Dream Walker by Tobin Brice

There are many of us that take the gift of sleep for granted. I should know, as I was one of these people.
When we sleep, our minds take us on mysterious journeys that are of its own and unique design. We may dream of greatness, as we walk down the runways in Europe as the most beautiful and soght-after supermodel in the world as cameras flash and agents fight each other to get your name upon the dotted line. We may see ourselves as monarchs, actors, or sometimes perhaps even deities that rule over planes of existence of our own design and make miracles that are seen by those that we deem as common.
We might also see darker realms. Realms that are beyond our comprehension as we fall, walk, run, or scream as the hidden terrors and horrors that lay within our subconscious mind come into the light and make themselves known. They may be gigantic monsters or demons that howl in the night in darkened forests as they chase us down, reminding us of our greatest sins or our darkest desires. They might be ghosts, or perhaps even long dead memories that lay just below the surface that scream to get out as they claw against our brain until they finally make their way out into the light.
I know about these monsters, as these monsters have now become friends as their memories will never die for me. As each day passes, they become even more and more clearer for me, showing themslevs to me in the most undying and relentless ways. They talk with me and tell me of the things that I had done and the acts that I vowed I would never repeat again lest the damage to my own mortal soul be too great to bear. But, monsters are people too, and they always seem to know and attract their own kind. I should know this also, as I feel that I am one of those monsters.
But, what if those monsters were not the same as what you and I see, but rather are a mere memory of a time when we were at our lowest, and during those low times we spend the rest of our lives filled with anguish and regret at the events that had transpired. If it were possible, could that darkness be cultivated into something more tangible...something more...real. I had wondered that every day of my life since my years of youth in the small town of Hollow Point, where my demons had come to me and made me into a thing that I wanted to loathe and abhor since the days that I was born. I remember the haunted house and the day that Jack Fullerton and I had played the greatest prank in the world and lived in the eyes of other local neighborhood children as gods as we had stood against the very monster that had tormented us not in our dreams, but in the waking world. He would never bother us ever again to take our lunch money or give us what he called 'The Atomic Wedgie' as we walked down the school halls in silence trying not to make fools of ourselves as we worked it out of that small slit that our underwear had now made its home. He would never beat us up as we walked home from school along the old Center Bridge, which we had already known to be filled with monsters that we could not see or touch, let alone this one large one that sought our demise on a daily basis. We knew the monsters well, and the monsters had known us well, and this made our task at hand seem that much more important then.
But, our godhood would not last long as we heard the blare of sirens and the screams of our monster's mother as she stooped over the body of her offspring, crying to the night her anger as he looked into his lifeless face as it grew cold against the heat of the summer's winds. The monster would no longer bother us again, and now we would be allowed to walk the streets of town without worry or care as we licked our soft-serve ice creams and snuck into the scary movies at the Pavilion Theater just three blocks from home. We would be able to live and breathe in relative peace, with only the winds at the back of our bikes and our cries of freedom swelling up on the air.
Or...would we?
I had never known that it would have come down as it had. I never knew of the losses that I would incur over my past misdeeds, and now I was finding that my sins would come back to visit me time and again as I turned into a man, and I never knew just how powerful this testament could be until it was too late. Every night when I closed my eyes, I would see him as I always had. I would still cringe in the shadows as I always did, where I could remember and feel every blow that he placed on me and my battered body, chanting the same verse that he always did:

'Baby boy, baby boy, mother's little pride and joy
Can do no wrong, and always right, in the eyes of God and her sight
But baby boy has now been bad; baby boy is no longer a lad
Baby boy has blood on his hands, as he flees about the lands
Call the doctor, call the nurse, and call the driver and his hearse
Put baby boy six feet in the ground, with his family watching all around
As tears are shed over baby boy, mother's little pride and joy
But baby boy is really still alive, when he should have really died
And baby monster now lies instead, with his hands below his head
Momma monster now is gonna cry, as the baby monster has now died
Now, baby boy is on the run, get a rifle or get a gun
Because baby boy now is gonna cry, because baby boy told a lie!'

That same verse rang in my mind shortly after his death, and it has not left me since. Not even now as I sit on a park bench in the middle of the playground at Shaker School where I received my elementary school education. I can still hear the sounds of children and the sounds of the ghosts that had been my friends at that time. I still see little Suzie hanging off the monkey bars as she attempted to break the world climbing record in the hopes of making the Guinness Book. There was also Road Hog, the local boy whose family belonged to the local motorcycle gang in town as they ruled the streets by night and were postal workers during the day. Lastly, we have Sonny, the small yet frail boy who had no friends except for our group, who had always come to school with a new bruise after his father had beat him several times with a switch from being a minute late for dinner.
This had been our group. A group of nobodies that no one but our teachers seemed to pay attention to let alone take notice of. On that fateful night in the heat of late August, they had taken notice, and we knew that our lives were going to change forever because of it.
My life had changed even more since then, as I always saw him peeking around a corner or somewhere lurking in the shadows. I had known that he was not going to let me forget, and he was going to follow me for the rest of my natural life until I came clean about what we had done. But, being the young man I was, how little was I know that what I had done would follow me into adulthood and keep me from the blissful slumber that was escaping my reach, and still did to this day.
Now, you might ask me why this matters so much. It was in childhood and we all make mistakes when we are kids is it not true? It's just a matter of learning from it and moving on with our lives.
If it were only just that simple.
I had thought this for many years, and I thought that one day he would just go away and never bother me again. At least, this was what I had hoped.
But, as the years transgressed, I knew that this was not to be true, and never would be true just as long as I lived. He would not let me go. Not until I had confessed to everything that I had one. It is because of this that I have ended up as I have, without life, without love, and without anything to call my own. He was going to leave me as dead as I had left him, just in a different way. He still haunts me at times to this very day.
But, before I become to engaged in rhetoric, I think it best to tell you the whole story, lest you make the same mistake as I have done. The one thing that must be remembered is even though you may commit a grave act and forget....the dead do not. This I cannot stress enough.
It started six months ago in Seattle, where I was a prominent architect to a large firm...and I was already dealing with another demon of my own. One that would never let me forget and whom I wanted to forgive me. Her name was Chandelle.

Chapter 1

I was barely out of my teens when I had first married Chandelle. We had met while I was still in college, and had vowed to wed that very week just as soon as we both had graduated.
Our wedding had been simple, with family and friends. I had decided that I wanted her to see the small town that I had come from, and we flew out immediately and wed that very same week in front of the Old Tree that was one of the big tourist attractions in town besides our amusement park, which lay just a few miles beyond. It had been a wonderful time, where there was laughter and song for hours as my father danced with my new bride and my mother had wept tears of joy that her son had now found the one true love in his life. But, how little did I know how long that happiness would last was a big question, as soon I was found alone again in our modest apartment with only her picture and her memories to keep me company on the long and dragging nights when the sun went down early in the winter months.
Chandelle had disappeared nearly six months after, along with our newborn son, Gary. I had been frantic, calling the police and local sheriff's departments to investigate, only for them to come up empty-handed as they had found her car but no signs of foul play or any signs of a struggle. There was no blood, no hairs, and no sign of anything that could have suggested that she may have met up with the criminal element.
They also found Gary's baby blanket, and it too, had been untouched and was almost like new. I didn't want to believe what they were telling me. I was sure that they had met into trouble of some kind, and they may have simply been kidnapped and I had to just wait for the ransom note to be called or mailed in. But, they had simply surmised it as being that she left me, and has left the car and hitched a ride with a passing truck driver or that her lover may have just been picking her up there as a meeting place in order to arrange the getaway. This was something that I could not accept, let alone would not, as I knew that my wife and I were so much in love. Why would she have left me without at least giving me some kind of an explanation?
After a month, the police has resigned to placing my file in the 'cold case' folder, and left me to resort to other means in finding out the reasons why my family had gone. I called the FBI, who quickly rebuffed my efforts and story and said that they 'did not handle local crimes'. I had hired numerous private investigators to check, only to have them come up dry at every turn as well. Soon, I was in debt up to my heels, and I had to foreclose on the apartment and find another home in the suburbs where I am currently living now.
Needless to say, I don't need to explain how my life has been since then. My work had suffered, and I was finding that it was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate and make deadlines for prospective accounts and clients. I was looking worn down and older than I appeared at my now age of 34. I was haggard, and the bags under my eyes were becoming more and more prevalent as each day passed. I wasn't sleeping, and I very rarely ate. I poured myself over building schematics and was drowning myself in my work as much as possible. If I wasn't working, I was up all night watching the television just to keep my mind active. I lived off of aspirin and anti-inflammatory drugs, as I had been fighting headaches due to lack of sleep. All in all, what I was turning into was a monster in my own respect, as I found myself snapping at friends and co-workers on the job , as well as my own personal secretary, Sandy, who has now ceased to speak with me or had at least limited it to shop talk when I come into the office.
It was on this very morning that my journey had began, and it was on this day that everything that I was and had been had truly changed.
It was a mid-winter's morning, just after Thanksgiving, when I had decided that it was time for me to make a change in what I was doing and attempt to make amends with those that I knew at the office. I had risen that morning and shaved, cut my hair, and trimmed my moustache as it had grown into a long handlebar over the months as I had not been maintaining its soft thinness as I had before. I dressed in my usual attire of light blue business shirt, red tie, grey slacks, and a pair of freshly shined loafers. I had muddled through my work desk at home to find a current project that the company had just placed bids on for a new shopping center in the city. It had been neglected for many weeks now, and I knew that if I was not careful, my boss, Larry Chang, would be making sure that my office was packed and cleaned out before the day was up.
Right now, this was something that I could not afford. I had to move on with my life, and I wasn't going to be able to do that the longer that I procrastinated. I had to make a change to better myself, and this day was going to be as good as any.
I drove my new Ford truck down to the office, taking into account the ice that was on the roads that had been there since a few days ago. It had been a slow ride, but it had given me a chance to get up early and get that much-needed cup of coffee from the Starbuck's that was not too far away from my house.
As I drove, I was finding that my mind was calmer and more astute. I had my work processes going again, and I knew the exact finishing touches that I was going to need in order to make sure that I made Larry's deadline, which would be at the end of the week. If I played my cards right, I knew that I would soon be back in the good graces of my boss and be able to get myself out of this slump.
But, that would have been a lie, as what happened next sent me into a careening spiral that almost would have cost me my life had I not slammed on my brakes fast enough.
I had stopped at a light, and was merely sipping on my coffee when I saw a figure out in the distance, merely standing and watching me. I paid no mind to him, as I sipped on my coffee and waited for the light to change green. I looked at him passively, noticing that he had not moved from the spot. I figured it may have been a vagrant, and seeing as I had a few extra dollars in my pocket, I would give him a break so he could at least go somewhere and have a cup of coffee to warm up. It had been cold, and what the police didn't need at this time of year was to have to cart another body off to the morgue of a homeless person who didn't have the money, let alone the common sense, of getting out of the chilly and snowy morning air.
As the light changed, I slowly drove forward and slowed down to give the person their money. As I stopped, I rolled down my window and quickly reached into my pocket for a twenty-dollar bill. The figure did not pay me any heed after I had stopped, but simply just stood where he was and remained motionless. I thought that maybe he might have been scared, as a new stranger was approaching him with unknown intentions.
"Excuse me", I said politely, "Do you need a ride somewhere/"
The figure said nothing, but simply cocked his head to one side as if he had heard me, but wasn't exactly sure what to say.
"It's okay", I replied mildly, "I was just on my way to work and I saw you walking out here. It's not necessarily a good morning to be walking in this kind of weather. Why don't I drop you by a café I know so you can get some breakfast and a hot cup of coffee? What do you say?"
The figure still said nothing, and as I waited, I began to wonder if perhaps the person was deaf. Being that I am no expert in sign language, I decided that it was time to step from the truck and see if the person could read lips.
Stepping down, I wrapped my coat about me and began to make my way to where the figure stood. But, as I approached, the wind began to kick up and the snow bears down upon me harder. As I fought against the sudden gusts, I had finally reached where he stood...except that he was gone. It was as if with the sudden burst of snow that he merely melted into the background, as if he had never existed. I looked around for a few moments calling, only to hear the wind in response to my shouts as the only answer.
Shrugging, I decided to get back inside of my truck as the bitter chill was upon me now, and as it was, I going to be a few minutes late if I didn't hurry.
Jumping back into the truck's cab, I keyed the ignition, only to find that it wouldn't start. It was very cold, and it wouldn't have been surprising that the winter winds may have made my vehicle go suddenly cold from all of the snow and freezing temperatures.
'Great', I thought to myself, 'Just what I needed this morning.'
Jumping back down, I went to the front of the vehicle and popped the hood. It had been good that I had taken some auto shop classes in high school (at my father's instance, of course), so that would have at least told me a little of what may have been happening with the truck. Looking, what I saw before me made me go white, as the engine had been completely frozen over! Ice shingles hung from the carburetor and engine block in long spikes that looked to almost touch the road. Thinking that it was impossible, I looked further to see if maybe I had forgotten to put antifreeze in the engine the day before, only to find after my observation that the antifreeze was now a solid block of ice. Cursing, I was about to get back in my truck and use my phone to call for a tow when I saw that same figure again, but this time he was a little clearer than before, as the snow storm had suddenly dropped a little, going into a long but sustained flurry.
He looked to be a young teenager, standing about six-feet-two, with long lanky legs and arms. His hair was a tousled mess, and his eyes looked to be blank and lifeless. His face I could not see completely, but it looked a slightly bluish color, like he had just been in cold water and had dredged himself from a nearby river. His demeanor was casual, but he seemed totally transfixed upon me. He was standing in the middle of the road, his arms crossed on his chest, as if he were daring me to strike him with the vehicle.
Waiting, I had noticed that the truck itself was slightly colder than I had remembered from first getting in. I had the heater on full blast, but I still felt the after-effects of being chilled from being outside. I looked upon the lad, waiting and watching, thinking that he might have known me. Perhaps a kid who had recognized me from the neighborhood or maybe a child that my wife had instructed in her earlier years, as she had been an elementary school teacher by trade when she was alive.
Whatever the case was, the boy was making it known that he knew me in no uncertain terms.
It was then that I saw his hand jut forth, a finger that pointed straight at me as if accusing me of some act that I did not remember. Then, he pulled his hand down and it was then that I heard it, quiet yet loud all at the same time, as the verse came ringing true in my ears:

'Baby boy, baby boy, mother's little pride and joy
Can do no wrong, and always right, in the eyes of God and her sight
But baby boy has now been bad; baby boy is no longer a lad
Baby boy has blood on his hands, as he flees about the lands
Call the doctor, call the nurse, and call the driver and his hearse
Put baby boy six feet in the ground, with his family watching all around
As tears are shed over baby boy, mother's little pride and joy
But baby boy is now alive, when he should have really died
And baby monster now lies instead, with his hands below his head
Momma monster now is gonna cry, as the baby monster has now died
Now, baby boy is on the run, get a rifle get a gun
Because baby boy now is gonna cry, because baby boy has told a lie!'

In that precise moment, I felt my blood immediately run cold as the ice that was on the road. My stomach tightened, and my senses became acutely aware of what was now in front of me. But, was it possible? It had been nearly eighteen years since his death, and he was buried in Old Tree Cemetery back home. Could it have been another one of his evil tricks that he had played on me? Had he survived it?
It was then that I saw him walking towards me, his finger still outstretched and looking upon me in disdain. I grabbed the keys and attempted to start the ignition, only to forget that the engine was frozen solid. I cranked it, hearing the engine squeal in agony as gaskets blew and cylinders seized in the engine block. I knew that there would be no way out for me, and I had to accept the inevitable. I knew that this was going to be the end for me...at least, that was what I thought.
He stopped several feet from the front of the truck, and then began to spring into a new verse, this one more harrowing than the last. As it rang in my ears, I felt as if I would go mad from the very sound of it. It had a mocking almost evil tone to it, and he wanted to make sure that I heard every syllable as he went into annunciation of every word, loud and perfect:

'Baby boy, now a man, make his life miserable I can
Took his wife, took his child, look at him as his brain goes wild
Watch him as he weeps his tears, over a wife of several years
Look at the babe, and watch him scream, for his daddy, or is it, it seems
Now look at baby boy, all messed up
As the engine block is frozen, big friggin' whup!
He can no longer touch the monster boy, baby boy, mother's little pride and joy
As monster boy is now dead and putting little voices in his head
He's going crazy, what a treat, as he can no longer find his sleep
Up all night and all day, watching his world fade away
His job in shambles and his life is too, my, aren't we in quite a stew?
Baby boy, baby boy, mother's little pride and joy
Now baby boy has told a lie, and for all this, he and his family are going to die!'

My mind and body went completely numb once he had finished. I told myself over and over that it was not real...that it could not have been real. It was all a figment of my imagination due to guilt over the prank. My friends and I hadn't talked about it in years, and had talked even less since then. Suzie had moved to Canada and was working for the Mounted Police, while Roadie had ended up in prison after taking control of his parents' gang due to some, let us say, illicit activities. As for Sonny, no one knew whatever happened to him. All of a sudden, just after he had graduated from high school, he skipped town and was never heard from again. The last rumor that I heard from his mother was that he was somewhere in Chicago working for an online gambling company. These, you had to remember although, were just rumors.
But now, I was looking at the monster that had haunted me for many years as a child standing right in front of me, as if he had never truly died. He still was the same boy that I recalled that threw rocks at me coming home from school and throwing me against lockers for my lunch money. The same boy who had locked me in the school gym with the lights out and had to be rescued by one of the teachers after she heard him screaming and crying for help. The same boy who made someone die because of a stupid stunt and had now come back for me, just as I knew that he always would.
I stepped out of the truck, my hands in front of me in surrender. I walked as men did on Death Row when he was walking his last mile, knowing that his end was going to be coming quickly, and the electric chair was going to be a welcome invitation rather than having to live with the crime for all eternity. This was my time now, and I went into it willingly as I no longer wanted to live with what I had done.
As I walked closer, I found that the snow had picked up again, this time almost as a blizzard. I shielded my eyes to keep sight of him, but was quickly losing focus as the wind beat hard against my body, making the snow feel like ice shards against my skin, penetrating like bullets and trying to make me bleed. If he had control of the elements, I knew that I was finished, and I would have deserved it.
I approached closer, holding my hands in front of my body, when the snow died down again and I was alone on the street. A car had barely missed me, with its driver honking their horn and shouting curse words at me as they went, such as 'Idiot! Get on the sidewalk' and some other such nonsense. When I looked around more, I noticed that the street was barren still, except for the few snowed-in cars that lay against residences whose lights were still out the morning was still early.
Wiping the snow from my face and coat, I began to walk back to my truck which was but just a few feet away. I looked under the hood again, and noticed that it had suddenly appeared normal, except for the snow that was now melting upon its hot surface. The ice had gone, and the antifreeze pump sloshed at my touch. The truck was going to run again, and yet I wasn't sure why he had let me go. Why had he not ended it? I knew that he was back for some reason, and the reason was extremely apparent, even in my own mind. He wanted me to die! But yet, he hadn't killed me. He wasn't ready to do that yet, and I still didn't know why.
Within a few moments, I saw the flash of red and blue that could have only been the local cops who thought they had come upon another stranded victim in the snow without help. The siren whooped once, and then stopped immediately behind me. I heard two doors open and close and the sound of approaching footsteps as I felt a hearty clasp upon my shoulder who I could have only known to be my friend, Amelia Jones, a local flatfoot cop that came I came to know a few weeks ago after my apartment had been broken into.
"Clay?" she asked, "What are you doing out here? Don't you know the storm's supposed to get worse at midday?"
"Storm?" I asked apprehensively.
"Yeah", she said, "there's a big one getting ready to come off the Sound at about noon today. They're calling for strong wind gusts and about four or five more inches more than we have now. If this keeps up, we'll be as bad as the Northeast states were a little while back. What are you doing out here, anyway?"
I turned and looked into Amelia's bright shining face as she smiled at me. Amelia was barely in her mid-twenties and a rookie cop to boot. She had only been on the force a year, but she had the convictions and seasoning of a long-serving officer of the police department about her. Her face was heart-shaped, with a small nose and extremely pearly-white teeth that glistened when she allowed herself to grin. Her eyes were a simple brown, and her hair was as blonde as straw, but had been cut shoulder-length as to not make it necessary for her to deal with it like all ladies did first thing in the morning. If she had not been spoken for, there may have been a chance that we could have had something together. But, at the present moment, women were the furthest thing from my mind.
"I just thought I saw something in the storm", I answered, "I thought there was another stranded driver out here that could have used some help. As it is, my own truck stalled from the attempt. Sorry for the inconvenience. "
"Not a big one", she replied, politely, "This guy's my new partner, Tony Blevins. Tony, meet Clay James."
The other officer held out a hand in greeting and shook it absently. Blevins seemed to be the hard type, and his demeanor towards me at the moment looked to be one of annoyance rather than actual friendliness. He was little shorter than Amelia and a little stouter. Hi face looked like a train wreck, with a set of piercing eyes that would make the most unlikely of criminals cringe. His hair was brown and cut short, and his mouth always seemed to be in somewhat of a sneer. It made me wonder if he was voted 'Most Congenial' in high school when they were handing out the awards.
After the handshake, he turned to Amelia and saluted. "We'd better get back on the road", he said, "We're probably going to have a long day with accidents after what we've been on already."
"Right", she said, "Well, I'd better get going. Be careful driving to work, Clay, okay? The roads are going to be murder. If you need a lift after work, give me a call and I'll pick you up."
"That's okay", I said mildly, "My truck has four-wheel drive and it shouldn't be a problem. I'll just be on my way. Take care, Amelia."
Without another word, Amelia gave me a short half-hug and made her way back to her squad car, where she sped off after receiving another accident call.
As I got back in my truck and turned the ignition, I found that my mind was beginning to return to that day, and it was making my heart sink with the moments' passing. We had not meant to, yet we still did it. How were we supposed to know what would happen? We were kids, as we weren't supposed to know any better, right? Who would have known what was to happen that fateful day in the funhouse when we were going to get our revenge on the monster.
But, I realized that the more I had thought about it, the more that I was trying to justify actions that could have been avoided had I had but a clearer mode of thinking then. If I had thought about what I was doing rather than just doing it, he would have been alive today. Had it not been enough that when the police back home had started asking questions that I had told them exactly what happened? It hadn't been the whole truth, but it was the truth that was going to keep the four of us out of juvenile hall, and on top of that, an accidental death charge that would be on our records for the rest of our lives.
We had lived it with long enough, or at least, I should say that I had lived with it long enough. I never wanted to think of the boy as he had been so evil to us, and if we had not have done what we did, he would have been torturing us for the rest of our childhood. But, the others would not have gone along with it if I hadn't coerced them. It was supposed to be quick and painless, and merely just scare the living shit out of him, if anything else. But, it had not just scared him...it had killed him, and now we would have that on our memory for the rest of our lives, and there wasn't anything I could do about it.
After letting it warm up for a few minutes, I put the truck into drive and then coasted out onto the street again, checking my watch as I did so. It was 9 a.m., I was already ten minutes late, and I had a meeting with Larry in less than an hour over the new project. The day was already proving interesting, if not also frightening. What I didn't know was just how much more interesting things were going to get, and I didn't know whether to be concerned if I was losing my mind or not. If he was still alive, he would have been about five years older than me by now and probably have a family and kids of his own to worry about than to let an old prank fester upon his mind. I was sure he had forgotten all about it by now, and that his life had went on if he had survived.
But, I saw him die. We all did. We also saw him being put into the ground and watch as his mother wept for days, calling us 'evil little devils' and such forever thereafter. He had to have died, and if he didn't, it sure was great prank that he pulled on us and I would have to remember to commend him for it if we should ever meet again. If not, then I would simply just have to wait and see what happened next.
Feeling a little better, I took another sip of my coffee and turned on the radio. It had been a little while since I had been able to catch up on the local news. Turning the dial to my usual station, I waited and listened to the news as they rattled off about the oncoming storm and what was going on overseas. Whistling as I drove, I let my mind concentrate on the road as I was just a few blocks from my office.
Suddenly, I heard the station cut out into static and the DJ that had been there was replaced by a voice, low and distant. Fiddling with the knob, I twisted and turned it, hearing nothing but static form every station, both AM and FM. Sighing, I was about ready to turn it off, but then I heard the voice become a little louder as I braced myself for what came next.
'I see you, baby boy', it said laughing, 'I see you, nyah, nyah, and I'm going to get you, just like I did to the others.'
Spinning the dial off, I slammed on the brakes of the truck and came into a hard halt which made it start to skid a little in the road. Cold sweat ran down my face and my hands were shaking. It was him. It was the same voice that I had heard on the road, and now he was in my radio, tormenting me and trying to force me to come clean. But, I knew there was no way he could have gotten to the others, could he? He was dead, not unless....
I wouldn't let my mind entertain the idea as I started the truck again, starting to speed towards my job. If it was him, then I knew there would be no way for me to hide. I had read about stuff like this in books, but I never believed that it could actually happen to me. I had no real troubled past, none except for him. But, I couldn't let that affect my judgment now. I had to get my life back in order, and he wasn't going to stop me.
I wasn't going to let the boy known as 'Bing' Jeffries, the bully of Candle Street, stop me.