The Early Years: The MisFit, #1

By AB Plum

A chilling look at what lurks in the dark corners of an eleven-year-old boy's twisted heart …

Michael Romanov is genius-bright. Cute. Self-reliant. Inventive. Ridiculous to think he's a killer. A killer without remorse. Or regret. Or guilt. Impossible to believe he's a psychopath.

His mother would rather kiss a cobra than touch him, but he never complains about her calculated insults and contempt. Never whines about his older brother's relentless bullying. Never moans about his father's overt collusion and neglect.

Pushed too far, Michael retaliates. He pulls off his brother's murder without a hitch. Requiring more excitement, he orchestrates his mother's descent into hell with the same cool detachment. Success is giddy.

What's next?

Keeping his mother in his crosshairs sounds like fun …

***

Read all of the books in The MisFit series:

The Early Years
The Lost Days
The In-Between Years
The Reckless Year
The Dispensable Wife
The Broken-Hearted Many
The Whole Truth

• Language: English
• Publisher: AB Plum
• Release date: Oct 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386605645

Book preview

Dedication

As always, David, thank you for your help.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Epigraph

Prologue

Chapter 1: A Deadly Accident

Chapter 2: A Necessary Lie

Chapter 3: Motherly Love

Chapter 4: Bad News

Chapter 5: Worse News

Chapter 6: Whatever It Takes

Chapter 7: First Things, First

Chapter 8: Kill the Messenger

Chapter 9: No Mistakes

Chapter 10: The Strange Faces of Grief

Chapter 11: Mourning

Chapter 12: Ashes to Ashes

Chapter 13: Life Goes On

Chapter 14: No Regrets

Chapter 15: Cigarette Smoke

Chapter 16: Tough Love

Chapter 17: One Door Closes, Another Opens

Chapter 18: A New Face

Chapter 19: Dreams Do Come True

Chapter 20: A Bad Day Ends Well

Chapter 21: Fair Is Fair

Chapter 22: A Very Pleasant Surprise

Chapter 23: A Kindred Soul

Chapter 24: Homecoming

Chapter 25: Back to Earth

Chapter 26: Apologies Unaccepted

Chapter 27: Let the Good Times Roll

Chapter 28: A Dream Deferred

Chapter 29: First Plan Executed

Chapter 30: Burying the Past

Chapter 31: Sweet Revenge

Chapter 32: Extreme Satisfaction

Chapter 33: Just Desserts

Chapter 34: Blood Vows

Chapter 35: Time Passes

Chapter 36: Finding Adventure

Chapter 37: A Gift for a Queen

Chapter 38: Never Judge a Package by Its Shiny Wrapping

Chapter 39: Faces of Innocence

Chapter 40: The Way to a Good Woman’s Heart

Chapter 41: A Lesson Learned

Chapter 42: Playing by the Rules

Chapter 43: Mastering Manipulation

Chapter 44: Breaking Age Barriers

Chapter 45: Keys to Lifelong Learning

Chapter 46: Eyes Are Everywhere

Chapter 47: Zeroing in on the Prey

Chapter 48: Applying Pressure

Chapter 49: A Loose Thread

Chapter 50: The Last Laugh

Acknowledgement

EPIGRAPH

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

Mother Goose

PROLOGUE

Unhealable Scars

Older brother. Handsome. Princely.

Older brother. Father’s favorite.

Older brother. Undeserving heir.

Older brother. Mother’s favorite.

Older brother. Overly admired.

Older brother. Chosen one. Indulged.

Older brother. Taller. Meaner. Taunted me.

Older brother. Underestimated me. Big mistake.

Open Wounds

Why was I unacceptable—never loveable?

Why no happiness at my birth?

Why no celebration of my uniqueness?

Baby born bad? How’s that possible?

Baby born bad? How’s that logical?

Not my fault I was born different.

Why treat me like a misfit?

Why didn’t they love me, too?

Chapter 1

A Deadly Accident

On January 15, 1976, the plan to kill my older brother came to me fully formed.

Temperatures in København registered in the same range as those in Moscow. Everyone at Hovedbanegård (Copenhagen’s Central Train Station) wore fur-lined boots, coats, gloves, and hats. Only the stupidest bared their faces to the bitter wind and horizontal snow. Waiting passengers milled together like sheep seeking a bit of body heat.

My brother, shorter than most of the god-tall Danes, stood out because of his squared off torso—an aberrant gene, most likely, from our Finnish mother. The sheer mass of the crowd made pushing him—too close to the edge of the platform—too easy.

Everyone seemed to notice at once when he fell onto the track. Men shouted. Women screamed. Howled. Keened. As if their cries would halt the incoming train. As if the absolute volume of their cries would repel the massive engine bearing down on his stunned, prone body.

No one tried to stop me, an eleven-year-old boy, as I slipped through the crowd. Exultant over my first dispensation of justice. My chest burned with pride. Pride at my daring. Pride at executing my plan.

My only regret?

I wanted to proclaim what I had done from the rooftops. I soothed myself with the reminder that I would soon share every detail with the one person who would appreciate my brilliance and nerve.

Somehow, word of the accident spread to arriving passengers. The normally unflappable Danes were flapped. That realization kept me smiling as I trudged the opposite direction from the flock rushing toward the platform. The scalding heat in my belly countered the icy bite of snow mixed with sleet.

Morbid curiosity countered the same conditions for the fools running toward the tracks.

Five blocks from my school, I reflected on the rest of my plan. This was my first lesson in understanding implementation requires forethought and a willingness to accept personal discomfort.

Chapter 2

A Necessary Lie

Older boys attacked me with snowballs. I sniffed to keep from laughing as my fifth-grade teacher, Fru Jensen, examined my torn pants and skinned knees without laying a finger on any part of my anatomy. Her whole body bristled with distaste.

My insides jiggled with silent glee. If she only knew that, once away from the train station, I’d skated across an iced-over sidewalk a mile from Kreps’ Skole. I fell down repeatedly until both knees were bloody pulps. They hardly hurt. The clear vision of my brother plunging onto the train tracks erased the pain.

Fru Jensen clicked her tongue. Are you hurt anywhere else?

They hit me in the head. I touched the top of my skull. I think one of their missiles contained rocks.

You must go to the school nurse. Can you walk? Shall I accompany you?

And let my classmates call me pussy behind my back? Thank you, Fru Jensen. I can walk by myself.

As I left my classroom, I curbed my impulse to strut. From my study of Machiavelli, I’d learned the power of deceit.

Twenty minutes later, the assistant headmaster Herr Petersen reported he’d called my house. My mother was indisposed. My father had not yet reached his office. What to do with me?

Had I been less different—more like my Danish classmates—I’m sure Herr Petersen would have expressed a bit of sympathy for my knees now bandaged as a precaution according to the nurse. He must’ve debated whether sending me home on the street car with Dimitri was ethical.

It was snowing harder. Dimitri was only nine months older than me. Perhaps Herr Petersen’s Danish conscience reminded him I was a child. In the end, the assistant headmaster insisted on escorting us to the streetcar, then riding to the house in Hellerup where Dimitri lived with us.

Dimitri is also different—though not quite as nerve-jarringly different.

Sending us both home must’ve allowed the school administrators a collective sigh.

As we trudged to the street car stop, Herr Petersen marveled aloud at what the world was coming to so long after the War when young ruffians would attack a schoolboy on his way to school. Of course, attending my elite school carried the danger of attracting riff-raff. Implicit in his tone was the suggestion I had somehow provoked the attack.

Brilliant educator that he was, Herr Petersen failed to notice that my attackers couldn’t have seen my prestigious school uniform under my thick, fur-lined coat.