Shades of Darkness (Trials of Fear Book 2) Read online

  Movement to my left made me jerk my attention to the shrubbery in front of my neighbor’s lawn. Rory was beside a tree, surrounded by a cloak of black.

  “It’s really creepy when you sneak around like that,” I snapped, gripping hard to the anger his presence had caused instead of giving way to the needy, desperate guy that hovered too close to the surface whenever I was in Rory’s presence.

  “Can we talk?”

  “How did you know where I lived? What are you doing here?”

  He said nothing, but his posture lured me in and suckered me into feeling sympathy. He cowered in the shadows, and the rigidness in his muscles told me he was anything but comfortable. Rory was struggling, fighting a battle in his mind where the streetlights were concerned. And he’d gone out of his way to find me despite those issues.

  I sighed when he refused to answer. “Fine. Where do you want to go? It’s obvious here isn’t good for you.”

  He nicked his chin, indicating I should follow, and headed across my neighbor’s lawn to the one next to it, always lingering where the light wouldn’t reach. I tailed him, telling myself the entire time that I was a gullible idiot asking for trouble. After years of dealing with people, I thought I knew enough not to fall into their traps, yet I skittered after Rory like a lost puppy, desperate for any attention at all.

  Rory led me across multiple lawns before veering between houses and slipping into someone’s backyard. He said nothing as he hopped the fence at the back of their property and continued along behind a series of off-campus buildings before ducking down an alley that opened onto a dead-end road. From there, we took a bike path that cut onto another road before he turned abruptly onto a dark patch of open landscape that I knew was Angels Park. We’d left campus far behind and had wandered into a small neighborhood nearby which I was only vaguely familiar with.

  The play equipment was positioned at the far back corner, at least two-hundred feet off the road, nestled under a canopy of tall oaks. There were no streetlights that far in, and the park wasn’t lit up at night. The moon barely penetrated the dense new leaves overhead, and darkness reigned. After less than a few dozen feet, my pace slowed until Rory got so far ahead, he was nothing more than a silhouette.

  I stopped and peered back toward the street, deciding just how much I trusted Rory and if I was willing to follow him into a secluded park at night. When I turned back, he’d moved directly in my face, and I bit back a scream before it pierced the night.

  “Why’d you stop?” He asked the question so casually, I almost believed he wasn’t leading me to my death.

  He was close enough I caught a lingering hint of cigarette smoke, but stronger was the scent of Rory. It was an essence I didn’t even know I’d noted or memorized back at his apartment when we’d been making out on his couch. One I liked a little too much. I adjusted my glasses and squared my shoulders. “No reason. Keep going.”

  He studied me a moment, as though assessing my honesty. He pulled his sunglasses off and tucked them in a pocket of his cargo shorts before he kept going. Since he’d made no further comment, I assumed my fears were adequately buried, and he hadn’t noticed them.

  After a few more steps, his hand slipped into mine. It was warm, if not a little sweaty. I was thankful for its comfort for more than one reason. Holding someone’s hand helped me feel less blind, and also, I could only assume a person set to murder you in cold blood wouldn’t extend such a soothing offer.

  So, I clung, sticking to Rory’s side, because as much as he found comfort in his dark world, I didn’t. The unknown loomed just out of reach, threatening all sorts of violent and terrifying possibilities. When the scant bit of moonlight that managed to penetrate through the trees showed the outline of a swing set, Rory slowed his pace.

  At the edge of the steel-framed play equipment, he released my hand and went to a swing to sit. There were four lined up, three regular swings and one meant for young children with a crossbar and a strip of leather that fit between their legs, so they wouldn’t fall off.

  I sat on the swing beside him and watched as he rocked himself in a semi-circle and stared at the ground.

  “I asked around. That’s how I knew where you lived. You’re not easy to pin down. Not many people knew of you.”

  “I don’t have many friends.”

  He went quiet as he pivoted one way then the other. I didn’t know what to say or why he’d brought me there, so I waited awkwardly for something to happen. The silence weighed more and more the longer it stretched, but Rory remained lost in his head. When he found his voice, it was solemn and came from a place far away only he could see.

  “Nolan Price. I met him in grade one. My family had moved for the third time that year into this tiny rundown shack on the outskirts of this little town called Wyatt. They bussed kids thirty minutes to the elementary school in the middle of nowhere.

  “We met on the playground. My mother had bought me this little pack of army men from the dollar store, and I was playing with them in the dirt under the swing set. Had them all lined up for a battle when Nolan wandered over. He sat beside me but didn’t say a word, so I kept playing. Every time I killed a soldier, I ensured they died really dramatically, and it made him giggle. I liked hearing him laugh, so I made sure to kill all the soldiers that day just to hear it.

  “When the bell rang, I collected all my little men into the cotton pouch with the drawstring where I kept them, and we both raced to the doors to line up and go inside. Before we separated, he spoke for the first time. He said, ‘I like your hair. Orange is my favorite color.’ After that, he came and watched me play soldiers at every recess. One day, I gave him half my men so he could play too. We were six. Not a single school day passed that we didn’t see each other or play together at recess. He was my best friend.

  “At the end of the school year, my family moved again. We were always moving; never settled in one place very long. We were poor, and when my parents couldn’t make rent, we got evicted. Then it was off to another town and another rat-infested apartment or decrepit house that didn’t meet code but was cheap to rent. I never saw Nolan again.”

  Rory paused, and his hypnotic rocking on the swing stopped. I couldn’t make out enough of his facial features to get a read on him, but I knew from his tone and the sigh that passed through his lips that he hurt.

  “It was twenty years before I ever found that kind of friendship again, but even with Krew, I hold back. I don’t think anything will ever be as pure and innocent as it was with Nolan. The kids I’ve met throughout my life broke me and stole that innocence. It makes it hard to trust.”

  Didn’t I know it. Except, I didn’t have a Krew and never had there been a Nolan in my life. Rory didn’t seem finished, so I stayed quiet.

  “Being the new kid all the time, probably didn’t help. Being poor and wearing dirty or torn clothing to school made me stand out even more. But being the scrawny, redheaded, pale-skinned gay boy was the icing on the cake.”

  My gaze shot up from where I’d been watching him draw circles with his shoe in the dirt underfoot. “When did you come out?”

  He chuckled. It was a sad sound that pulled at my heart. “I don’t think I was ever in. I knew I liked boys before I was even old enough to understand it wasn’t the socially acceptable norm.” He spat the words like they tasted bitter on his tongue. “I told Nolan once that I wanted to marry him. He hugged me tight and told me ‘Okay, when we get bigger’ like it was the most natural course of action. Maybe I was only six, but I never looked at girls and thought them to be half as beautiful as Nolan.

  “My home life was a battle growing up. Every day was a fight to survive. My dad couldn’t hold a job for more than a month or two. The welfare check barely put food on the table after my mother paid for her smoking and drinking habits, but we managed. When shit began falling apart for me at school, it just added another layer of bullshit to their plates they didn’t need.”

  Rory’s methodical twisting in plac
e changed when he shoved at the ground with his feet and set the swing in motion. One hard push and then he lifted his legs and let the momentum carry him until the swing slowly stopped.

  He sighed and dug in his pocket. Withdrawing a packet of cigarettes, he then tapped them on his knee before waving them at me. “Do you mind?”

  I didn’t have my inhaler, but we were in the open air, and the gentle breeze would take the smoke away from me.

  “Go ahead.”

  He plucked one from the pack along with his lighter and lit up. He was quiet again while he smoked, his gaze focused in the distance. Was he peering into the shadows or seeing something far darker inside his mind?

  “I went home most days with more holes in my clothes than when I left the house, bruises, and plenty of skinned palms and knees. In grade three, a kid named Brady Hatchett decided my red hair was stupid, so he hacked off a huge chunk at the back when I was busy doing my school work. Everyone laughed, and since my mom couldn’t afford to send me to a hairdresser to fix it, I lived with it for a solid week before she thought to just buzz it all off.

  “The same year, three kids in the playground pinned me to a pole in the schoolyard and used permanent marker all over my face, announcing my love for dick to the whole school. That was my last day there because we moved after that. My parents made excuses, but I knew it was because of me. Didn’t matter, my problems followed me.”

  He drew deep on his smoke, and the red tip glowed brightly against the black background. All the things he said gutted me. It was like hearing the story of my life coming from someone else’s lips. The characters were different, but the plot was eerily similar only slightly varied. I didn’t grow up in poverty but having money didn’t give me immunity to the cruel world of bullies. Unlike Rory’s parents, mine just assumed it was something I could brush off or fix, and when it didn’t go away, it was because I wasn’t trying hard enough.

  “No matter where we ended up,” he continued, “I tried to fit in better. I longed for another friend like Nolan. Someone who didn’t care that I was skinny. Someone who thought my red hair was cool and who went along with my wild games or goofy ideas of getting married when we grew up.

  “Every trip to the Goodwill with my mom, I’d search for the name brand clothes, because, maybe if I dressed better, they wouldn’t tease me so much. I stole my mom’s cigarettes when I was in the fifth grade, because cool kids smoked, right?”

  He held up the half-finished proof with what I knew was a grin, even though it didn’t translate as well from where I sat.

  “Well, it was cool for about a day and a half. Then, they discovered they could gang up on me, beat me up, and take what they wanted.

  “In high school, things escalated. We were living out west in British Columbia, and my dad found a decent job at one of the hydroelectric stations. Not as an operator, but a janitor. It paid a lot better than all the shit jobs he’d had in the past. So, when things turned ugly for me, for the first time in my life, they refused to leave. I started getting into a lot of trouble at school. Acted out, skipped class, took drugs, fought back. Nothing I did made a difference. I was and would always be the sludge on the bottom of everyone’s shoe. Nothing more than a joke, a punching bag, the odd man out. The more I tried to fit in, the more I didn’t.

  “In my senior year, for no discernable reason, I was beaten to a pulp and had a gun pulled on me. It was while I had my face pressed to the asphalt and the barrel of that gun crushed to my temple that I knew if I didn’t leave town, I was going to die there.”

  “And your parents didn’t do anything?” My voice cut strangely into the night. I hadn’t spoken for so long, I thought Rory might have even forgotten I was there, listening as he disclosed his life story.

  “I stopped telling them what was happening. I feared if they knew how bad it was getting, they’d feel like they didn’t have a choice but to leave. My dad was doing well for once in his life, and my mom had quit drinking. She got a job at a small diner, too. I didn’t want to be the cause for them to slip back into the poverty-stricken world where I’d grown up. We weren’t rich, but we weren’t starving to death anymore. So, I bit the bullet and went and talked to a school counselor. I didn’t tell him about the bullying either, I just told him I needed out. He helped me apply for student loans and fill out applications to a few out of province colleges. Even though I’d neglected school a lot, my grades weren’t awful. I’m smarter than you think, Adrian.”

  “I never called you stupid.”

  He dismissed my comment with a shrug. “In order to finish high school faster, I had to rearrange my final semester. It was the longest five months ever, but I got through it. Barely. I got accepted into three different colleges and chose the one farthest from home. I was eighteen, determined to fly under the radar and get a degree. Make it on my own. No more bullshit. No more poverty. No more bullies. Just, no more. I wanted a normal fucking life for a change.”

  Rory rose from his swing and paced a few feet away. He lit another smoke and studied the ground as though it was a window into his past. The onyx sky had turned indigo in the east. The slight variation in color helped outline Rory’s features, so he was less hidden in the dark.

  He lifted his chin, blew a wisp of smoke into the air, and paused. His entire body went rigid as a statue. Over the course of the night, Rory and I had shared an unseen connection, a bond that grew with the telling of his life’s story, so it didn’t surprise me when I felt the anxiety pour off his body as though it was a physical entity.

  His cigarette fell from his hand. He didn’t throw it away or drop it on purpose, it fell. It took all of thirty seconds for me to realize what was happening, but it was enough time for his panic to set in.

  “What the fuck time is it?” He whipped his head around as he asked, surveying the night sky and stumbling backward as he retreated.

  He didn’t wait for an answer and ripped his phone from his pocket. I’d have guessed it was probably around four-thirty in the morning.

  His eyes widened as he checked the screen, then I caught his arm when he tried to flee.

  “Rory, stop.”

  He yanked his arm free and shoved me back. “I have to go.”

  In all the times I’d been with Rory, he was always in control. Apart from the day I’d fled to the elevator, he was a rock of confidence. That moment in his hallway was nothing compared to the man in front of me then.

  “The sun won’t break the horizon for at least another hour. You have time.”

  “I don’t. Shit.”

  “Rory, listen.” I grabbed his face between two hands and forced his wild eyes to focus on my face. “You have plenty of time to get home.”

  He didn’t believe me. The look on his face gave me a glimpse into that darkness he carried inside. His tortured soul shone clear. It was brief, but before he closed it off, he leaned his forehead to mine. “I’m trying,” he whispered.

  “I know. Thank you.”

  Then he was gone. He ran. I didn’t make chase or try to stop him. His fear was beyond anything I’d imagined. I knew he couldn’t handle light. I knew his phobia was intense based on the bits and pieces he’d shared, but I had no sense of just how terror-stricken he became in the face of his worst enemy until he opened that window into his soul. What he allowed me to see was far more intense than I’d ever imagined.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Adrian

  I didn’t hear from Rory for two weeks after that night in the park. I wanted to call him but struggled knowing where my boundaries were. I only had his phone number because he’d been a client, not because he’d willfully given it to me. Also, why had he told me all the things he did? Was it shared because I’d once played the role of a counselor or was he reaching out, seeking friendship or companionship? How long had he carried it all inside? Did Krew know the half of it?

  With no answers, I did the only thing that helped me wind down at night: research. No matter how Rory saw me, I wanted to hel
p. I couldn’t sit back and do nothing. Work distracted my mind and provided me with an outlet for practicing my counseling skills. It was clear from day one that I excelled at classroom work, but the practice was a lot more challenging. I’d never been great at social situations. It left me constantly concerned about my future and where it might lead if I didn’t sort myself out.

  Unlike my father, I wasn’t ashamed to admit when I didn’t know something or needed guidance. It was part of learning. So, when I’d exhausted every podcast, journal, and textbook known to mankind on the subject of phobias, I made a call to Dr. Kelby and set up an appointment for us to chat.

  Our meeting was scheduled for Friday at four. She asked me to head over to her in-hospital office at Dewhurst County General. Dr. Kelby was a young woman in her mid to late thirties with strawberry blonde hair that she wore loose. It waved over her shoulders and caught the light shining in through the window which brought out the copper undertones even more.

  She stood when I entered and offered her hand to shake. “Adrian Anderson, I assume.”

  “Dr. Kelby.”

  “Please, call me Erin. Have a seat.”

  I let my shoulder bag drop to the floor and sat on the edge of the offered chair. “Thank you for meeting with me. I hope I’m not taking you away from your work.”

  “Not at all. The minute anyone shows an interest in my studies and wants to meet and talk about it, my schedule suddenly becomes wide open.” Her smile was kind and alight with the pride and passion she felt for her job.

  “Do you mind if I take notes?” I asked, fishing a pad of paper from my bag.

  “Not at all. Just tell me where you’d like to begin.”

  I spent a minute explaining where I was with my schooling and the fact that I was working as a counselor at the government center. In respect for Rory’s privacy, I kept my inquiries on the vague side leaving out names and too many identifying details.