Fear Zero: The Fear Trilogy, #1

By Doro Ferrell

The Child Becomes the Man

Matt is imprisoned for murder when he is ten years old. He battles guards, prisoners, and the system in order to survive. Will he live until he is 16?

The Prolog to The Fear Trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tedorigawa Bookmakers
• Release date: Sep 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393515982

Book preview

Fear Zero

Book Zero of The Fear Trilogy

By

Doro Ferrell

One

S top it! Leave her alone! Matt punched his father in the chest.

His father looked down at him. He laughed. Ah, is the big man tryin’ ta protect his mommy? Isn’t that cute. His father laughed again. He put his hands on his knees and bent down to Matt’s level. Gonna beat me up, are ya? Well, go ahead you little prick.

Please. Leave him alone, please.

Shut the fuck up! Did I tell you you could open that fucking hole of yours?

Both Matt and his father looked at the woman. She cowered against the unpainted wall, her hands in front of her face.

So, is little Matty gonna hurt daddy? Huh?

Matt spit in his father’s face. He kicked him in the leg, hard.

You little shit! Matt’s father grabbed Matt by his left arm. He threw him across the room.

Matt smacked against the unpainted wall. He crashed to the wooden floor.

His father limped over to him. He yanked him up by his left arm again. He spun around. He let go. Matt flew across the room. He bounced off the broken couch. He smashed against the table. Blood spewed from his forehead.

Please, his mother begged.

Shut up, whore. Matt’s father kicked her in the stomach. He stepped towards Matt, then stopped. He looked down at his wife. He smiled. Yeah, he sneered. He kicked her in the stomach again. Get used to it, kid, it’s all you’re gonna get, he kicked her again, in this life; kickin’. He reached down and smacked his wife in the head. Hard. You think I’m bringin’ a Jeeter mongrel into this world?! He hit his wife in the temple. Hard. With his fist. You think you’re having a baby? Huh? Do ya?! He pounded on his wife again and again and again. In the head. In the face. In the stomach.

Matt wasn’t sure what happened next. He remembered standing up. He remembered the taste of his blood streaming down his face. He saw his mother limp on the floor; her body jerking away from the kicks and blows like a doll; like a damaged doll. He remembered having the lamp in his hand.

His father bought the lamp in a Conglomerate junk store because it was cheap. It was heavy. It worked for a few seasons; Matt’s father said he’d fix it when he got around to it. It sat on the floor beside the broken couch for at least three seasons.

He remembered the policewoman’s smell. She smelled like comfort and fear; like hugs and authority.

You just sit right here, now, okay? Her voice was soft but Matt knew he shouldn’t argue. He sat.

He watched the policemen photograph his living room. He saw a woman in a white coat kneel beside his mother. She touched her mother’s head and then placed three fingers on her neck. Matt remembered her three fingers and wondered, why three? Why not four?

The woman in white took a big tube out of a bag. She touched his mother’s head with the tube and held it there. She took it away and looked at it but Matt didn’t see her reaction because the policewoman suddenly appeared in front of him.

Okay, Matt, she smiled. We’re going to take you to our police car now, okay? She said it like a question but even at ten years of age, Matt knew it wasn’t; it was a command. He stood up.

The woman in white put the tube back in her bag. She said something to a policeman, who turned and looked at Matt. The woman turned and saw Matt, too. She smiled, but it was a tired smile of someone who had seen too much of death to ever be happy again.

Say, Matt, the policewoman said. Her big hand rested on Matt’s shoulder. She was simultaneously comforting him and guiding him out of his living room. Your grandparents live in town?

Matt shook his head.

Either of them? I mean your daddy’s daddy live in town?

Matt didn’t shake his head; he didn’t know. He had never met his father’s parents. His father had never talked about them either.

How ‘bout your mommy’s mommy? She live in town?

Dunno, Matt said. He met his mother’s mother once or twice. He heard his mother talking to his grandmother on the phone a lot, though. But he didn’t know where she lived. Or if he had a grandfather on his mother’s side.

Well, the policewoman said; Matt could hear the smile. We’ll find ‘em if we have to, right?

Matt didn’t nod or shake his head as she opened the back door of a police car and urged him in with a slight push on his shoulder. He climbed it. All he could see were the back of the front seats and the doors.

Call CS yet? A policeman asked.

Not yet, the policewoman answered. Scanned his ID number; just waitin’ for it now.

Matt saw the policeman look at something in the policewoman’s lap. He heard her tap a few keys.

Oh, shit, she said.

Two

N ow, this ain’t no trial, okay? This is just a little conversation ‘tween you and the judge. You be respectful, now. Okay? She straightened his tie as he sat on the hard wooden bench in the hallway. But don’t you look all nice, though. Wasn’t it nice of Mrs Freedman to get you this suit?

Matt nodded. He looked up and down the hall until he realized he was looking for his mother. When he was worried or scared, he went to his mother and she’d hug and comfort him. He realized the policewoman was trying to be his mother, but it wasn’t working. She was too nice. Sweet and nice. It was sickening.

Matt McKenzie? A man called from the big doors down the hall.

Right here, the policewoman replied; her voice direct and official. She pulled Matt up by his left arm and knelt down in front of him. Be nice. Be respectful. Answer all their questions truthfully. Understand?

Matt nodded. The stiff collar of his new shirt dug into his neck.

The man waited as the policewoman walked Matt to the big doors; her hand on his shoulder was both comforting and fearful. At the doors, she let go and the man ushered him inside.

Good luck, the policewoman called as the doors slid shut.

The man marched to the front of the  room. He pointed at a chair and Matt guessed he was supposed to sit there, so he did.

Case 07260. McKenzie Matthew. Age 10. The man rattled off Matt’s ID number, his address, his mother’s name and job; factory laborer and father’s name and job;. unemployed.

What is Mr McKenzie charged with?

As far as Matt could tell, this voice, tired and bored, came from the ceiling; or maybe that big box at the front of the room.

Matricide, the man said.

Circumstances?

Matt realized the man