Tortured Souls (Rebels of Sandland 2)

The orange glow of a cigarette at the bottom of my garden.

Someone was down there, hiding in the midnight shadows.

I gasped as my adrenaline spiked and my nerves went into freefall. Moving to the edge of the wall, I plastered my body against it, praying they didn’t see me. God, I hoped they didn’t see me. My heartbeat drummed fast in my ears, and I tried to steady myself as best I could, but how could I? When there was a psycho standing in my garden, ready to do God knows what. My nightmares were becoming a fucked-up reality.

Cautiously, I peered slowly around to see if they were still there. My throat pulsed with fear, and I held my breath as I saw the dark, hooded figure take another drag of their cigarette, momentarily lighting up their face. A man’s face; rugged, unshaven and sinister. Whoever was down there was dressed all in black and had the hood of his jacket pulled low over his eyes. But he was watching. That much was clear.

Was it him?

Had he come back to finish the job?

He’d destroyed one twin, so now, was he hell-bent on finishing the other?

The sweat that soaked my skin only moments ago had turned to ice, and I was shaking. I didn’t know what to do. I could open my window, maybe shout and alert my parents and the neighbours to our silent stalker, or I could stay hidden and watch him. Try to figure out what he wanted and why he was doing this. I decided I’d wait it out. In some sick, perverted way, I wanted to lure him in. Maybe this was the best way to catch him?

I kept my back flush against the side of the wall, and I watched. I watched him put out his cigarette and light another only minutes later. All the time, he stayed rooted to that spot; looking up at our house and my window, but never taking a step into the moonlight that might illuminate his features and give his identity away.

I knew it was him, though. It had to be.

This figure had the same build and emanated the same macabre aura.

I should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to stay away. Evil always did return to the scene of the crime. They lived off the grief and fear of their victims, and that’s what he thought I was.

A victim.

Like a demon feeding off the weak, he’d come for sustenance, but he wouldn’t get it. I wasn’t weak and I’d never be his prey. He might have gotten to Brodie, but I was still alive, here to fight back. I’d always fight back when it came to him.

I heard shuffling coming from the hallway and then the bathroom light came on, bathing the back garden in a blanket of light. The orange tip of his cigarette hit the floor fast and he faded into the thick set of conifer trees, slipping into the darkness to become one with the shadows. I heard Dad finish up in the bathroom, then the light went off again, but he didn’t come back. The dark figure from my waking nightmares was gone.

But he’d return.

I knew that much.

And when he did, I’d be ready for him.

I didn’t sleep much that night. Thoughts of revenge consumed me and made my mind whirl with the possibilities. In the light of day, I knew I needed to speak to Jensen and the others. My own strengths were limited, and when it came to Brandon Mathers, I’d need more than a sharp mind and a grudge to beat him. I needed power too. Knowledge and power. That was something I felt sure the Lockwood brothers could give to me. They had enough dirt on Mathers, and when the time came, I knew I’d need everything I could use against him. I needed a fully loaded arsenal.

I managed to drag myself out of bed, shower, and change. I felt proud of myself for making the effort, but I had to. If I stayed in bed all day crying, it wouldn’t do any good. I needed to keep myself busy. Wallowing wouldn’t bring Brodie back, but action might help to stop me from staying trapped in the well of despair I was currently locked into.

I headed downstairs to the kitchen where I could hear Mum and Dad chatting over their morning coffee, discussing the wake and how proud Brodie would’ve been. Mum started to cry, and when I walked in, Dad was holding her. When she saw me, she pulled away, trying to paint on a fake smile.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Mum. If you want to cry, cry.” She reached over to me and pulled me in for a hug.

“You were so brave yesterday. We will get through this. It might not feel like it now, but someday… a long, long way off, we’ll heal. We’ll learn to live again. It’ll never go away, but we’ll get better at dealing with it. At least, that’s what Doctor Meredith says.”

Mum had been seeing a counsellor since Brodie died. Doctor Meredith O’Neill was her lifeline most days. Mum had her number on speed dial and used it readily.

“You should come with me today. I’m seeing her at two. She could help you too, Harper. It helps to talk.”

I shook my head. I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about what’d happened, least of all a complete stranger.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I have work.” Both of my parents scoffed as soon as I spoke.

“You can’t go to work. Not today. You only buried your brother yesterday. They won’t expect you in,” Dad said, and they frowned at me, but I wasn’t going to be swayed.

“I can’t sit around here all day moping either. I want to go to work. It’ll keep me busy. I love my job.” I gave a weak smile that didn’t reach my eyes and my parents huffed out their annoyance, but surprisingly, they dropped the subject.

“At least let me make you breakfast.” Dad sighed, opening the cupboards and pulling out a frying pan.