her, letting him toy with her or did Christian really seduce Angela; playing with her emotions knowing that she burned for him and what she believed him to be a good guy who saved her son. But even this Martin knew was a bit misleading as he believed Angela chose to ignore her own instincts that something else happened in the barn on that fateful night and that Christian was involved. He closed his eyes an unlit cigarette in his mouth; a distant ringing sound interrupted his mind plunging further into the relationship between Angela and Christian. As he scrambled for his phone; he already knew who was ringing, Sarah phoning to remind him of having dinner to tonight.

Piano music played in the background of the Italian bar/restaurant Martin and Sarah sat in. Sarah hummed quietly to herself as she read the menu considering what to have. Martin lit a cigarette as he mused, the restaurant was that exclusive and expensive that the menu didn’t have prices on; it had taken him a month to get a table, and you could only get through the doors if you happened know someone who’s a member in this case Craig’s father a Masonic member. Even the waiters walked around in expensive matching suits.
“Err I think…I’ll….have the pepperoni with extra cheese” Sarah said with a smile licking her lips.
Martin almost laughed
“You do realise you can have anything you want, I mean literally anything on the menu” he said with an exasperated look on his face “I mean it’s not ‘Daves Big Pizza’s’ you go to with your college mates, on a Saturday night you know” Martin said still laughing but actually offended, as a waiter came over to their table. They ordered two pizzas with some fancy Italian name, but they were actually just pepperoni with extra macaroni cheese.
“I was thinking….” Martin said as the waiter scooted off “I’d love to take you away next weekend, up for it” he said taking a slug from his single malt whiskey. Sarah considered this thoughtfully sipping her white wine.
“Depends where” she shrugged, Martin’s cigarette smoke blowing over her.
“Wales, a cottage deep in the country, honestly Sarah it’s beautiful up there. Overlooking a lake, the cottage itself is surrounded by a forest; no one for miles around, it will just be and you, what do you say?” Martin said stumbling his cigarette out blowing smoke out of his nostrils.
“Yeah sure” Sarah said shrugging.

The candle on Sarah and Martin’s table burned and flickered as they fed each other pizza. The conversation flowed furiously between them covering various topics including writing, arts and music. They both found that they had a love of Indie music and Martin promised to take Sarah to the forthcoming Travis concert. Soaps also came up and they both agreed that in Eastenders; Martin Kemp’s character Steve Owen was the best and intriguing character in recent years before he was killed off a couple of years ago in 2002. This conversation then lead on to films and the subject of Martin’s favourite British film came up; The Krays. This conversation then lead onto their love of dark gritty films and Sarah’s favourite file; an all time classic: Pulp Fiction. Martin just finished paying the bill; figuring giving a rather generous tip might earn him extra brownie points with Sarah; when they heard shouting coming from near the door as they both drank cappuccino. Martin turned his head round; a man wearing a white shirt and blue denim wash Levis jeans was shouting the odds, a waiter tried to calm him down saying
“I’m really sorry sir, but this area is restricted to members and guests only, can you please…” but the rather timid waiter was cut off
“I don’t give a s*** if it is members only, the bar upstairs is not so why should I…” the man shouted slurring his words looking around the restaurant. Martin thought he recognised the man from somewhere but he couldn’t place it. He became aware that Sarah was talking to him but her voice sounded distant, as he listened intently to what this man was shouting about when suddenly he started pointing a finger vaguely in Martins direction.
“Wa…wait a minute…I know that guy” the man was saying as two bouncers started to walk in his direction, as he started to stagger seemingly towards a now bewildered Martin as Sarah still rambled on, still slurring he violently shouted
“…yeah I definitely know him, he used to go to my school, he’s the bastard that….” He was cut off when the bouncers jumped on him, picked him up and bundled him kicking and shouting through a door. Sarah completely oblivious still kept on yapping
“…so after downing ten tequila slammers…ending up pissed sleeping in my daddy’s garden…” she laughed “…dog licking my face” but Martin wasn’t listening as got up and slung his soft leather jacket on. Sarah looked up confusion and concern etched on her face as she said
“Hey, what’s up are you okay, you look worried” she started to button up her fake fur coat as Martin said
“No, no I’m fine, just got a headache that’s all, I’m going to get to bed eary; look I’ll call you taxi for you”
“Oh, oh okay then” Sarah said as Martin dialled a number on his Sony Ericsson E700i mobile phone. It had started to rain outside as Sarah stepped into a black taxi
“Hey are you getting in” she said, the taxi’s door wide open as told the driver her address
“No, no I’m going to walk; besides my apartments just round the corner and I could do with some fresh air, I’ll give you a ring” he said slamming the taxi door. The rain lashed down violently as Sarah’s taxi pulled away.

Martin could hardly see as the cold bitter rain washed down his face. His jacket that drenched that if someone were to squeeze his jacket a wave of water might drown and submerge the city he lived in. As Martin walked towards his apartment he became oblivious deep of the throng of drunken idiots staggering through the dirty streets of Manchester city centre deep in thought. He almost knocked into a drunk throwing up in the middle of the street; the drunk’s sick actually sloped down Martin’s leather jacket. But still Martin didn’t care he just kept on thinking about the guy mouthing off in the restaurant; he didn’t think that he knew him but his face was kind of familiar, maybe he used to bully Martin at school or maybe Martin bullied him, he couldn’t actually remember which. The smell of fresh sick hit his nostrils as he bumped into a haggard prostitute, her face resembling a paper bag full of paper bags. Her twilight years had not been that kind to her, her pale veined grey skin apparent in the moonlight. She mumbled something as he tried to get past her; something about a fiver her mouth and his genitals. His mind still deep in thought he mumbled to the *h**e and carried on walking his hands deep in his pockets. His expensive polished shoes splashed in the dirty puddles; his mind flashed back to seeing Angela’s dead body surrounded by a pool of her blood on the laminated living room floor. He shuddered as he walked down a corridor and reached the door to his apartment.
He was about unlock his door when he turned round and noticed police tape across the flat opposite to his; Angela’s flat. He wanted to find what happened to her, what happened in her flat and who killed her; so with his journalist mind unlocked his own door, stumbled through the doorway and headed for the kitchen. Rummaging through a cupboard he pulled out an old pint glass and emptied the contents onto his chair coal coloured kitchen worktop. Amongst old stupid Christmas cracker objects; a plastic pencil sharpener, a bobble in the shape of a butterfly and a key ring, old batteries pencils and pens and a key to Angela’s flat. Walking out of his own flat, relocking the door he strode over to Angela’s with a determined look on his face. Unlocking her door he ducked under the police tape and entered her flat. Apart from the absence of her body; now presumably in a morgue her flat was more or less recognisable except from a few smashed picture frames, ornaments and a cracked glass cabinet suggested a fight or struggle had taken place.
His muddy shoes crunched over broken glass that lay scattered over the blood stained floor. Her black 21” Phillips television combined DVD/Video player also blood stained stood next to her silver micro Sony stereo which sat on a large oak DVD/Video tower, the twin glass doors also cracked, the oak coloured speakers angled on two stainless steel wall brackets. Opposite the stereo against another wall stood a huge tropical fish tank, the fish floating on the surface of the murky water, dead. As he looked around the flat he had no idea what he expected to find. He first walked into Angela’s square shaped kitchen. Nothing out of the ordinary apart from a few dirty plates piled high in the sink apples, oranges and bananas rotting in a bowel. A blue tea stained kettle with a blue luminous capacity indicator sat next to a collection of different salt and pepper pots. Blue coffee, tea and sugar pots stood next to a blue twin fan assisted cooker.
The smell of rotting food came from a large solid looking white fridge freezer. Weird teddy magnets (one of them smoking a joint, another one with a snorkel over its face holding a book entitled ‘muff diving for beginners’) pinned a few post-it notes. He scanned the various notes on the fridge hoping for some sort of clue. Disappointed all he read was ‘feed fish’ another one read ‘pay credit card’ mostly mundane every day s***. One of them however did catch his eye; scrawled in a different hand writing someone had written ‘video cabinet’ written in hand writing he thought he recognised.

Intrigued with excitement bubbling up inside of him Martin strode out of the kitchen and back into the living room. Kneeling down on the soft thick white rug beside the DVD/Video tower he flicked through various film titles. Some girlie such as Bridget Jones; The Edge Of Reason, Notting Hill. Some in contrast very dark sick gory films: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre; original and remake, A Clockwork Orange, Straw Dogs. Looking through her collection of porn videos (when he was shagging her he found out that she was heavily into kinky stuff such as S&M, chains, whips and porn) he came across the only blank video tape. Curious he slid the tape into her silver Panasonic video player and switched on the television. At first there was just static but then the picture changed to that of a homemade movie; that a figure almost entirely cloaked in darkness smoking a cigarette. Martin turned up the volume and when he heard he figure talking, the voice that distorted he couldn’t tell if the voice was male or female; what the smoker said chilled his blood.
“Hello Martin, you better sit down because what I’m about to tell you, will change both our lives”

Chapter Six

Christian staggered out of Angela’s storeroom and into her classroom breathing heavily, his sandy coloured hair ruffled. Smoke wafted out seemingly chasing after him. Angela staggered out a few seconds blowing smoke out of her nostrils.
“Play time’s over now Christian, get back to your class” Angela said in a stern but playful voice winking at him as the school bell sounded.
“Yes miss” Christian said in a mock salute a smile cracking his face “Oh and thanks for the best lesson I’ve ever had!” he said blowing her a kiss before walking out.

Blistering spring heat baked the School corridor Christian walked down as he desperately tried to hide the smile eradiating his face. Christian and Angela had been having their affair now for five months and ever since that fateful Christmas Eve night he felt like he was walking on air; his whole body on a permanent adrenalin boost fuelled by love. Because his so called friends have been avoiding him even since Jake was killed eleven months ago, he found himself becoming more and more isolated at school. The first three months he had got so severe beatings that he had ended up hospital for a month with cracked ribs and a broken arm after a gang of lads jumped him when he was leaving school. Since then he had learned to fight back and had got several detentions for fighting in the playground.
For months he enjoyed being the most dangerous boy in school and he certainly lived up to his nickname Psycho Dobbs completely losing it and kicking the s*** out anyone who didn’t respect him enough, he especially loved booting a boy in the face, watching his nose explode and then stamping on his head, his signature move; while all the time back at home pretending to be a ‘mummy’s boy’ making them think that it him being bullied just so they think they had a problem child and pull him out of the school he loved going to. About a month after him and Angela had started shagging; he had gone bit to far his violent rage escalating to a sickening level and he ended up putting a boy in a coma. Angela helped cover up Christian’s involvement, saying that she had witnessed the boy slip and fall down a set of concrete stairs. She then wanted him to promise her that he would never turn to violence again; becoming hysterical with a wave of tears washing down her face she begged him not to turn into the one person she despised and scarred of the most; Richard. He promised her with his heart and soul that he’d change for her and so he kept his loathing, hatred and violent tendencies locked deep inside of him; from then on he became a completely different person, the quietest lad in school.

Walking into his form room he unlocked his locker and pulled out his school bag. Re-locking his locker he bumped into Mr Cork his form tutor sending his coffee cup flying. The boiling hot coffee cascaded over Christian’s white school shirt.
“I’m very sorry Christian I huh, I…” Mr Cork stammered; his moustache a quiver as Christian towered over him.
The fire behind Christian’s eyes burned deep into Mr Cork’s. Without saying a word with black coffee dripping down his front and onto the floor, he shot out a large hand and grabbed Mr Cork’s throat slamming his head against a blackboard. As Christian started to squeeze his wind pipe; his form tutors face started to turn red as he started to cough and splutter. With Christian’s other hand he grabbed Mr Cork’s class room keys and locked the door with out taking his eyes from his.
“Please…I….didn’t….” he croaked as started to shake with sheer fear. White hot anger bubbled up inside Christian as he slammed his fist into his teacher’s stomach letting go of his wind pipe. For a moment he watched the dirty sick old little man crawl on the floor clutching his stomach; his heart thumping as he started to get dizzy with excitement. He had been wanting to do this for so long now; ever since he found pictures of naked school kids in Mr Cork’s draw a couple of months ago when he was looking for a bottle of whiskey he knew he kept hidden. Just thinking about it made him heave, with the devil dancing in his green eyes he let fly with a kick, smashing Mr Cork’s glasses; breaking his noise.
“You know what I seen the other month in your draw huh you sick bastard; do you” Christian said picking the little s*** up to levelling his face with his, his noise actually touching his teachers, spittle and saviour dripping from his mouth as he shouted again
“Do you, hey you sick perv” before roughly throwing over a table, Mr Cork’s head banged against a wall.
“Yeah, that’s right you can’t bring yourself to say it can you, you dirty disgusting little s*** of a man” Christian shouted at him, pointing a shaking finger at him his anger reaching a crescendo. As Mr Cork just sat there muttering and stammering; Christian crouched to down to face him shuddering in revulsion and said quietly his voice a menacing rasp.
“Now, you know my dad’s a policeman right, well if you mention this to anyone; not only will he found out how sick you are but I’ll make sure that after your career is ruins and your facing doing time in prison, I’ll turn you into a gibbering vegetable” Mr Cork just looked at Christian with tear sodden eyes “Now, want I you do after when I leave, his get out of this building, phone up half an later and say you’ve been mugged, watch your back from now on, you got that.” Christian said gripping Mr Cork’s tear soaked cheek with an iron grip. And with that, Christian straightened up, straightened his tie and walked over and unlocked the door he then casual walked out of the classroom.

Warm spring air gently kissed the school grass making it sway hypnotically, as Christian strode across the football field, passing smokers corner or rather a bit of Astro turf that was further enough away for from the school building boys used to go and sit and smoke on. He sat down next just further enough away to ignore the smokers, but as far to smell the cigarette he had become to crave since he had given up smoking. Rummaging through his bag he pulled out his favourite book that he had read over a dozen times, every lunch time since the weather had started to get warmer. He started to read as the hot sun caressed his neck, beads of sweat on his forehead. He had just got into a really gripping exciting scene, a serial killer torturing his victim by using a soldering iron to piece her pupils, scorching smoke literally melting her eyeball as she screamed when he heard chanting and coughing coming from ‘smokers corner’. Distracted he reluctantly put down his book and turned his head round. The shouting got louder and started to hear snippets of what was being said.
“Go on….inhale…do it again….take it all the way” one lad was shouting as Stephen, Christian’s ex best friend sat in a semi-circle coughing and spluttering on a cigarette. Normally Christian would have turned a blind eye, but he could tell that Stephen was clearly being pressured into smoking. Feeling his anger building up inside him, he got up and started to stride over to the Astro turf biting his lip.
“Hey dickhead, he doesn’t want to smoke the s***, so lay off him yeah” Christian said to the lad who was trying to force Stephen to smoke.
“And who the f*** are you” the lad said getting up, clearly a new boy at the school.
“Christian you dickhead, stay out of this yeah” Stephen said coughing.
“Fine, do want you want” Christian said about to turn around, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed a teacher approaching him. All four lads in the semi-circle were now stood up, shouting and swearing at presumably to f*** off; but their voices were distant as he watching the ever approaching teacher which the group of lads had their backs to. Without a second’s hesitation with the teacher just seconds away, Christian shot out his hand and snatched Stephen’s cigarette, shoving it in his own mouth. The group of lads started to shove him, just as the teacher weaved her way through the group not noticing Stephen running away. The teacher smirked to herself as she said
“Detention for you Christian, follow me, as for the rest of you; I’ll let you off with a warning, now move!” she shouted, before handing Christian a detention slip.

Christian sat on a black plastic chair in the classroom putting on his trainers; being the end of the school day all the other kids had burst out of the classrooms and ran for the bus moments before. As usual he decided to jog home; his house being only a couple of miles away. As he started to tie his laces Stephen walked into the classroom.
“Hey dickhead” Stephen said sitting on a vandalised desk; with various swear words and boy’s names scratched into the wood.
“Hey” Christian said without looking up.
“Why did you hey, why did you get me out of the s*** at dinner?” Stephen said without looking up, his legs dangling.
“We’re friends, aren’t, we” Christian said standing up.
“You reckon; what about what you did to my step brother” Stephen said also standing up looking Christian straight in his eyes.
“You were knocked unconscious, but you know deep down that I didn’t do any of that s***, I saved your f***ing life for f*** sake, it’s that bastard of a step father that’s been messing with your head, make piece with your mum, shake my hand and let’s finally forget this s*** yeah” Christian said holding his hand out. Stephen didn’t say a word; he just shook Christian’s hand and slapped him on the back.
“I say lets forget this s*** and be friends, not be a pair of dicks” Christian said with a laugh, Stephen burst out laughing as they both walked out of the classroom. Just before they turned a corner in the school corridor, Christian noticed out of the corner of his eye his mother walking towards Angela’s classroom clutching a bunch of papers. A bolt of ice ran up his spine as he realised what the bunch of papers was; love letters from Angela.
“Stephen I’ll huh, I’ll catch up yeah, there’s a teacher I’ve got to see” Christian said whipping round.
“Not my mother is it” Stephan said with a laugh, Christian didn’t turn round but just carried on walking before braking into a run, as his mother reached Angela’s classroom.

Chapter Seven

Smoke spiralled towards the ceiling as Martin took a long deep drag; his eyes completely glued to the person hidden in darkness on the television screen as he went on.
“Got your attention didn’t I” blowing smoke the person went on “By now I’m in no doubt, that you are now wondering how the initials of your character got etched into the body of your dead ex-lover” the shadow laughed a strange wheezy laugh that Martin thought he could actually hear the grating coming from the shadows lungs. The voice sounded almost robotic; as if the shadow wanted to keep their identity concealed and probably used some sort of voice changing technology. Christian dashed to the drinks cabinet, his hands shaking, his head spinning and his heart thumped so loudly that he thought it would awake the entire block of flats then burst out of his chest and start bouncing around the room. The voice still rumbled on as Martin almost laughed to himself when he found an unbroken bottle of brandy in the drinks cabinet.
“Don’t worry you will find out; if you follow my instructions” Martin sat on a leather stool and swigged from the Brandy mesmerised at the screen “But first I need to know that your ready for what you’re about to discover; so first things first when you finish drinking from the Brandy bottle you’re now swigging from; go to the fish tank, you will find a key.” The video then cut to static as Martin downed more Brandy.

He walked over to the fish tank his mind in complete disbelief; but there was an element of intrigue and curiosity building in him like a snowball, his journalistic mind switching on like a light bulb. So that’s how he found himself, half pissed on a Saturday night half his arm submerged in dirty water with floating tropical dead fish. After a while his head swirling from the half bottle of Brandy that he had drunk; he still hadn’t found a key but just as he was about to give up when his dirty fingers came across something metallic. His fingers fished out the object and he dropped it in shock, the object a key seemed to fall to the floor in slow motion, it clattered on to the laminate floor. Picking it up he studied it for a moment turning it over in his fingers. The key was very similar to the one he had used at a gym he joined a few months ago at the other side of town. In fact as he inspected it more he spotted the name of the gym engraved on the back.

The smell of chlorine hit his nostrils; the water filling his mouth as Martin swam in the gyms swimming pool on a bitter cold November Sunday morning.
His stomach still churned and his head throbbed from the hangover he got from drinking to much Brandy the night before. Using the pools ladder he pulled himself out of the clear blue water and stood on the side of the pool for a moment catching his breath. An incredibly hot looking woman, in her early thirties walked passed him; he noticed how cute her arse looked in her tight black swimming costume. She sat on the pools edge, dangling her feet into the water, reluctant to get in.
“The longer you leave it the harder it gets” Martin quibbled as the smouldering hot woman laughed looking directly at him
“What is it about swimming pools” she said still laughing with a grin on her face “I always do this; ever since I was a little girl sitting dangling my feet in the cold water, until my father pushed me in” she said giggling
“I’ll push you in; it will be a pleasure” Martin said with a smirk extending his hand “Martin Black, pleased to meet you”
“Yvonne Wood” Yvonne said shaking Martin by the hand “You have gorgeous, lime coloured eyes by the way” she said flicking her long blonde hair
“You can say green if you like” Martin said
“No, no green sounds so boring” she giggled again “Look would you like to grab a cup of coffee later?” she inquired a hopeful expression in her face.
“Yeah sure, I’ll just find my mobile” Martin said completely deadpan patting himself.
“Okay then, do you want to meet me at Starbucks lunchtime; say about one?”
Realising that she fancied him and not one to waste an opportunity with his mind screaming at him to forget about her and find the locker, the key he found last night might open he said, starting to stammer
“Err…yeah…um…sure...see you at one o’clock” his heart started to beat faster as adrenalin kicked in, even though he had hit on hundreds of women in the past, his success rate he reckoned probably be 96% he still felt incredibly nervous and a tad shy around hot looking women and the early stages of a potential shag. But then as he became almost dizzy with nerves, palms sweating his bottle fading rapidly, his mind would split in two and a more calm collected, charming ultra confident side to Martin would kick in and nail the date or one night stand for him.
“Can you err, um, do you want to push me in?” she said smiling a warm smile as Martin drank in her beauty; long blonde straight hair, enchanting sapphire coloured eyes, the most prominent feature on her face however which for Martin screamed super hot sexy was a mole or beauty spot situated just above her left upper lip. “Hello” Yvonne said slowly waving a hand “Hello” she said again eventually breaking Martin’s spellbound look. Without saying anything else he pushed her into the pool.

Martin stood in the shower, as the water sprayed over his face his mind was deep in thought. He thought about the video tape he found in Angela’s flat, the figure hidden in a shadow; the key he found, a key to a locker in a gym in now stood in. He untied the key from around his ankle and looked at it again; itching to find the locker he hurriedly stepped of the shower and dried himself down. He pulled on a black polo neck top, 501 Levis Jeans and black trainers. He then searched for the locker the key unlocked, locker number 202. When he did finally find the locker, his mind went into overdrive thinking of what he might find. His sweaty fingers slid the key into the lock and twisted it. Flinging the locker open he put his hand in and pulled out a small matt black safety deposit box. He was about to open it but two men walked past, so stuffing it into this bag he decided to open it later when he was alone in his flat.

The aroma of roasting coffee filled the air as the atmosphere in Starbucks Yvonne and Martin sat in was awash with people and chatter, the both them totally engrossed in conversation. Martin’s sports bag with the deposit box inside lay next to his feet. Yvonne sipped her Mocha Martin told her his love for writing, how he studied Journalism at Bristol University; after graduating he got a job working for a small newspaper called the Bristol Reporter. As she became ever captivated with Martin’s life he then went on to explain after a few years he became bored with getting nowhere with his Journalist job.
He found an intensive training course for proof readers on the internet; one pissed up night he decided to apply and after a two week training intensive training course, found the course sparked of interest in fiction writing. After bagging himself an infinitely better job as Editor in a much bigger newspaper in Manchester, he started to work also as a freelance proof reader until eventual the freelance work took over and he went part time in the newspaper. Martin found himself equally impressed with Yvonne’s degree of Criminal Psychology.
Is this better in dialogue? Reveal more about Yvonne’s life?
The harsh November wind bit into them as they both stood outside Starbucks, Yvonne long blonde hair blew in the wind as she kissed Martin lightly on the lips.
“That’s a thank you; I really enjoyed chatting to you” she said with a beaming smile
“Do fancy having dinner tonight at my place; I’ll cook” Martin found himself saying even though he was itching to found out was in the box.
“Sorry I can’t I’ve got work tonight, but I’m free tomorrow night, give me a ring yeah” she said starting to walk backwards away from him.
“Yeah sure, tomorrow night then I’ll call you” Martin shouted after her, before turning round lighting a cigarette, his black sports bag slung over his shoulders, cold rain spattered his leather jacket as he walked down the high street.

Martin picked up a piece of his favourite pizza; pepperoni with extra mozzarella cheese.
Moments before he had checked each room of his flat to make sure his Craig wasn’t in when he opened the safety deposit box. Swigging a bottle of Budweiser he then devoured the slice of pizza before walking over to his bag. Pulling out the box he placed it on his dinning table. He was about to unlock it when his mobile rang. He groaned as he answered it.
“Hey where you’ve been I’ve been trying to phone you all day” Sarah’s snapped “Ever since you left abruptly Saturday night I’ve been really worried about you” Sarah twittered in his ear as he slumped in a chair.
“Yeah, yeah I know I’m really” Martin said “look can I call you back” before Sarah could reply he ended the call. Taking out the key he found in the fish tank his spine tingling with excitement and anticipation he unlocked the box and his eyes bulged when he looked inside.

Chapter Eight

Christine opened the door to Angela’s classroom and walked inside, closing the door behind her as Christian ran up. He pressed his ear to door but couldn’t hear anything. He quietly and slowly he opened the door slightly and peered through the gap. Christine stood in front of Angela’s desk holding the love letters. Angela looked up from marking a piece of homework, her face brightening when she noticed Angela, then her eyes fell on the letters and panic started to dance in her yes, she straightened becoming tense with shock. Christine looked deep into her eyes coldly her; she showered love letters onto Angela’s wooden desk that was littered with school work in and school GCSE exercise books.
“I found these in Christian’s bedroom in a box under his bed with a box of condoms, amongst other…” she shuddered and took a deep breath, her eyes feeling up with tears “…things, signed by….” She grabbed one the letters and started to speed read, biting her lip presumably Christian fought to fight the urge to throw herself over Angela’s desk grab her throat and start slapping her “…signed with love your dirty sex kitten, so Angela what I want to know is what the f*** is going and are how long have you been seducing my son?” Christine snapped, putting a cigarette in her mouth and lighting it, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her Zippo. Angela started to throw books into a shoulder bag as she said
“Look Christine, can we talk about this some other time yeah; I’ve really got to get going” she then threw on her leather jacket and slung her black leather bag over her shoulder. She then shuffled towards Christine and tried to brush past her; but Christine petite but ballsy stuck her arm out blocking her path.
“Have you been f***ing my son, you haven’t you; he’s just a boy you sick f***ing b****” she said grabbing Angela’s half full cold cup of coffee and threw the contents over Angela. Cold coffee sloshed down Angela’s face as she snapped back
“f***ing b****…” she said wiping her face, her teeth clenched as she tried to control herself “what the f*** are you on huh; can’t you clearly see that’s it’s another girl called Angela and not me. Do you honestly think I’d shag a teenager least of all your son, I’m a school teacher for f*** sake” from Christian’s point of view Angela looked calm and collected, but he guessed inside her stomach churned with anxiety as her heart thumped. “Lighting up will you so what he’s got girlfriend called Angela, good on him, after all….” Angela breathed heavily as coffee dripped off her short skirt and into her high heals “…most teenagers shag at this age” She looked into Christine’s eyes as she chewed her lip, having not much confidence that Christine believed her.
For a long time neither of them spoke and Christian started to worry and panic that Angela might tell his mum everything. Time to make an entrance he thought as strode into the room looking as innocent as he could.
“Hey mum; what are doing here?” he said as both of them swung round, the tension as thick as his mothers cigarette smoke.
“Oh hey Chris, I’m just having a friendly chat with Angela” Christine with a warm smile.
“Wha…what, why, I did hand in my homework in time, didn’t I Miss?” Christian said desperately trying to act as casual as possible.
“Yeah Christian, don’t worry me and your mum were just chatting about…” Angela started breathing a massive sigh of relief, looking glad that Christian interrupted when he did. “…Chatting huh, chatting about…” she tried to think of something to say but Christine jumped in.
“I’m sorry to bother you yeah Angela, your right okay, your right, huh sorry to bother you yeah” Christine said started walk out of the door.
“Are you coming, Christian” She said as Christian desperately tried to make eye contact and mouth something to Angela. Angela called after them looking nervous.
“Do guys want a lift; Richard’s finally let me use the car again” Angela said quickly running after them, car keys in her hand. Sensing Angela’s strategy and before his mum could say anything
“Yeah thanks Miss, that’ll be great” Christian said grabbing his mum gently by the arm halting her advance towards the door.

A waft of warm air hit all three of them as they stepped outside and started to walk towards Angela’s blue Ford Focus. Christine walked in front and Angela and Christian followed. Angela sent a bolt of electricity up Christian’s spine as she light touched his hand before running her hand his chest to his crotch and started rub the bulge in his trousers a wicked smile cracking her face, his mum just inches in front of them. That was one of the many things he loved and found sexy about her, her sense of fun; just looking at her getting pleasure from the thought of getting caught gave him wave after wave of mind blowing ecstasy of pleasure. As they weaved their way through the maze of parked car Christian couldn’t help noticing that someone had scratched into Mr Cork’s car ‘Cork’s a sick alcoholic dickhead’ and for the life him he couldn’t figure out who would do such a thing; with that thought he almost laughed out loud.

Sweat dripped down from his forehead as Christian thought that he could have fried an egg in back seat of the Angela’s as they sped through the streets. Christine sat in the front equally sweating but for a different reason, as soon as they had got into Angela’s car, Christine started firing awkward questions at Christine about his new ‘girlfriend’. Every time Christian lied; Angela sifted in her seat and gripped the steering wheel tightly, her teeth clenched as she chewed her tongue.
“Don’t embarrass the lad” Angela finally said unable to take anymore.
“Okay but promise that you’ll invite her to tea soon okay, Christian” Christine said with a wry smile as houses, as chippy’s, takeaways and gangs flitted past them.

They had got a mile down the road before they had got stuck in traffic jam; for half a mile they had been stopping and started ever other minute. The heat inside the car had started to make feel dizzy so he wound down the window and now his head was hanging out, the air dry hot and humid. Angela rubbed her forehead with her fingers, lying back in the front seat a cigarette dangling from her mouth forgetting about her confrontation with Christine before, a fatal mistake.
“Hey Angela have you still got that mini-fan” Christine said red faced the sweat literally oozing out from her face.
“Yeah, it’s in the glove compartment” Angela said taking a drag from her cigarette and blowing the smoke out of the window. A bolt of ice ran up Christian’s spine as soon as Angela said it, he wanted to press the freeze on a button; ‘you stupid, stupid b****’ he thought as watched his mother open the glove box. He held his breath as she rummaged around, his eyes almost bulging as his head swam. Then adrenaline kicked as his heart thumped and he actually her to find it, but then she pulled out the mini-fan and heart sank and subsided. Just as she was about to close the glove box; she pulled out a gold watch, she turned to look at Angela
“Hey nice watch, how much did it……” her voice trailed off as she turned the watch over and read the engraved writing ‘Thank you for all the love you gave me on your sixteenth birthday and after, love you always your sex kitten, Angela XXX’. For a long time nobody dared breath; Christian almost could hear the seconds ticking on his watch as he waited for the nuclear bomb to his mother to explode and vaporise his very soul as she just stared open mouthed at the watch. A minute passed, Angela furiously sucked on her cigarette, as horns blared urging her to move her car. Christian looked had his eyes closed, his head back wishing that a micro black hole would form in the car and suck him into it as they both waited for Christine’s reaction. Christine didn’t explode like they both expected, she just opened the door and stepped out, a wave of heat hitting smack in the face.
“Move, f***ing move it Angela, lets get out of here now!” Christian shouted, slamming his hands against the passengers head rest. The only thing he feared in the world was his mother thinking bad of him; even the slightest thought of disappointing her ripped his heart to shreds, just wanted to get away. Horns still blaring shouts and swearing coming from the cars behind them drifted over Angela’s head, as she got and of the car and started to run after Christine. Seconds later she catched up to her as Christian got of the car. He had just reached them as Angela put her hand on his mum’s shoulder and spun her round.
“Don’t speak…to….me…ever…again” his mum said as he could tell that she was fighting to keep her self under control as tears dropped down her face.
“Look Christine, me and Christian are lover’s I’m very sorry that I lied to you but…” Christine hit her full force in the face so hard and sudden that Angela lost her balance and fell to the ground hitting her head against a wall.
“You took my son’s innocence you sick b****” Christine screamed at her as Christian grabbed her and yanked her away.
Angela got up brushing herself down as she spat blood as Christine’s arms and legs flayed wildly, being held tightly by Christian.
“How could you hey Angela, how f***ing could you he’s just a kid, why huh f***ing why Angela” Christine said a thin layer of spittle on her lips.
“Because you had Richard, that’s f***ing why” Angela said spitting more blood before wiping her mouth.
“What?” Christian roared, letting go of his mother.
“I found out that you slept you and Peter had shagged on a holiday romance, a month before that camping trip, it started to eat me up inside Christine, it really did devastate me” Angela said, patting her chest; her nose busted.
“But why Angela, me and Richard were over long, long time ago, before you even met him” Christine said walking over to Angela her chest heaving as she breathed heavily.
“When me, and Richard met in a night club; he told me that I was his first when we got back to his place” Angela said, as she sat on the wall clicking her lighter “That night I felt that me and Richard really connected like it was meant to be; it was that night that I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. When he didn’t do a runner in the morning and actually whisked me off for a romantic weekend to Paris I felt love for the first time in my life, Christine, the first time” Angela continued her head bowed as she blew smoke out of her nostrils “Then I found out; you were his first, you f***ing took that away from me Christine…you took…” Christian cut her off as he strode over and locked eyes with her
“But, I err that night wha…what about that night hey Angela” Christian said looking daggers into her eyes feeling hurt and betrayed.
“Oh I did fancy you Christian ever since that camping trip, when you and your dad was putting up that tent, you looked so fit, athletic and” she lipped your lips “so yummy” Angela said as she kissed him on the lips right in front of a gob smacked exasperated Christine.
“That night on your sixteenth; fun as it was it really was just a f***” Angela said a sly smile on her face.
“But then you came into my room; I couldn’t stop crying” Angela explained running her fingers through Christian’s unruly blonde hair before she continued “The way you held me and comforted me shot a bolt of electricity up my spine and ever since then my heart has been yours” Angela said with a lump in her throat as she ground the cigarette butt out with her heal.
“Okay, okay enough is f***ing enough yeah!” Christine screamed at them chopping the air between them; almost heaving.
“From now on Angela you stay the f*** away from me and my family!” Christine screamed; her face right into Angela’s looking deep into her eyes
“Can’t do that Christine” Angela said quietly almost under breath. Christine grabbed Angela long brunette hair and pulled her head close to hers
“Well that’s exactly what going to f***ing do” Christine spat “Otherwise the education authorities will get to hear you’re screwing a pupil” Christine then let go of Angela’s hair and to walk away shouting with out turning round“ Your f***ing finished Angela; are you coming Christian” Before Christian could say anything Angela screamed
“I’m pregnant, I’m f***ing pregnant Christine, and Christian’s the father.

Chapter Nine

Revelations exploded through Martin’s mind as he reread the scene he wrote with Angela confessing being pregnant with Christian’s child. The repercussions on this rippled through Martin like a wave of electricity knowing that this would alter the course of his book entirely. His mind screamed and did a paddy urging him to read more, but his body wanted a rest as he swivelled around and around on his chair lost in thought. When he stopped swivelling, he found himself with his back to his typewriter staring at the opened box on his table.

He walked over and stared into the box, the third time that night. Inside the box lay a set of keys and Dictaphone micro cassette tape. His whole body ached to find out what was on the tape, but every time he picked the tape up he would lose his bottle and put it back in the box. What was stopping him for f*** sake he thought gritting his teeth. Determination overrode his fear as he placed the tape in his own Dictaphone and pressed play. For a brief moment all he could hear was static and few crackling sounds; but then he heard same computerised voice that was on the video.
“First I’d like to congratulate you on taking this first step; now I know that you’re actually listening; I can tell you more” Martin slumped on his sofa listening intently as the voice went on.
“At this point I’m not sure how much to tell you; so I’ve decided to guide you. In the box you will find a set of keys, these keys unlock the front door to a abandoned farmhouse in Taunton, Somerset; the address you will find written on a piece of paper also in the box. Go to the farmhouse and you will hear from me again soon.

Dirt sprayed up Martin’s jeans as his trainers sloped in the muddy dirk track heading for the farm house up ahead, exactly located where the voice on the tape said. A crack of lighting lit up an area of fields that lay either side of the muddy track; as he reached the path leading to the farm house. The flashlight Martin held cut a swatch through the bleak darkness. The entire area was deserted and desolate making him feel like the last human alive. If it wasn’t for the freezing wind swirling biting into him and the rain thrashing down; he wouldn’t have been able to tell if he was dead or alive.

The first key he tried didn’t work, neither did the second or third. At this point he felt more then a little silly, standing at a door of an abandoned farm house in the middle of nowhere. Images of Angela’s dead body flashed through his mind when he tried the last key part of him wanted the last key not to work he wanted to go home; but it had taken six hours of driving from Manchester to get to the house, and at three o’clock in the morning he desperately now more then ever wanted to find out more about the bastard who killed Angela and nail the sick f***er. The last key unlocked the door and Martin stepped inside.

The smell hit him first, a musty smell that reminded him old museums. The flashlight illuminated dirty fading pealing wall paper as he walked down a hall.
Opening another door he stepped into what he presumed to be the living room.
Bare dirty floor boards, dust covered shelves, an old battered sofa in one corner. Black and white photos lined the walls, photos of a farm. A family with a dog; Victorian era Martin guessed as he studied them. Another photo with what he presumed to be the farmer who used to live hear, holding a shot gun smiling, not much teeth a dog sitting by his side. Using the flashlight he looked around the room, rocking chair in one corner, a large book shelve covered in dust stood against one wall opposite a coal fire. This room cloaked in darkness with the smell of must mixed with a smell of stale urine and s***, sent an eerie chill up Martin’s spine as he almost started to heave holding his nose. Fly’s buzzed around s*** that had been smeared across one side of a wall, the damp wall paper pulsating with mould. Other fly’s buzzed around a dead rotting dog in another corner of the room; at this sight Martin was violently sick watching the fly’s crawl in and out of the poor dead animal’s eye sockets. That’s when he spotted the finger in a pickle jar on a shelve. He was about to pick the jar up but he heard muffled screaming coming from below the floor boards. He knelt down, careful not to place his hands in a patch mixed with blood and more s*** on the floorboards; he peered through a crack and spotted a candle flickering in the darkness.

Maybe hours passed by, maybe it was weeks or months; maybe he had been rambling in the darkness of a disgusting horrifying house for years; he could have had a car crash on the way to the farm house and now he was lying in a coma in some hospital somewhere, dreaming of this chilling nightmare of a house as he looked around each room being more surreal and terrifying then the last. Finding the door to the basement halted his mind reaching a fever pitch of terror. The screaming got louder as he started to walk down the stones steps with only the light from his torch for comfort keeping him grounded in reality. The smell of rotting flesh filled his nostrils as he walked further down. The same mix of stale urine and s*** increased the further down the damp stones steps he went. He shone his torch over photos lining the wall, he could feel vomit rising as he looked at them. Some depicted scenes of women being cut up, others being mutilated with various tools of torture.

Only when he reached the bottom did he realise the abnormity of the situation he was now in. He guessed he must of stood on some sort of pressure pad, for a moment later when he walked gingerly further into the basement; loads of halogen lights flickered on one by one. ‘Twilight Time’ started to boom out from speakers somewhere above his head as he looked around; his blood running cold when he found a glass shower looking capsule, various pipes running from the top of it. The most chilling thing of all though was the young naked women her features gaunt, various cuts and bruises all over her body, her hair shaved off, completely balled, half of her face looked melted and scorched as she banged her fists against the glass screaming. Some sort of acid splashed down onto her body from a sprinkler above her head as ‘Heavenly shades of love is falling; it’s Twilight Time’ boomed from the speakers. Her screams intensified as did the acid rain melting her face. Martin just stood there watching; his legs feeling like lead as the inhuman screams cut through his very soul. As her face became nothing more then a bubbles of flesh like melting cheese, his mind screamed at him to do something anything, just do something! Looking around ‘Twilight Time’ still booming from the speakers, his body shaking as panic gripped him he round the basement searching for something to brake the glass. After a few minutes that seemed like hours he spotted a crowbar on a bench amongst various bits of human anatomy including intestines, half melted eyeballs the crowbar itself matted with blood and human hair. Picking up the crowbar he raced over to the glass capsule and swung it back high above his head. But then another voice in his head started to scream at him ‘Leave her, f***ing leave the *h**e to melt’ not listening he swung the crowbar round and smashed the glass to the capsule. Grabbing hold of the poor woman’s arm he started to drag her free of the glass prison careful not to get any of the spraying acid on himself. He had just dragged her free, her body covered in melting bubbles of flesh when a new voice boomed out of the speakers, the same voice from the video and the cassette tape he found.
“By now Martin, you should have worked out what I can do” Martin was only half listening as he pulled the half melted woman further a long the floor; but his progress was halted suddenly when he couldn’t pull her any further her ankle chained to the bottom of the capsule. The voice went on as he tried to yank her free “By now Martin you should be realising the hopelessness of your actions; the consequence of that action has now lead to another” Martin started to hear air escaping
“I’m disappointed with you Martin; but then again I predicted your actions so I’ve decided to give you one last chance” as the voice droned on Martin started to smell gas
“I’m guessing your will have about two minutes before the basement completely fills with gas, then it will ignited; so grab whatever clues you can find and get out, get out now!” the voice boomed laughing. Martin’s mind raced; the woman, acid, capsule shattering, the voice still laughing muttering strange weird s*** something about how he really enjoyed torturing her. The smell of gas intensified and started as his head started to feel dizzy. He picked up the crowbar and started to slam it down against the poor woman’s chain in a pathetic attempt to break it.
“Leave her, leave the *h**e to die” the voice laughed as the seconds ticked down; one minute forty seconds. The room started to spin as Martin lay crumpled against the wall; defeated unable to break the chain, as the voice taunted him “There’s nothing you can do; leave her to suffer; there’s nothing you can…” Martin ignored the voice as he raced up the stone steps only to find the door locked. One minute twenty seconds. He leaped back down the steps, mistiming a step he crashed to the ground; his head hit the cold hard concrete. Water, mixed with the woman’s blood splashed up his face. Getting up panic started to take its terrifying grip on he as looked around for something, anything to break the door open. One minute. His head span as the gas started to overwhelm him. Panning his head around the room he first looked at the smashed capsule, then at the woman, then at a filthy urine s*** stained mattress in one corner of the room, then at a work bench, then at crowbar. Fifty seconds. Wait a second, his head panned around the room again, he was sure he skipped something. His eyes fell on the workbench, or more importantly the gun lying on the work bench. Now holding the gun in his hand he charged back up the slippery concrete steps. Aiming the gun at lock on the door, he fired once, twice, three times before the lock exploded and the door swung outward. Thirty seconds. The doors to various rooms became a blur as he raced through the house. Twenty five, seconds. He reached the door, his hand on the handle, about to open it he suddenly stopped. He forgot something, images flashed through his mind as the seconds ticked relentlessly onwards. Twenty seconds. Something in the living room, think for f*** sake, think his mind screamed at him. Okay, okay he thought to himself breathing heavily as more images flashed through his head as he entered the living room in his mind; a rocking chair, coal fire, fading wall paper with s*** sprawled across, black and white pictures on the wall, a man, a farmer, a farmer with his dog; that was it the picture with the farmer and his dog! Fifteen seconds. Charging into the living room he grabbed the picture off the wall, he span around and was about to dash back out again when he stopped. Ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven; something drew him to the finger in a jar on a shelf so he grabbed that too. Six seconds, five. Four, he raced back out of the living and awkwardly threw open the front door, the gun in his jacket pocket, the picture in one hand and the glass pickle jar in another. Three, wind and rain assaulted and stung his face as he ran, his lungs burn as his trainers sloshed in the mud. He tripped and went face first in the sloppy mud. Picking him self up, mud running down his face and jacket he ran on. Two, one; the house suddenly and violently exploded into a white hot plume of flames and smoke, the force of the explosion tore after Martin, picked him up and threw him like a rag doll through the air. He landed with a splash in the mud again, face first. As bricks, glass and general debris started to fall all around him, he gingerly picked him self up, clutching the picture and jar he wearily staggered back to his car.

Chapter Ten

As Stephen and Christian ran downstairs they could hear violent shouting and swearing coming from downstairs in the kitchen. Curious they both tip toed towards the kitchen door and it opened the door slightly. Richard and Stephen’s mother both locked in a blazing row.
“I told you I don’t want that little dickhead in my house again!” Richard shouted
“Yeah and I told you to drop it; the accident was recorded as misadventure and he’s just lost mother, it’s been twelve months, let it f***ing go!” Angela screamed back. Christian’s heart pounded, blood rushed to his head as he started to feel sick as he realised that they were rowing about him. He was about to storm in, maybe shout at them to stop when things started to turn nasty. Richard threw the cup he was drinking against the wall and with frustration and anger burning deep in his eyes he strode up to her and grabbed her arms tightly. He started to shake her violently as he spat
“Oh and you’d love that wouldn’t you, you’d love for him to keep coming here sniffing around you, you getting wet and pouting at him when I’m at work!”
“You promised you wouldn’t bring that up again” Angela said shaking with fear tears rolling down her eyes “Well go then; do it slap, kick and punch me like you always do, but you know what I f***ing loved it!” she said her tear sodden eyes looking deep into his. Richard looked like he was about to walk away, when all of sudden he punched Angela and knocked her to the kitchen floor. He then started to kick and punch her as he shouted
“I don’t give a s*** about you anymore Angela, you’re just a cheap sick sl**; I don’t care what you say that little bastard killed my son and you know what I’m glad his f***ing mother’s dead!”
As Stephen ran out of the house Christian charged into kitchen; grabbed hold of Richard and dragged him off Angela; he slammed his fist into his Richard’s face breaking his nose, blood squirted out over Christian’s face.
“So your glad my mothers dead huh you twisted sick bastard” Christian spat as he slammed Richard’s head into a kitchen work top. At virtually the same build at height they couldn’t have been more compatible. Richard’s shot a hand out and grabbed Christian by the throat, as Angela still dazed by the beating struggled to get up with blood dripping from her busted nose and lip.
“Stay out of this you murdering prick, it’s got nothing to do with you” Richard snapped throwing Christian off him.
“It’s got everything to do with me dickhead; she’s f***ing pregnant with my child!” Christian shouted getting up and spitting blood. Angela pulled herself using their chrome and glass dinning table. Richard went into meltdown with Christian’s revelation; now fuelled with white hot seething anger with his teeth clenched he grabbed hold of Angela’s neck and started to squeeze.
“I knew you were screwing around, wha….what do you actually enjoy shagging school boys hey, you sick sl**” He started to bang her head against the table spit flying out of his mouth like he was a rabid animal.
“Leave her alone” Christian said with a menacing hiss.
“Your next dickhead, I’m going to do to what you did to my son Jake, but I’ll make you suffer with pain that you’ve never felt before and after that when I’m finished you’ll wish your *h**e of a mother and bastard of a father didn’t do it doggie style and conceive you!” Richard snarled as his started to squeeze Angela’s neck making her blooded eyes bulge as she convulsed and thrashed around on the table. He just had time to lunge out of the way as Christian swung a heavy duty flying pan at him. The iron flying pan smashed right through the chromed rimmed glass table, inches away from Angela’s head.
Richard in turn grabbed hold of a half drunken bottle of Blossom Hill red wine and swung at Christian; he ducked and let fly with a powerful kick smashing his boot into Richard’s stomach as the bottle of wine smashed against a chocolate coloured kitchen work top. Red wine sprayed over Richard and Christian as they viscously fought. Richard lunged with the broken glass bottle and slashed Christian’s cheek; he doubled back and roared with pain.
“Did like that hey, that was for banging my wife and this….” He swung the bottle baseball style as he breathed furiously, the bottle smashed into Christian’s face the force sending him flying; he slammed into the crome fridge and slid down “is for Jake” he said kicking Christian in the face before lunging at him as Christian lay on the blood stained floor in a crumbled heap. Diving like a savage animal he dealt a flurry of blows to Christian face. Angela screamed
“Leave him, f***ing leave him you sick bastard” she said diving onto Richard slamming her fists into his back. Richard slammed his boulder fist into the side of Angela’s face, knocking her to the ground. With one hand he gripped Angela’s windpipe causing her to splutter, the other hand reaching up to a draw, Christian still dazed and exhausted from the fight to do anything; he didn’t see the lethal looking steak knife until it was almost too late. Richard swung the knife viscously aiming for Christian’s eyeball; the blade nicked as eyeball as he gripped Richard’s wrist halting the blades advance. Seconds ticked by, Richard’s grip on Angela’s windpipe increased to the point that she couldn’t breath, the knife wavered millimetres over Christian’s face.
He could feel Richard winning; the strain from keeping the knife away from his face increasing every second that went by. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the frying pan lying on the floor just inches away. Inch by painful inch he started to stretch his hand towards the frying pan as the knife started to cut deep into his cheek. As he screamed with pain, he let fly with a powerful kick and smashed his boot into Richard’s jaw and sent him rocketing backwards. Before Richard could use his weapon again, Christian dived forward grabbed the frying pan whirled around whacking Richard’s head knocking him out cold. Christian slid to the floor completely drained, sweat and blood mixing running down his face. Angela crawled on the floor rubbing her throat
“Can you go and get my hand cuffs from upstairs?” she croaked with a sly smile “I’ve got an idea”

Richard awoke to find handcuffs tight around his wrist; handcuffed to his large solid chrome fridge; Christian stood menacingly over him a smug evil look on his face as he tour a piece of masking tape, his blonde hair matted with blood. Blood flowed like a river on the beech coloured laminate flooring. Angela lay with her back against the work top sat opposite Richard completely naked a look of ecstasy on his her face as she pushed a vibrator in and out of her vagina, her feet almost touching Richard’s as Christian stuck the masking tape over his mouth. Muffled whimpering and screaming coming from Richard accompanied Christian as she started to caress and lick Angela’s erect nipples; his muffled cry’s sounding like sweet soft delightful music to him as he worked his way down Angela’s gorgeous smooth pouting body, licking drops of blood off her abdomen. She started to moan with pleasure as Richard banged his head against the fridge in frustration. After a few minutes, Christian slid out from Angela’s lap and said his voice almost a whisper
“Lets spice this up a bit” he said a glint in his eyes as he grabbed a straight edged kitchen knife from the draw.
“Do it; f***ing do it” Angela said with a hiss grinding her as she ran her hands down her body “I want him to feel absolutely terrified, I want him to bleed and bleed just as I f***ing did” Christian didn’t say anything as he grabbed Richard’s free hand and placed it flat on the floor. Wielding the knife he slammed it down in between his fingers; Christian laughed when Richard flinched with terror in his eyes. Christian then spat in his face and laughed again an evil grin creasing his blood speckled face. Angela started to masturbate herself, as Christian plunged the knife once again between Richard’s fingers starting to dot and in circle his hand; plunging the knife furiously between each finger watching Angela unable to keep his eyes off her. Now completely mesmerised, he built up a steady rhythm. He ripped of Richard’s gag so he could hear him scream as his eyes flitted between Richard’s tear sodden face, and Angela pleasuring herself with a look of pure dreamy pleasure on her face. They both started to build up speed more and more, Christian with his knife and Angela with her plunging fingers as Richard screamed and begged for Christian to stop. Christian’s hand became a blur so did Angela’s. Her moaning of sheer ecstasy became louder and louder as Richard screamed his red faced boggled eyed petrified head off. Angela’s body started to thrash wildly as she started to orgasm at the exact same moment Christian spun his lethal glistening knife, laughing as he repeatedly slashed Richard’s throat; adrenalin pumping through his body; blood spurting out over the both of them. Breathless they both collapsed their falling body’s slosh
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