Skarred

By Aaron Abilene

A brutal tale of a man's quest for revenge while also dealing with severe mental issues brought on by what he went through.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Syphon Creative
• Release date: Jan 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224394067

Book preview

Skarred

Aaron Abilene

Published by Syphon Creative, 2024.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

SKARRED

First edition. January 10, 2024.

Copyright © 2024 Aaron Abilene.

ISBN: 979-8224394067

Written by Aaron Abilene.

Also by Aaron Abilene

505

505: Resurrection

Balls

Dead Awake (Coming Soon)

Before The Dead Awake (Coming Soon)

Carnival Game

Full Moon Howl

Donovan

Shades of Z

Deadeye

Deadeye & Friends

Cowboys Vs Aliens

Ferris

Life in Prescott (Coming Soon)

Afterlife in Love (Coming Soon)

Island

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The Lost Island

The Lost Island 2

The Lost Island 3

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Pandemic

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Prototype

The Compound

Slacker

Slacker 2

Slacker: Dead Man Walkin'

Texas

A Vampire in Texas

Thomas

Quarantine

Contagion

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Isolation

Immune

Pathogen

Bloodline (Coming Soon)

Decontaminated (Coming Soon)

Virus

Raising Hell

Zombie Bride

Zombie Bride

Zombie Bride 2

Zombie Bride 3

Standalone

The Victims of Pinocchio

A Christmas Nightmare

Pain

Fat Jesus

A Zombie's Revenge

505

The Headhunter

Crash

Tranq

The Island

Dog

The Quiet Man

Joe Superhero

Feral

Good Guys

Devil Child of Texas

Romeo and Juliet and Zombies

The Gamer

Becoming Alpha

Dead West

Small Town Blues

Shades of Z: Redux

The Gift of Death

Killer Claus

Skarred

Home Sweet Home

Alligator Allan

10 Days

Army of The Dumbest Dead

Kid

The Cult of Stupid

9 Time Felon

Slater

Bad Review: Hannah Dies

Me Again

Maurice and Me

Breaking Wind

The Family Business (Coming Soon)

Lightning Rider : Better Days (Coming Soon)

Lazy Boyz (Coming Soon)

Sparkles The Vampire Clown (Coming Soon)

From The Future, Stuck in The Past (Coming Soon)

Honest John (Coming Soon)

She's Psycho (Coming Soon)

Vicious Cycle (Coming Soon)

Romeo and Juliet: True Love Conquers All (Coming Soon)

Hunting Sarah (Coming Soon)

Random Acts of Stupidity (Coming Soon)

Born Killer (Coming Soon)

The Abducted (Coming Soon)

Broken Man (Coming Soon)

Graham Hiney (Coming Soon)

Paper Soldiers (Coming Soon)

Zartan (Coming Soon)

The Firsts in Life (Coming Soon)

Giant Baby (Coming Soon)

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Aaron Abilene

Skarred

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Also By Aaron Abilene

Skarred

Written by Aaron Abilene

––––––––

The city was a snarling beast of concrete and steel, its growl reverberating from the grinding subway trains below to the incessant honking of traffic above. Skyscrapers clawed at the smoggy sky with indifferent might, while neon signs flickered like the erratic pulse of a wounded animal. Shadows clung to alleyways like parasites, and even the sunlight seemed to hesitate before slinking through the polluted air onto the litter-strewn streets.

Watch your step, John muttered as he guided Sarah around a shattered bottle, its jagged remains winking ominously in the morning light. His voice was barely audible over the cacophony of urban life, but it carried the weight of constant vigilance.

I know, I know, Sarah replied, her voice a mix of exasperation and affection. She adjusted the strap of the diaper bag on her shoulder, balancing baby Emily on her other arm. Her eyes were tired, but they held a fire that not even the city's grime could smother.

Sorry, just— John began, his words trailing off as he sidestepped a dubious puddle.

Keeping us safe, Sarah finished for him, with a small smile that didn't quite chase the worry from her brow.

They moved like dancers through the throng of people, each step a practiced part of their daily choreography. John’s hand hovered near Sarah's elbow, not quite touching, as if ready to pull her away from any lurking danger. Every now and then, Emily would giggle, oblivious to the struggle that painted her parents' faces, her innocence a stark contrast to the grittiness around them.

Rent's due next week, John thought, the concern gnawing at the edges of his mind. Their savings were dwindling, scraped together from jobs that demanded sweat but offered scant reward. He felt Sarah's tension, mirroring his own, a silent conversation they had become all too adept at holding.

Maybe Mrs. Henley needs extra help at the store, Sarah suggested. Her voice held hope, but it was the thin kind, the sort that knew disappointment all too well.

Could be, John agreed, though the doubt echoed inside him. Work was scarce, and everyone they knew was clutching at it with desperate hands.

John, look, Sarah said softly, nodding toward a 'Help Wanted' sign hanging crookedly in a dingy café window. It was a small beacon amidst the tumult.

Let's check it out, he replied, the slightest lift in his tone. For him, hope was a muscle, strained and weary, yet unwilling to atrophy.

With careful steps, they approached the promise of opportunity, John's gaze never ceasing to scan their surroundings. Even hope was a risk in the city's relentless jaws, but for Emily's bright laughter and Sarah's unyielding spirit, it was a risk he’d take every time.

Keep close, John muttered, his hand finding Sarah's in a grip that was both assuring and vigilant. The city's cacophony wrapped around them like a thick fog, muffling the distant sounds of sirens blending with the erratic symphony of urban life.

Momma, Emily's voice piped up, her tiny fingers curling around John's calloused ones, why's that man yelling? John's eyes darted to where Emily pointed—a narrow alley where two shadows clashed against the graffitied walls, a tangle of anger and desperation.

Nothing for us to worry about, sweetheart, Sarah assured, her voice a practiced calm. But her eyes met John's, sharing an unspoken acknowledgment of the threat lurking at every corner.

Let's keep moving, John said, steering his family forward, away from the alley's discord. As they passed, a muffled cry punctuated by a harsh curse confirmed the violence hidden from sight but not from the reality they knew all too well.

John, behind us, Sarah whispered urgently. His senses already on high alert, John caught the tail end of a transaction—a swift exchange of shadowed wares between hands that preferred to remain unseen. He recognized the signs; the city's veins pumped with more than just traffic and noise.

Em, why don't you tell me about your day? John suggested, voice steady, even as his heart raced, pushing down the dread that clawed at his insides. It was his armor, shielding his daughter from the truths he wished she'd never have to learn.

Today, I drew a big sun with lots of colors! Emily chattered on, oblivious to the tightness in her father's voice or the alertness that turned his head this way and that, cataloging escape routes and potential threats.

Sounds beautiful, baby, Sarah smiled, squeezing John's hand tighter, a silent thank you for the fortress he built around them with his very presence.

Always bright, our girl, John commented, pride warming him against the chill of the city's underbelly. But beneath the warmth was a steel resolve. That brightness would not be dimmed, not by the darkness that thrived in the cracks of the pavement they walked upon.

Never ends, does it? Sarah's words were barely above a whisper, meant only for John as another siren wailed in the distance, a relentless reminder of the ever-present dangers.

Doesn't seem like it, John replied, his gaze scanning the sea of faces they passed—each a story, each a potential risk. But we've got each other, and that's gotta count for something.

Everything, Sarah affirmed, her belief in their little family unwavering, even as the world threatened to swallow them whole.

Remember, eyes forward, John instructed, though his own were always roving, a guardian against the chaos that seemed to snap at their heels with every step.

Like a lion, daddy? Emily questioned, innocence veiled in courage, unaware of how apt her comparison truly was.

Exactly like a lion, pumpkin, John confirmed, feeling the weight of his role—the protector, the provider, the shield. In this concrete jungle, he would be all these things and more. For them. Always for them.

The city's clamor receded as John steered Sarah and Emily through an unassuming wrought-iron gate, its paint flaking like the dreams of those who passed beneath its arch. The park was a hidden sanctuary amidst the urban sprawl, a modest expanse of green defiant against the encroachment of steel and smoke. Here, the air was clearer, laced with the scent of freshly cut grass rather than exhaust fumes.

Here we are, John sighed, his shoulders easing from their habitual hunch of vigilance as he led them to a weathered bench. The wood groaned under their weight, a familiar complaint echoing the creaks in his own bones.

Feels like we can breathe, Sarah murmured, her hand finding his, their fingers entwining like roots seeking sustenance in arid soil.

Doesn't it? John returned her squeeze, allowing himself this sliver of peace. He watched Emily toddle across the patchy lawn, her laughter bubbling over the whisper of leaves above.

Sarah rested her head against his shoulder, her hair brushing his cheek, a soft contrast to the day's harshness. John, do you think it'll ever get easier? Her voice was a thread, almost lost to the rustling canopy.

Has to, he murmured back, more conviction than certainty fueling his words. His gaze followed Emily, a tiny sentinel standing watch over their most precious treasure. We'll make it so.

Promise me something? Sarah's eyes, pools of hope in the dusk, met his.

Anything, he vowed, the word a blade forged in the fires of his resolve.

Promise we'll find a way out of here. For her. She nodded toward Emily, now plucking daisies with the focus of a jeweler selecting diamonds.

Out of all this, she swept her hand in a gesture that encompassed more than the park, more than the city—it cradled their very existence.

Sarah, John's voice was low, a rumble born of worn-out streets and whispered prayers. I swear on every star we can't see, we're gonna give her skies full of 'em.

She smiled then, a slow bloom that fought through the cracks in her weariness. Dreamer, she teased, but her grip on his hand tightened—a lifeline between them.

Always, he admitted, leaning in to press his lips to her forehead, a silent benediction. Got to dream big, especially when the world's so small for folks like us.

In the dwindling light, they sat, two figures carved from the city's rough edges. They watched Emily play, her giggles carving moments of joy from the stone of their reality. And for a heartbeat, or maybe two, the specters of violence and poverty were kept at bay by the simple magic of a family's love.

Let's just stay a little longer, Sarah whispered.

Long as we need, John replied, his eyes tracing the curve of her smile, etching it into his memory. This, he promised himself, would be the future he'd fight for—a life where whispers of love weren't drowned out by the city's roars.

The laughter of innocence, a beacon in the encroaching dark, danced on the evening air as Emily clutched at the dandelions. Her tiny fists were like stars against the dusk, each petal a promise in the gloom of the cityscape. John watched her with the intensity of a man whose world teetered on the edge of a knife—Emily, his fulcrum, the single point holding back the fall.

Look, Daddy! she squealed, raising a fluff of white seeds to the sky. The wind took them from her open palm, scattering aspirations into the twilight.

Beautiful, baby girl, John said, the gravel of reality softening in his voice. Just like you.

John, we need to talk. Sarah’s words cut through the moment, her eyes reflecting the streetlights that were flickering to life. The bills came in today.

He nodded, steeling himself for the litany of sacrifices they'd have to carve from their already meager existence. How bad?

Enough that I'm counting coins for laundry again. She sighed, her gaze never leaving Emily. Daycare's raising their prices next month. I don't know how we can—

We'll figure it out. His words were automatic, but his mind raced through the numbers that didn't add up, the hours he couldn't stretch. Action and reaction, the constant balancing act of survival in a city that devoured hope.

Maybe... maybe I can pick up another shift at the diner, Sarah suggested, but the thought was a stone in her throat. More time away from Emily, more moments lost.

Over my dead body, John muttered, the fierceness in his tone belying the fatigue etched deep in his bones. He’d worked docks, streets, construction sites - anywhere that paid in cash and asked few questions. But it was never enough. Not for rent. Not for dreams.

John, be realistic. Her hand found his, squeezing tight. We can't live on dreams.

Then we live on grit, he shot back, pulling her close. Inside, though, doubt gnawed at him like rats in the walls. What if grit wasn't enough?

Mommy, look! A shooting star! Emily pointed up, her delight oblivious to the gravity tethering her parents to harsher soils.

Make a wish, angel, Sarah whispered, her voice a mix of wonder and wistful sorrow.

Already did, John murmured under his breath, watching the fleeting light cross the murky canvas above. A wish, a prayer, for a miracle to lift them from this relentless cycle.

Mommy wishes for a new pair of shoes, Sarah played along, her smile brittle. Not ones handed down or patched up.

Shoes that can walk us right outta here, John added, half-joking, half-desperate. Maybe tomorrow he'd talk to Mickey about that job—risky, but it paid well. Maybe it could be their ticket out.

Baby needs new shoes, he thought grimly, the weight of fatherhood a heavy mantle. For Emily, he'd risk the devil himself.

Come on, let’s head back, he said, rising with purpose. They gathered their scant belongings, Emily cradled between them, her dreams untainted by the cost of living them.

Stars are nice, Emily mumbled sleepily against his shoulder, but I like when we're all together best.

Me too, angel, John agreed, his heart clenched tight. Me too.

The setting sun painted the urban sprawl in a wash of blood and rust, the city's walls scarred with graffiti like the lines of age on a warrior's face. John led Sarah and Emily through the concrete labyrinth, the echoes of their footsteps lost amid the cacophony of sirens and shouted deals. He could feel the tension coiling in Sarah’s hand as she gripped his, a silent testament to the unspoken promise that pulsed between them: together, no matter what.

John, Sarah said softly, her voice barely rising above the din, we'll make it through this.

He glanced at her, the fire escape shadows playing over her determined features. I know we will, he replied, squeezing her hand back. It was more than words; it was a lifeline thrown across the abyss of uncertainty they balanced upon.

Look, Daddy! Emily's excited squeal sliced through the grim setting as she tugged on John's other hand, pointing to a mangy stray dog chasing its tail. Her laughter, untarnished by the grit of their reality, was a melody that seemed alien yet desperately needed in the city's discordant symphony.

Round and round he goes, John couldn't help but chuckle, picking up Emily and spinning her in his arms. The world blurred for a moment, reduced to the sound of his daughter’s giggles and the warmth of her little body against his chest.

Where he stops, nobody knows! Sarah joined in, her laughter mingling with theirs, a bright thread weaving through the grime-streaked tapestry of their lives.

Again, Daddy, again! Emily's arms wrapped around his neck as he set her down, her eyes alight with joy.

As he lifted her once more, John felt the weariness in his muscles, each spin a defiance against the gravity of their plight. But the sparkle in Emily's eyes was worth every ounce of strain, a beacon guiding him through the darkest nights of doubt.

Your laughter is the best sound in the world, Sarah said, her eyes moist but shining with love. It's our music, isn't it, John?

Better than any lullaby, he agreed, lowering Emily to the ground. Their daughter reached for both their hands, completing the circle that bound them. It was a tiny island of happiness in a sea of challenges, and John soaked in every second, storing it away like a talisman against future storms.

Mommy, Daddy, I love you more than all the stars, Emily declared, her small voice fierce with conviction.

And we love you, beyond all the galaxies, Sarah responded, leaning in to brush a kiss on Emily's forehead.

Beyond even the furthest one, John affirmed, his heart swelling with an emotion so powerful it almost hurt. For a moment, the gnawing fears were silent, and all that existed was the three of them, locked in an embrace that defied their surroundings.

Promise we'll always be together like this? Emily's question was a whisper, but it echoed like a vow in John's mind.

Always, he and Sarah answered in unison, their voices a pact sealed in the gathering dusk. They stood there, three souls united, their bond a shield against the encroaching night.

The laughter of the small family reverberated through the park, a bubble of joy amidst the concrete expanse. The echo of their mirth seemed to hang in the air for a precious moment before being shattered by the harsh crack of a gunshot, slicing through the evening like a scalpel. John's head whipped around, his eyes scanning the perimeter, instincts honed from years of living on these merciless streets snapping into focus.

Get down! he barked, pushing Sarah and Emily toward the ground. They huddled together, Sarah's arms encircling Emily as tightly as the fear gripped her heart. The sound had come from the north end of the park, where shadows pooled like spilled ink beneath the flickering streetlights.

Was that—? Sarah's voice trembled, her words unfinished but understood.

Stay here. Keep Emily safe, John murmured, his gaze locked on the edge of the park where the normality of city noise was now laced with a palpable tension. He could feel the threat in the air, a storm brewing just out of sight, and his protective instincts were screaming at him to whisk his family away from this place, from this life.

John, please... Sarah's plea was a thin thread against the thickening dread, but John was already moving, inching forward to peer beyond the safety of their sanctuary. He needed to know what was coming, to be ready to defend them. His ears strained for any sound out of place, any hint of danger approaching.

John, it's not worth it, Sarah hissed, her hands clenching the fabric of his shirt as she tried to pull him back. Her eyes were wide, reflecting the dimming light and the raw fear of a mother. We should go.

Can't, John said, the word like gravel in his throat. It's too close. We run, we might run right into it. He could see in Sarah's eyes that she knew he was right, even as every fiber of her being wanted to flee.

Stay down, he whispered again, his hand lingering on her shoulder, a silent promise to protect them against the odds.

A group of men spilled into view, shadows taking form and substance as they clashed with one another. Raised voices carried over, the language of the street sharp and unforgiving. The metallic scent of apprehension filled the air, the park's tranquility now a distant memory. Emily whimpered softly, and Sarah's soothing hums mingled with the discordant symphony of the city's underbelly.

John, Sarah said, her voice barely audible over the muffled sounds of confrontation. What if—

Shh, John cut her off, his mind racing. This wasn't supposed to be their life; they were meant to rise above it all. Yet here they were, caught in the very web they sought to escape. His jaw clenched with the realization that no matter how hard they fought, the city's grip was relentless.

Look at me, he instructed, his voice a steady force. We're going to get out of this. For her. He nodded toward Emily, whose big eyes flickered with confusion and fear.

Sarah nodded, her faith in him unspoken but evident. They waited, breaths held, as the altercation escalated, the sound of flesh and bone meeting with sickening thuds reaching their ears. Then, as quickly as it began, the noise ebbed away, the participants of the brawl disappearing back into the labyrinth of alleyways and shadows.

Is it over? Sarah whispered, a hopeful note in her voice that John wished he could share.

For now, John replied, his eyes still fixed on the darkness from which the violence had momentarily emerged. But he knew better than to believe in temporary reprieves. The city didn't forgive, nor did it forget. It was only a matter of time before the next wave crashed over them.

Let's get home, he said after a pause, his tone leaving no room for argument. He helped Sarah and Emily to their feet, casting one last wary glance behind them.

As they made their way out of the park, the crack of another gunshot split the air, a cruel reminder that even moments of peace were illusions. John felt a chill settle deep within his bones, a sense of foreboding that eclipsed the fading daylight. The city was alive, and its hunger was insatiable. He squeezed Sarah's hand, a silent vow that he would fight until his last breath to keep their tiny flame of hope alive in the growing darkness.

But as the laughter of their daughter became a distant echo behind them, swallowed up by the city's cacophony, John couldn't shake the feeling that tragedy lay in wait, ready to snuff out their light without mercy or remorse.

The skeletal remains of the once formidable structure loomed over them, its broken windows like hollow eyes and crumbling walls akin to decaying flesh. The abandoned building stood as a tombstone in a graveyard of urban decay, a monument to forgotten stories and eroded dreams.

Keep close, John whispered, his voice barely rising above the crunch of debris beneath their boots. He scanned the shadows that clung to the corners with wary eyes. Sarah's hand tightened around his, her fingers cold and tense. Emily, cradled against Sarah's chest, murmured softly, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence.

Are you sure this is the way? Sarah's voice trembled slightly, betraying her fear. The darkness seemed to swallow the sound whole.

It has to be. John replied, his determination a solid thing in the murky uncertainty. They moved together, a small island of life adrift in an ocean of desolation.

John's brow furrowed as he noticed the way the moonlight painted grotesque shapes on the walls, the light flickering through the industrial filigree of exposed steel and wire. He could almost hear the whispers of the building's past violence—a ghostly chorus that resonated with his own history.

Every step feels like we're walking into a trap, Sarah muttered, echoing John's unease.

Focus on moving forward, John said, though his own heart hammered against his ribcage. I won't let anything happen to either of you.

They pressed on, the air thick with the dust of neglect. It was a tangible reminder of how far from normality they'd strayed—how they were navigating through the veins of a city's broken heart. John replayed their plan over in his mind, the route that should lead them to safety, away from the gang's relentless pursuit. Each step was a move in a deadly game of chess, and he couldn't afford to lose his queen or his littlest pawn.

John, I— Sarah began, but he silenced her with a look.

Save your strength, he whispered back, peering into the darkness. His muscles tensed, ready for any hint of danger. Emily's soft cooing was a delicate lifeline amidst the tension, a reminder of the innocence they fought to protect.

The shadows seemed to press closer, suffocating, as if the building itself resented their intrusion. John's thoughts raced—calculations of risk, pathways of escape, contingency plans—all while he led his small family through the gauntlet of ruin.

Almost there, he promised, more to himself than to Sarah or Emily. He needed to believe it was true. With every fiber of his being, John vowed to navigate them through this nightmarish labyrinth, to emerge unscathed, to reclaim a semblance of peace from the clutches of this urban wasteland.

The air was rank with mildew and decay, the silence of the derelict building broken only by the distant echo of dripping water. A rustle from the darkened corner sent a shiver down John's spine as he pressed onward, his hand firmly gripping Sarah's. He could feel her trembling even through the leather of his gloves—a shared vibration of anxiety.

Keep close, John murmured, his voice barely above a breath as he scanned the shadows with wary eyes. Emily, nestled against her mother in a makeshift sling, seemed oblivious to the danger, her tiny fingers clutching at the frayed edges of the cloth that held her secure.

John, Sarah's voice cracked, Do you hear that?

His ears pricked at the sound she'd caught—a low, guttural growling that reverberated through the empty halls. The air thickened with a sinister energy, and John knew—their predators were closing in.

Damn it, he cursed under his breath. The gang's dogs. He had hoped they'd shaken them off their trail. His hand tightened on an iron rod he'd picked up earlier—cold, solid, real. It was a poor weapon, but it was all they had.

Stay behind me, he instructed, positioning himself between his family and the encroaching threat. Whatever happens, don't let go of her.

The growling crescendoed into a chorus of canine rage, bouncing off the walls and converging on their position. John's heart pounded against his ribcage, adrenaline coursing through his veins like fire.

John... Sarah's voice was laced with fear, but she stood firm, clutching Emily with a protectiveness that was fierce and unyielding.

Ready, he breathed out, trying to still his racing thoughts. He had to be a shield, a barrier, an unstoppable force. They depended on him; their very lives hung in the balance of his resolve.

And then they were upon them—the pack materialized from the darkness like phantoms given flesh. Their eyes glowed with a feral hunger, their bared teeth a testament to their intent. With a collective snarl that tore through the stillness, they lunged.

Back! John shouted, swinging the rod with desperate might. The metallic clang against concrete echoed