Fated by Darkness
Jessica Sorensen
Fated by Darkness
(Unraveling You, #5)
Jessica Sorensen
Fated by Darkness
Jessica Sorensen
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2017 by Jessica Sorensen
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
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For information: jessicasorensen.com
Cover Design by Najla Qamber Designs
Created with Vellum
Contents
Prologue
1. Sage
2. Sadie
3. Sadie
4. Sage
5. Sadie
6. Sadie
7. Sadie
8. Sage
9. Sadie
10. Sage
11. Sadie
12. Sage
13. Sadie
About the Author
Also by Jessica Sorensen
Prologue
Sadie
I’m going to die today. I can sense it in the air. Weakened, beaten, bleeding, I wait for death to take me permanently this time. I’ve died before, but I’ve always come back. I used to be relieved when life returned to my body. Not anymore. Now I welcome death. Once death arrives, the pain, the desolation, the sheer helplessness, and the torture will all be over. I just hope it stays this time.
Come and get me. I’m ready. Please, please, please.
Water rivers over my feet, the coldness seeping into my skin, begging me to give in.
Yes, yes, come take me away.
Let me sink into the water.
Falling, falling weightlessly.
I won’t bother coming up for air.
Because sometimes, it’s harder to breathe,
Than it is to be submersed in water.
“Sadie, open your eyes. You need to go. Now.”
The voice sounds far away, nearly untouchable, yet rings with familiarity. It’s a guy’s voice, I think. A guy I think I might know.
“Come on, Sadie. It’s time to get up,” the voice pleads. “You can get out now, but only if you open your eyes and run. They’re gone now. You can get away. But you have to get up.”
Summoning the last of my energy, I lift my heavy eyelids and raise my head. Squinting against the darkness I’ve grown used to in the two years I have been trapped here, I take in the four brick walls, rotting with murky water, and the cracked and caved-in concrete floor now flooded with lake water.
“What’s happening?” I whisper as water gushes through the gaps in the floor, slowly filling up the room I’m trapped in.
“What’s happening is that you’re going to die.” A girl steps out from the shadows like a ghost, her skin as pale as the moonlight peeking through the thin cracks in the roof.
I startle at the sight of her, mostly because the voice sounded like it belonged to a guy.
Recognition clicks. I know this girl. I watched her die. How is she here? Am I so close to death that I’m seeing the dead?
“Unless you get up now.”
“I can’t go anywhere. I’m trapped.” I reach forward, and surprisingly, my arm moves freely. Then I glance behind me, seeing the chains that were once fastened to my wrists now dangle from the wall. “I’m free,” I breathe out as the water soaks the rags of clothing I’m wearing. “Oh, my God, this can’t be happening … I’m dreaming. I have to be dreaming.”
“You’re not dreaming.” She steps toward me, wading through the water that now reaches her knees. “But you’re not free yet, either. You need to get up and run before you drown.”
I look down at the swishing water that’s rising higher and higher. For the briefest instant, I contemplate staying where I am, letting the water swallow me, ending the pain.
Drown, drown, drown me,
Swallowing me where I lay.
I have no fight left.
It seems easier to stay.
What happens if I go?
What happens if I fight?
Where will I go?
To a life I don’t know.
A life full of struggle.
A life crushed with pain.
Broken cracks in the ground.
Fragile glass,
Waiting to split open,
And drag me back down.
Free?
Is there such a thing?
Is it worth it?
To fight?
“Think about your brother, Sadie.” The girl stops in front of me with her hand outstretched. “Are you just going to let him suffer, too, because you don’t want to fight? Are you just going to give up? Let them win? Please, don’t let them win. Please, get out and fight. Make them suffer. For you, for your brothers, your mother, me, and everyone else they’ve hurt.”
The icy water seeps into my skin and bones, drenching my clothes and making my body heavier. As the water rises up to my neck, my limbs, my heart, my mind all want me to give up. Just put me out of my misery. But my soul pleads with me not to give up yet.
As the water reaches my lips, I suck in a breath, push up, and grab the dead girl’s hand. My fingers slip through hers as I stumble to my feet. My malnourished body can hardly support itself, and I almost fall right back down.
“Be strong,” the girl says. Then she turns and wades through the water, moving toward the collapsing doorway. “Follow me.”
I take a deep breath and step forward. My legs wobble, and the weight of the water nearly sends me back to the ground. However, I do what the girl said and dig out every ounce of strength I have, trailing behind her and out the door.
The water rises higher and higher as we make our way through the collapsing house. The air reeks of rotting bones and flesh, but I’m used to the stench. The floor cuts into my bony, bare feet, and the freezing water sends my muscles into a fit. I shiver uncontrollably, my body shutting down.
“Don’t give up,” she begs, guiding me toward a thick door. “We’re almost there.”
Don’t give up.
Don’t give up.
Don’t give up.
“Open your eyes, Sadie,” she says. “You’re free.”
I peer back over my shoulder at the place that’s been my prison for years. I swear I see a guy standing in the shadows, but when I blink, he’s vanished.
My eyelashes flutter as light suddenly blinds me. Everywhere. Flashing. Stinging my eyes.
“I’m free …” My knees buckle out from under me.
“Almost,” she whispers in my ear. “But first, you need to free me.”
“H-how d-do I do that?” I ask through my chattering teeth. “Y-you’re dead.”
The only answer I get is the screeching of sirens.
1
Sage
Every night, when I fall asleep, I’m haunted by the same dream of being locked in a closet. Tonight, after I climb into bed, with the smell of sex, weed, sweat, and booze drenched all over—the smell of the piece of shit I’ve become—I dream the same dream I always do.
I’ve been locked in the closet for what feels like hours after my mom shoved me in there.
“It’s the only way you’ll be safe from him,” she whispered wi
th her finger to her lips as she shoved me inside. “Whatever you do, stay quiet, okay? Don’t utter a word. And stay here no matter what.”
I nodded and hugged my knees to my chest as she shut the door and darkness encased me. I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Well, at first I didn’t. But after time drifted by and kept drifting … And drifting … And drifting …
I can barely hold still anymore. I feel restless from being in the darkness for so long. And the house is so quiet. Too quiet. It doesn’t make sense. Why would my mom shove me inside a closet then just take off and leave me?
Finally, I can’t take the darkness anymore and reach for the doorknob, even though I told my mom I wouldn’t leave the closet. But the sound of angry voices makes me pause.
“Where is he?” my father shouts.
“I-I’m not sure,” my mom stammers. “I think he might’ve snuck off.”
“Bullshit!” Smack. “I know when you’re lying.”
“Please!” my mom begs.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
“I don’t know where he is! I swear!”
Smack.
Smack.
Smack.
The sound is a rhythm in my head. A terrible rhythm that makes my stomach twist and vomit burn at the back of my throat.
I cover my mouth with my hand, fighting the vomit back, as tears sting my eyes.
This isn’t the first time I’ve heard that smacking noise, and I’m pretty sure I know what it is. My dad is hitting my mom. He’s done it before, and he’ll do it again, no matter how much my mom tells me he won’t. He always does it again, and I wish she’d realize this. Maybe then, she’d finally leave him and take me with her.
As the smacking noises begin to dwindle, silence takes over the house again. I hate the quiet almost more than I hate the smacking noises. At least then I know what’s going on. But the quiet leaves me wondering … fearing.
“Sage!” my father shouts. “You need to come out now! Your mom’s hurt!”
Tears slip from my eyes as I remain frozen, remembering how my mom warned me to stay in the closet.
“Sage!” my father warns. “If you don’t come out, I’m going to have to get her.”
I tense. No … He wouldn’t …
“You think I won’t?” he taunts, his icy tone sending a chill down my spine. “But I will. I’ll find her and make her take every single one of your punishments.”
My heart slams in my chest as I stand up, twist the doorknob, and open the door. My father is standing right outside with a smirk on his face, leaving me to wonder if he knew where I was the entire time and just wanted to mess with my mind. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“Brave boy,” he says as I step out of the closet. Then he grabs ahold of my arm and drags me with him as he strides down the hallway. “Unfortunately, bravery is only for the stupid.” He digs his fingers into my skin as he hauls me past the living room.
We’re moving so fast that I barely get a glimpse inside the room. But even just a peek lets me see enough. See the blood. See the body.
“Is that Mom?” I choke out as he stops in front of the basement door.
His grip on my wrist constricts so tightly I’m almost certain I’m going to have bruises. “Is who your mom?”
My heart races with fear as I stare up at his angry eyes. “The person lying on the living room floor … in a pool of blood; is that Mom?”
Momentary confusion creases across his forehead, but then his eyes light up. “Interesting.”
I don’t know what’s interesting about me seeing a body in the living room, but I’m not about to ask. If I do, I’ll get punished, probably even more than I’m already going to.
With a pleased gleam in his eyes, my father yanks open the basement door. Cold air blasts against my skin, and I instinctively step back, but my father only tightens his hold on me and shoves me forward.
“We go through this every time, Sage,” he says. “And every time has the same end result.”
I know, but it doesn’t mean I want to stop fighting. I can’t. Not when I know what’s about to happen.
“Please don’t make me do this,” I plead with tears streaming down my cheeks.
He stares me down coldly. “Would you rather me have her do it?”
I swiftly shake my head. “No, she’s too weak.”
“Okay, then.” He tugs me with him as he stomps down the concrete stairs, heading into the dark and pulling me with him.
Pulling me to my prison.
Pulling me into the dark.
Tears sting my eyes. I’m never going to get out of here.
Right on cue, my eyelids snap open and I suck in a huge breath of air. After gasping for at least a minute straight, I manage to calm myself the fuck down. Then I stare up at the ceiling of the hotel room, waiting for my heart to settle down. But, like always, my heart has the hardest time letting go of the nightmare … or the memory. I’m not really sure what it is anymore. Maybe I would if I could see more of it, see the end. But the nightmare always ends in the same place, with me going into the basement.
It feels like a memory—raw, real, brutal. But I don’t know who the person is that my father keeps referring to—the her. Maybe my mother? Who really knows? What’s even more strange is that we didn’t even have a basement in the house I grew up in. So, in reality, I think it has to be a dream. A fucked up, messed up dream that’s going to haunt me forever.
After lying in bed for at least an hour, I decide to drag my ass out of bed, pull on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and head down to the coffee shop on the corner to grab some coffee. Even though it’s early, I end up standing in a very long line.
As I’m waiting to place my order, I mess around on my phone, mostly to distract myself from the restlessness stirring inside me. Usually when I’m feeling this worked up, I play the drums until I’m so exhausted I can barely think. Right now, though, my band is in the process of finding a new place to practice.
We used to practice in my mom’s garage, but since my dad is putting her house up for sale, we are no longer allowed to play there. That’s okay. We’re doing well enough—booking tours and selling albums—that we can afford to rent our own place. Still, the fact that my dad’s selling my mom’s house, a house he doesn’t even technically own, pisses me off.
She’s not even gone yet, and he’s trying to get rid of her, just like he did when she was alive.
Shaking my head, I tuck my phone into my back pocket and step forward with the line, distracted by some newspapers on a shelf near the register. Well, not so much the newspaper itself, but the front headline.
New details from the Soulless Mileas Cult case emerge. More victims are stepping forward to testify.
Suddenly, my nightmare seems completely stupid. Here I am, freaking out about some messed up dream, when Ayden, my bandmate and friend, and Sadie, his sister, have bigger problems to deal with. And by bigger problems, I mean testifying against a cult that did God knows what to them. I don’t know all the details since they never talk about it. The only reason I found out anything is because of the newspapers plastering the story all over the place.
As I reach the register, I pick up a newspaper and skim through the article, my heart sinking.
Sadie is supposed to testify against them today. Sweet, innocent, afraid of everything Sadie. God, I wish I could help her. Every time I see her big eyes that are so full of pain, that’s all I can think about—helping her, taking her pain away. But guys like me never help. We only destroy, break things, watch people suffer. Don’t believe me? Just ask my mom. Because, right now, she’s suffering more than anyone, and I haven’t done anything to save her.
My chest constricts at the reminder. Setting the newspaper down, I order my coffee then head outside, fully planning on going back to my hotel and smoking bowl after bowl until I enter a state of stupid where I can’t think about anything. But somehow, I find myself turning right instead of left, heading in the direction of the courthouse.
2
Sadie
The girl with long, brown hair, standing in the middle of the courtroom, is dead. I saw her die two years ago. I watched her bleed to death and take her final breath. I haven’t seen her since she helped me escape that house, and honestly, I kind of thought I had hallucinated her. That maybe her appearance that night was my soul’s way of begging me not to give up. That even though I was scared, a new, better life was waiting for me outside that house. Now, she’s here again, watching me with her sunken eyes.
Completely coherent, it’s hard to deny she might be real.
Maybe she’s not dead? Maybe I’m not the only one who can see her?
My palms dampen with sweat as I frantically glance around the room. No one appears alarmed, and they’d definitely be terrified if they could see her. With her blood-stained hair, ghostly pale skin, frail body, and a thinned face covered in scratches, her appearance is startling.
“You’re the only one who can see me,” she says, as if reading my mind. “But I think, deep down, you know that already. Just like you know why I’m really here.”
Seriously, Sadie? On top of seeing a ghost, you now think you’re seeing a ghost that can read your mind?
Oh, my God, after two years of putting myself back together, I’ve finally lost my damn mind!
“You’re not losing your mind,” she promises. “You just haven’t completely freed your conscience yet.”
Yes, I have! Yes, I have! Yes, I have! Look at what I’m doing right now. This has to make up for all the bad things I’ve done.
“You think testifying against your father and the cult will erase what happened to me?” The girl laughs while I struggle to get through the questions the lawyer is throwing at me. “You think this is your penance for what you did?”
