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Part I
The Early Years
1
Zachary King
Thirty Years Ago
Aged 9
* * *
Her screams called me.
They woke me in the night. It had been months since the last time, so I’d expected them for weeks. Dad had been getting angrier every day, and I knew that meant screams would come soon. Either from me or from them. I didn’t know which type Dad preferred more.
I left my bed and crept down the hallway. It was a bad idea. I’d never done it before, but I wanted to know what was happening to make those girls scream and cry so bad.
If Mum or Dad caught me, I knew I’d be in for it. Dad would probably burn more cigarettes into my skin, or break my arm again, but I was getting good at zoning out when he did that. I’d found a way to ignore the pain. I’d found the voices in my head to talk to while he hurt me. They never let me down.
A loud scream came from the room at the bottom of the stairs—the room I wasn’t ever allowed in. I froze. My head felt really warm. Full. Like hot, thick liquid filled it. And my heart beat fast and hard. I worried that it might get too big for my chest. I wasn’t sure if that could happen, but it really felt like it could.
When the screams stopped, I carefully stepped onto the first step of the staircase. I made sure to be very quiet. I even held my breath. That wasn’t hard to do. Being scared often made me do that. I could hold my breath for longer than anyone I knew.
I’d almost made it to the bottom when another scream sounded. My father spoke then, causing me to freeze again. “You think you’re leaving here, bitch? No one fucking leaves here. I’m going to choke the fucking life out of you while I fuck you.”
My arms and legs turned to jelly, and my whole body felt hot. I knew what fucking was. My school friends talked about sex. Mikey had even shown me one of his dad’s videos. But somehow I knew this wasn’t what we talked about at school. Something in the way my dad said that she wasn’t leaving here made me think this was very bad. It was the same way he spoke to me when he hurt me.
“Lois!” my father barked. “Pass me that fucking knife.”
The sounds of my mother doing as he’d said came through the wall in between us.
And then the screams came again.
I heard a funny grunting noise after that, and I couldn’t stop myself—I took the last few steps so I could see what they were doing.
I stood completely still when I finally saw what my parents did in this room to make girls scream. Mum sat in a chair in the corner of the room watching my father having sex with a naked girl on a mattress on the floor. The girl’s hands were tied together above her head, and her body jerked all over the place. Dad’s hands squeezed her neck, and I knew he was making it really hard for her to breathe.
I wanted to yell at him to stop.
He was hurting her so bad.
I wanted to run back up the stairs and hide under my covers.
I wanted to leave this house and never come back again.
But I did nothing.
I watched my father.
And I hated myself.
I hated that I liked watching him hurt her.
I hated that I was glad he was hurting her rather than me.
2
King
Seventeen Years Ago
Aged 22
* * *
Rage was better than misery.
And blood was better than tears.
My president and I agreed upon that.
Jethro stood over Shark, who lay sprawled on the dirt out the back of the clubhouse, his angry red face glaring down at the club member who’d provoked his rage. “Did you really think you’d get away with peddling that shit on the side? You thought I’d never find out?”
Shark, the idiot, had been selling coke for the past month to a bunch of kids from the local high school. He’d skimmed some off the club supply and pocketed the cash for himself. At first, it had been such a small amount that it had gone undetected. But greed always won in life, and he’d taken enough last week for Jethro to notice. Our president’s ruthless way of dealing with betrayal like this meant it had only taken him a day to find out who was responsible.
And here we were, watching Shark’s punishment.
Or should I say, his torture, because Jethro was just getting started. By the time he was done, Shark wouldn’t be recognisable. He also wouldn’t be breathing.
Every cell in my body roared to life as I watched Jethro deliver the punishment. I hungered for this kind of violence, the kind inflicted as retribution, and although I wasn’t the one to deliver it, I could taste the sweet victory of it as I zeroed in on the blood dripping from his mouth.
When Shark didn’t answer him, Jethro smashed his heavy boot down onto Shark’s face, gri
nding it harder into the ground. “Answer me!”
My restraint stretched close to breaking point. It took everything to hold myself back. To not push Jethro out of the way and shove my boot in Shark’s face.
Shark writhed on the ground and tried like hell to push Jethro off him, but our president’s strength was unrivalled. When Shark wasn’t forthcoming with an answer, Jethro yanked him up off the ground and slammed him against the brick wall of the clubhouse.
He gripped the front of Shark’s shirt. “You wanna know what we do to members who betray the club?”
Struggling for breath, with his face swelling and cut to shit, Shark managed to get out, “I swear I’ll never do it again, Jethro. I swear!”
