Eight Dread

By Heidy Hardaker

Dylan is forced into a difficult situation find Rebel or suffer at the hands of his tormentor, Kat. His life has been shaped by the brutal killing of his family at the hands of the twisted Kat. The games she plays with his life have stripped it of all meaning and joy. After a ten year absence she is back to manipulate him into the deadly clutches of WeCo. A company that rivals Kat's sadistic nature.

Rebel's self-destructive nature is mystery even to herself. After a brutal fight with Kat, Rebel's memories have disappeared. The only thing Rebel remembers, from her old life, is chasing dangerous criminals and giving them to their victims. But now she is the target of Kat's relentless rage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heidy Hardaker
• Release date: Oct 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393041764

Heidy Hardaker

Just because your creativity is not valued does not mean that there is no value in the process: in the skills you learn along the way, in the self-awareness you gain and determination that you find within yourself. There is something only you can give. True success is when you are true to yourself. So never give up.

Book preview

1

The fog descended on the grainy sand until the lapping waves disappeared beneath it. Rebel’s breath billowed out as she trudge forward. Her bare feet were numb. She could no longer feel the wounds that she was inflicting on herself as the crackling seashells broke through her delicate skin. The fog was so thick that it looked like she was floating above it. Even though she was blind to her surroundings, she continued to move away from the dark figure. There was a chance that he was not chasing her and that her pain was for nothing.

Her knees dug into the soft sand before her hands hit the shells. She had fallen face first into the turbulent waves. The salty water splashed into her mouth but she did not have the energy to cough instead she tilted her head and let it drip out. Her dress was absorbing the water faster than her unstable legs could stand.

The stranger’s hand brushed against her back.

Her heart started to rage against her chest. She wanted to scream but her dry mouth would not comply with her request.

‘Are you okay?’ The man’s gruff voice sent shivers down her spine.

She gasped.

‘Miss?’ His hand shot out.

Rebel tilted her head sideways.

‘These look like a torture device but you shouldn’t be out here walking without shoes. You’ll catch your death.’

Her stilettos were in his hand, the broken heel was dangling down. There was nowhere to hide, her scarlet dress was the only colour to be found in the dreary night.

Before she could speak, the pressure on her feet disappeared as he scooped her up and walked away from the beach. She looked down at her feet, they were a mess of blood and debris.

‘My name is Brent,’ he said. He was carrying her like she was a feather. It was as if he did it every day and it no longer fazed him. He did not miss a step, even with the heavy dress that had absorb at least a litre of seawater.

She stared at him. His face was haggard, his features were warped. There was no symmetry to his image and no pride in his presentation. His white shirt was crinkled and stained. The sweet smell of his perfume was overpowering but it did nothing to mask the putrid smell of vomit and death. It clung to him.

‘I’m an embalmer,’ he grunted as he ascended the stairs. ‘This is my business and my home.’

The mechanism on the door made a whirling sound. It startled her. Her vision was minimised as the light flooded through the gap. Eventually all she could see was the fluorescent light.

‘Don’t be frightened,’ he whispered as he placed her on a cold surface.

Her lip quivered.

‘Sorry about the table, it’s not meant for the living.’ Brent smiled at her before he removed his thick coat and placed it on the table. ‘Sit on this.’

The wall moved back into place. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he had pressed a button on his watch.

He followed her eye line, ‘I designed it myself. On the outside it looks like an unmovable wall but on the inside you can see that it lowers into the floor. Impressed?’

Her eyes flickered across the narrow room. There was no way to leave the space without his watch. She was inside a prison. The concrete walls were coated in scrawls, it was the focal point of the dull grey box.

‘What’s your name?’ He asked as he turned his back on her.

Her eyes were glued to him.

‘This is going to hurt,’ he said as he spun towards her. ‘You’ve made a mess.’

The cotton bud was pressed gently against her foot but she could not feel it. In his other hand he held a syringe with a long needle.

‘Can you please tell me your name?’ His tone shifted from gentle to forceful. ‘I