Tortured Souls (Rebels of Sandland Book 2)

by Nikki J Summers

  I took another step forward, knowing the crunch from the shards of glass under my feet would alert him to my presence. I’d hidden in the shadows long enough. Today was my resurrection, as far as Finn was concerned, anyway. The rest of them could rot in hell, for now. He spun round when he heard me and dropped his arms by his sides.

  “Jesus. Fuck. Brandon. Where have you been? We’ve all been worried about you, mate.” He stayed rooted to the spot and watched me like I was a wounded animal and he wanted to tend to me but was fearful that I’d strike out in my pain-induced haze.

  “Mate.” I laughed sarcastically. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late for you to call me that? Mates don’t shit all over each other.” I folded my arms and stared him down. I’d always been good at controlling him, using my words and my actions to mould him into what I wanted.

  “I never shit on you. None of us did. It got out of hand, but if you’d stuck around, we could’ve sorted it.”

  Finn put his spray can on the floor and showed he was getting fucking brave when he took a step towards me. I matched his bravery with my own and took a step into him. He looked tired and his eyes were dark and hollow. He probably thought the exact same about me.

  “Too late.” I gave him my signature evil grin. The one I usually saved for the ring. “I’m not sticking around to get crucified by this town. Fucking punk-ass motherfuckers can go to hell.”

  “Mate… Brandon,” he corrected himself. “We want to help. Ryan saw Harper yesterday, and-”

  Hearing her name spoken by him made me want to tear bricks out of the walls with my bare hands.

  “Save that bullshit for someone who gives a fuck,” I spat, feeling ready to do some artwork of my own with someone’s intestines.

  “But you don’t need to stay away. Harper said-”

  Again with the Harper bullshit. I didn’t want to hear that name come out of his mouth. I didn’t want anyone to say her name.

  “I couldn’t give a fuck what she said. Bitch is out to ruin me. I’m gonna ruin her first.”

  “She doesn’t deserve that. Whatever you’re thinking, she doesn’t deserve it.” He shook his head, looking green, like it was his sister I’d just threatened. Dude needed to calm the fuck down. She wasn’t his to defend. Was this girl intent on infiltrating every inch of my life? First Ryan, and now Finn?

  “I’ll be the judge of what she deserves. Now, do you want to do me a favour or not? I thought mates helped each other.”

  “They do and I will. What do you need?”

  Good old Finn. I knew I could rely on him.

  “I need a phone. Get some minutes and data on it too. Can you sort that for me now?”

  “You know I can. But aren’t you coming back? After the Lockwoods withdrew their statements, the police dropped the case.”

  A lightning bolt shot through my skull at what he’d said. But it didn’t make sense and I didn’t trust it for a second. If anything, this was a set-up to lure me out of hiding. Shit was always shady where the Lockwoods were concerned, and I’d had my fair share of bullshit off them over the years.

  “The fuck? Why would they do that? What’s in it for them?”

  I frowned, my head starting to hurt from thinking about what those fuckers were up to. Harper too. My feisty little one was growing bigger claws, but she needed them clipped. She needed to be put in her place.

  “On second thoughts, don’t answer. They’re up to something. They always are.”

  Finn nodded, but I knew he didn’t agree. He always saw the best in people. It was his biggest downfall and the reason he needed me around. I trusted no one.

  “So, when can you get me the phone?” I asked, growing impatient. I’d been there for three minutes already and that was too long. “I don’t want to be hanging around for much longer, mate.”

  “I’ll head into town now and get one. Can you give me a couple of hours?” Finn started gathering his gear together, ready to leave.

  “I’ll give you one hour, then I’m gone. Don’t let me down.”

  He looked up at me, trying to hide his anxiety. He knew I meant it.

  “Oh, and Finn? Don’t tell anyone else you saw me. I came to you ‘cos I know you can keep your mouth shut.”

  Forty minutes later, Finn came back to the underpass with the latest iPhone and a shitload of free data. I knew there was a reason he was my favourite. If you asked him for a pound, he’d give you two and ask if there was anything else you needed.

  “Will you at least tell me where you’re staying?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned.

  “I’m okay. I have a roof and four walls. That’s all you need to know. When I’m ready to tell more, you’ll be the first person I come to.”

  He seemed happy with that answer and gave a weak smile.

  “They miss you, you know. We all do.”

  And I call bullshit.

  “Didn’t stop them doing the gigs again though, did it? Those parties were my idea. I deserve a cut.” It still stung that they’d done that without me. Those were my events. Damn it, I was the fucking event. People only came to watch me fight.

  “And if you come back, you’ll get a cut.” He sighed. “Do you need any money? I don’t have much, but whatever I’ve got you can have.”

  I needed to start teaching him to defend himself again. Weak fucker was gonna get his ass kicked for being so damn nice.

  “I’m good, but thanks.”

  “For what it’s worth,” he added. “They didn’t want to start it all up again without you. And to be honest, it’s just not the same. We needed the extra cash though, and we’ve been chipping in to help your nan.”

  “Yeah, she told me.” I let slip and then covered my mouth, realising what I’d said.

  “We guessed she knew where you were. Didn’t push it though. She’s your nan. Be careful though. I think the Lockwoods are watching her.”

  Fucking Lockwoods could watch all they wanted. If I got my hands on them going anywhere near my nan, they wouldn’t have eyes to watch her with. Burning their cars was just the start as far as I was concerned.

  “I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t get caught. I’d never put her in danger and I’d never let them hurt her either,” I stated, as if it needed saying. Finn knew me. He knew what I was capable of.

  “Cool. Well, you know where I am if you ever need me, bro.”

  “Yeah, down here mooning over a ten-foot portrait of Effy fucking Spencer.”

  He went bright red, like I hadn’t guessed who it was he was painting. Dude was flogging a dead horse with that one.

  “If you want my advice, you’ll give it up. Fuck them, but never let them get their claws in and never stick to one girl.”

  “Effy’s not like that.”

  I laughed at his naivety.

  “They’re all like that. Trust me. You come first.”

  And with that little nugget of wisdom, I left him to brood over his artwork and the hopelessness of his case.

  I didn’t want to be here.

  If it wasn’t a stipulation from my workplace that I attend, I wouldn’t be.

  I sat twiddling my thumbs as the counsellor from occupational health wittered on about the merits of grievance counselling and the statistics for successful phased returns to work after a breakdown like mine. He said all the right things. They were there to support me. They wanted what was best. But spending a rainy Wednesday afternoon in this guy’s stuffy office, bobbing my head like a nodding dog in the back window of a granny’s car wasn’t helping at all. He was speaking and I didn’t want to listen.

  “Everything we say here is strictly confidential. Unless you tell me something that I feel could or would cause you harm, then I’ll need to report it to other agencies.”

  So not confidential at all then.

  “But I will always ask for your permission to share anything. You can trust me, Harper.”

  Yeah, no. I was jumping through his hoops because I had to. I had no choice. But if he thoug
ht I’d open up to him after sitting there for ten minutes, he was kidding himself.

  “Do you want to tell me a bit about what happened?” He sat forward in his chair, his focus trained solely on me.

  “My twin brother died. Well, I say died, he was murdered.” I shrugged like it was nothing. It fucking wasn’t.

  “Murdered? Do you want to elaborate? I understand if it’s too difficult at the moment.”

  He started to scribble down notes, and I stared at the wall opposite with its framed awards that meant absolutely nothing.

  Did I want to elaborate?

  I guessed it wouldn’t hurt to put out there what was already common knowledge. Everyone in Sandland knew about Brodie.

  “He was in a fight. The guy hit him, and he went down, banging his head off the concrete floor and fracturing his skull. He bled out on that floor. A filthy barn with hay and shit everywhere. It was degrading.”

  Counsellor guy stopped writing and looked up. Despite what I’d thought only moments ago, I was starting to open up. I had to offload. The whole sordid saga had built up inside of me, like bile that clung to every inch of my soul, stagnant, and damaging for far too long. I needed a release.

  “I held him in my arms as he died. I’ve still got the clothes I wore that night too. They’re covered in blood, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of them. I need to keep them.”

  “Why do you need to keep them, Harper?”

  I looked at him like he was an idiot.

  “Because they remind me of what happened and what I need to do next.”

  “And what is that?”

  Did he really need to ask?

  My need to impress this guy had long since flown out the window and I couldn’t hold back from blurting out what truly lay in my heart.

  “Get revenge. He needs to pay for what he’s done to us, what he did to Brodie that night. He can’t just get away with it. No one else seems bothered about making him pay, but I am, and I will. Make him pay, that is.”

  Counsellor guy huffed out through his nose, like what I’d said had offended him. I couldn’t care less.

  “Do you think it’s healthy to hold on to that anger and use it in this way? Anger is a valid reaction to your grief, and it’s natural to attach that anger to someone else. But the way you’re talking now? The fire that’s suddenly ignited in you? You seem consumed by this other man and the want for revenge. This is the first time I’ve seen you get animated today. But negativity breeds negativity, Harper.”

  “Consumed?” I started shaking. I couldn’t believe he was arguing with me. “He killed my brother. I’m consumed by thoughts of what I want to do to him to make him suffer.”

  “But you’d never act those out, would you?” He was staring at me now, notepad discarded, and he was poised, waiting for me to say the wrong thing. He was trying to trick me.

  “Why not?” I said, holding my chin higher in defiance.

  He shook his head.

  “I think you could benefit from some one-to-one counselling. You are placing a lot of your energy into something which is ultimately going to destroy you from the inside out. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Yeah, I do, and I want to tell you to fuck off. If I want revenge, I’ll get it.

  “Harbouring anger, guilt, all of that is normal. But to seek out revenge is something else entirely. It’s not healthy.”

  I flipped, feeling backed into a corner by his fake sincerity.

  “So, he can terrorise me, but I have to take it? I can’t fight back?”

  He started to root around in his folder, then he pulled out a piece of paper to read from.

  “I have a note here that says you thought you saw someone in your back garden.” He looked back up at me. “Are you seeing things like that a lot?”

  The ringing in my ears intensified. My throat dried up, and I reached for the plastic cup of water to help me speak.

  “That was a private matter. My parents swore they wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  My inner circle of trust was dwindling fast. In fact, I doubt you could call one person a circle. The only person I could trust was me.

  “They only told me after we booked this appointment. They want to help you. They want us to help you. We can only do that if we have all the facts. Do you see things? Do you hear voices?”

  All the fucking time.

  “No. I didn’t see something that wasn’t there, if that’s what you’re implying.” I left it at that. I doubted he’d take my other sightings of Mathers seriously.

  “I think you’re giving this man way too much power over you,” he said, looking at me with kindness in his eyes. “The key to healing is letting go of some of that anger you’re bottling up. I’m not saying that’ll happen overnight, but we can help you with that, with intensive counselling.”

  Nobody had power over me. Least of all Brandon fucking Mathers. I’d never bow down. No matter how much he taunted me.

  “Why would I want to let go of the anger? It’s all I’ve got.”

  “Because it’s hurting you way more than it’ll ever hurt him.” He sighed. “I have read a little about what happened to Brodie. I also know the police aren’t pressing charges. It’s being recorded as accidental death, is that right?”

  “That’s bullshit. The whole brain aneurysm and Brodie tripping himself, it’s all complete and utter bullshit. I know what I saw.”

  “And no one is trying to take that away from you. What we want is to get you well. And you’re not well, Harper. For the next few months, we need to make your mental health the main focus. You are the most important person in all of this. Not him. Not the murderer. You. Do you think wherever he is now that he’s thinking about you?”

  I knew he was.

  “No, he’s not,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “He’s living his life. We need to find a way back so that you can do the same.”

  This guy was clueless, but I knew I wasn’t being heard. I was getting nowhere fast.

  “I will go to counselling,” I said to get him off my back. “My mum is seeing Doctor O’Neill. I’ve already told her I’ll go and see her too.” I wouldn’t, but I wasn’t about to let him book me in with one of their quacks.

  “Ah, Meredith. We know her. She’s one of the best.”

  Fucking great. Now I had to hope he didn’t contact her asking for updates. Mind you, he did say he’d need my permission to talk about me.

  “I know,” I answered, giving him a fake smile of hope. “I also have a few leaflets my friend gave me.” I grabbed Emily’s brochures out of my bag to show him, feeling proud that I had something with me to make it look like I was trying to jump his hurdles. “These really help too.”

  “That’s very good, Harper. Great that you have a friend who’s supporting you and finding these avenues of support for you. Have you rung any of them? Made any appointments?”

  “No. I have been online. I went on the chatrooms… On this one.” I showed him the pamphlet. “The people on there seemed nice. Genuine.”

  “That’s… great. But you need to be careful. Some of these chatrooms aren’t as safe as they seem. People online are different to how they would be in real life.”

  Here we go again.

  “I know. I’m not a kid. We teach about e-safety in school. I’m not about to start typing in my personal details or arranging to meet up with anyone. I do have a neutral username. I know what I’m doing.” I shoved the leaflets back into my handbag, feeling embarrassed that I’d opened up and shown them to him.

  “But that’s the problem,” he said. “In grief, often we don’t know what we’re doing. We can’t make good judgement calls and we act out of character. You’re vulnerable right now and I’d hate to see someone take advantage.”

  “I know I need to be on my guard. I only went online to read the chats. They’re funny. They made me laugh.” I was seconds away from standing up and leaving. I didn’t need to justify myself or my actions to this man.


  “Well, that’s good. As long as you keep it that way, you shouldn’t have to worry.”

  I frowned. Why would a charity set up to help people dealing with bereavement have chatrooms that were unsafe? Surely someone policed them. I asked him that very question, feeling like I needed to vindicate myself.

  “I’m sure they do. But my priority is your wellbeing, so I’m always going to tell you to exercise caution. Maybe get out with real friends more. Being with other people, getting outside, is far more beneficial to your mental health than any online community. Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”

  I didn’t agree. I had no friends to call on. Plus, that forum had made me laugh for the first time in weeks. If I wanted to go on there and ask them how to make a bloody bomb to blow up Sandland, I would. No one would tell me what to do. This was my life. I would live it how I wanted. And after the past few weeks, I wanted to live it for Brodie. To do the things he couldn’t. I knew what he’d do if he was still here, and it wouldn’t be pissing about in a counsellor’s office or chatting with fake friends over coffee.

  Thirty minutes later, and I was sprinting out of that counsellor’s office like my life depended on it. I couldn’t escape fast enough. The air in the building was stifling, and it wasn’t to do with their lack of air conditioning. I’d had about all I could manage for one day.

  I stomped over to my car parked towards the back of their cramped car park and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw it.

  A single white rose lay underneath my windscreen wiper.

  He was here.

  Anger bubbled and coursed inside me, but it didn’t make me weak. It burned a fire in my soul. My broken, bruised, and battered soul. He thought he could play me. Intimidate and scare me into submission, to do what? Take me further down than I already was?