The boy cowered
in his room as the footsteps in the hallway outside grew louder … closer. His heart beat hard, thumping against his ribcage, and his mouth ran dry. Swallowing against the tightness in his throat, his eyes locked on the closed door.

Part of him willed the door to open, while the other part prayed it would remain shut. Though he was without a clock in his room, he knew what time it was. Every day was the same—meals brought to his room by the people who worked for his father, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. All interspersed by his lessons.

His father’s lessons came with both reward and punishment in equal measures.

The door cracked open and he huddled farther in on himself, his arms wrapped around his skinny knees. It didn’t matter how small he made himself, he would never be able to resist the force of his father.

The door swung open. The man himself stood in the open doorway, silhouetted against the brighter light from the hall. The boy’s bedroom, though beautifully furnished with everything he could need, had no windows—no way for him to get out, or for someone else to get in. Occasionally, if he’d grasped a particular mathematical equation quickly or some other concept in the studies his father worked him so hard at, he’d be allowed outside to run around the grounds of their huge home, but never for long, and never unsupervised.

“Hello, little monster,” his father said. “Are you ready for your lessons?”

He lowered his head in shame. “Yes, Father.”

He knew what monsters were from the books he read—terrifying creatures that preyed upon the weak and vulnerable. Yet, somehow, he felt he was the weak one, though his father would never let him voice his concerns. But his father must be right. He knew he was monstrous to behold—why else would no other person look directly at him? He simply needed his insides to catch up with what was so clearly on the outside.

His father, as always, wore a sharp grey suit. His features were hard, but handsome, with a smoothly shaven jaw. The boy had never seen his father with as much as a five o’clock shadow. His dark hair was now almost fully salt and peppered with white, but beautifully cut and smoothed back from his wide forehead with product. The boy didn’t know how old his father was. He could have been forty or sixty. He didn’t even know his own age, though he knew he was no longer a small boy, but not yet a teenager. He’d never been told of a birthday, a way to mark his passing years. Only his reading, to which his father allowed him almost uncontrolled access, allowed him to make these assumptions.

His father’s eyes never stopped on the boy’s face. Instead, he looked everywhere apart from directly at his son. The boy knew he was different. Though his father rarely allowed him from his room, and would not allow mirrors inside the luxurious prison, he still had his sense of touch. Lifting his hand to his face, he felt the slightly raised, softer flesh which ran down one side of his face. The line where the two different skins met ran almost perfectly down the center of his forehead, along the inside of the left side of his nose, curving down his cheek to skirt his mouth and finally end at his jaw line.

Yet, despite his revulsion, his father seemed intent on his education, tutoring him in science, math, English, history. He even taught the boy about finances, the complications of managing a business—profit, tax, and loss.

He saw other adult
s
,
people who worked for his father. They brought him his meals, or supervised him during the times he was allowed to roam outside, or through the seemingly endless hallways and rooms of the house. Even now, he didn’t think he had seen the whole property. But those he encountered made him want to hide back in his bedroom. He saw how they looked at him, their eyes skirting over one side of his face, their cheeks heating, or else draining of color, before they glanced away. He sensed their revulsion, dismay, awkwardness. What was so wrong with him, only a child, to be able to cause such powerful emotions in adults? On the odd occasion, one of his father’s employees lost that sense of revulsion, and began to grow close to him—perhaps not looking him in the eye, no one did that, but patting his leg, and offering him some affection, some comfort. When that happened, somehow, his father always knew, and the boy never saw that person again.

His father finished the lesson. “You did well today. It pleases me to see you learning so well.” His father reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair, and his heart sang with pleasure. Human contact was something he got so rarely, it made him want to crawl into the man’s lap and rub his head against his chest.

Knowing such displays would be punished, instead, he ducked his head. “Thank you, Father.” He hoped the effort he’d given would be rewarded. “Does that mean you’ll let me walk outside again?”

His father’s shoulders stiffened. “Is that all you work hard for? A little sunlight and fresh air?”

His stomach coiled in on itself, retracting. He’d made a mistake. He shouldn’t have spoken. “No … I just …”

The blow came from out of nowhere, knocking him from his chair and spilling him to the floor. His ear rang, his vision on one side blurred and dancing with stars.

His father’s huge form stood over him. “The sunlight and fresh air are not made for someone like you. They will never be your friends. Daylight will only make people more frightened of you—you are meant to be one with the dark.” He reached down and grasped the boy’s jaw in his viselike grip. “What are you?” he demanded.

“A monster,” the boy whispered.

His father’s fingers dug harder, pain clutching the boy’s entire face. “Say it louder. What are you?”

“A monster!” he said, again, but this time his voice was a wail.

“Again!” his father demanded, giving his face a shake.

“A monster! A monster! A monster!”

His father finally released him. “Good. And don’t ever forget it. The moment you think you are normal, that people will treat you the same as the rest, that is the moment they will see your weakness and they will kill you.”

His father turned and left the room. The boy rocked in the corner, clutching his smarting cheek and ringing ear. His father’s words rang in his head…

Monster…

One

The girl stared
at herself in the mirror, her eyes wide and watery. She lifted her hand to place against her chin, but Lily Drayton’s voice stopped her movement.

“Uh-uh. No touching. You need to keep the area clean.”

The girl gave a tentative smile, her eyes meeting with Lily’s in the mirror.

The girl’s mother stepped forward and touched Lily on the elbow.

“Thank you so much,” she said softly. “This is making such a difference to Heather. I can see the change in her already. Her confidence over these last few months has soared.”

Lily tried not to jerk away from the other woman’s hand on her arm. “You’re more than welcome. Remember to moisturize the area three to four times a day, more if needed, and no exposure to the sun, okay?”

The mother’s eyebrows lifted.

Lily smiled. “I know, I know. You’ve heard this all before, but that doesn’t mean I can’t remind you again.”

“Sure, I understand.” She turned to her daughter. “Time to go, Heather.”

The girl ran over and flung her arms around Lily’s waist. “Thank you, Lily.”

Every muscle in Lily’s body tensed, and she forced herself to relax.
It’s a little girl, for God’s sake
.

“So, I take it you’re done for the day,” Heather’s mother asked as Lily walked them out to the now deserted reception.

“Yeah,” said Lily. “I squeezed you guys in. I should have been done over an hour ago.”

“We appreciate you making time. I’m sure you have better places to be this late on a Friday.”

Lily offered them a smile. “Nah, not really. I’d much rather have been helping Heather.”

The little girl beamed, and Lily’s gaze flicked down the palm-sized birthmark which started on the girl’s chin and spread down her neck. The months of laser therapy were helping to reduce the port wine stain, but it still stood out against the girl’s pale skin.

“We’ll see you in six weeks,” she said.

“Thank you. Goodnight.”

She let them leave and then went back to her office. Everyone else had gone home for the night. Lily wrote up her notes, and then shut down the computer and all the equipment.

Picking up her purse, she finally left the office.

“Goodnight, Dwayne,” she called to the elderly man who cleaned the building after hours. The older man didn’t even look up from his mop, but simply raised his chin to acknowledge he’d heard her.

Lily Drayton’s laboratory was located on the fourth floor of the building—well, laboratory was probably a little steep a name. It was more like a beauty treatment room, but with more technology. But what she did wasn’t just about beauty, it was about treating the person inside. While she could never cure a patient, she could make them feel better about themselves, allow them to walk with their chin held high, and that was the most important thing. If only she could find something that would have the same effect on herself.

Her car was parked in the underground garage linked to the building. She caught the elevator to the bottom level and stepped out. The place was deserted, everyone else having gone home to their families hours ago.

Except tonight the underground lot wasn’t empty. Parked in a spot near her own car was a black BMW, all of its windows blacked out.

Lily frowned and slowed her walk. She didn’t recognize the vehicle, though that didn’t mean anything. The owner might be in the building somewhere attending a late evening meeting with a colleague, or perhaps conducting an affair, and using the deserted office as a rendezvous point. The building shared the space with numerous businesses, so she had no way of knowing who the car belonged to.

Despite all her internal reassurances, the position of the car bothered her. The lot was empty, so why park so close to her car? People always acted as though they were on buses, positioning themselves at a comfortable distance from others, yet this person had chosen to park right beside her. She was sure the BMW hadn’t been there that morning; surely she would have noticed.

Lily hesitated, wondering if she should go back into the building and ask the cleaner to escort her back down, but then she shook her head at herself. She couldn’t do that. She was standing only a few yards from her car now. Turning around and running away simply because of a strange car was ridiculous.

Clearing her throat and plunging her hand into her purse to retrieve her keys, she kept going. She gripped the keys between her knuckles, so she could use the metal end as a weapon if needed. Perhaps she was acting crazy, but her instincts were on high alert. Her heart pounded, every muscle tensed, all the hairs on her body standing on end. She twisted her head from side to side, trying to spot someone lurking in the numerous dark shadows in the parking lot, but she was alone.

No one would miss her if she didn’t go home—there was no one there to miss her. No one would even think something might have happened to her until she missed the next day’s appointments, but then she realized it was Friday. She didn’t have any appointments the next day. It was going to be just another day spent on the couch, accompanied by whatever she’d decide to binge watch on Netflix, and a chilled bottle of Pinot Grigio.

But she reached her car and quickly unlocked the door, before sliding into the driver’s seat. Quickly, she pulled the door shut behind her and hit the button to lock all the doors. She exhaled a sigh of relief, and gave herself a shake. What was wrong with her? Getting spooked, alone in the dark like a child.

Plugging the key into the ignition, she brought her reliable Ford to life. The old engine grumbled around her, and she slid the gear into reverse and twisted in her seat to pull out of the space.

A woman holding a baby against her chest staggered out of the dark. Her dress was torn, her hair ragged. Black eye makeup streamed down her face. The woman lifted her arm toward the car, her eyes beseeching, in a gesture Lily couldn’t mistake as ‘help me.’

“Oh, my God.”

She’d been right about there being something bad happening in the garage, only it hadn’t been her it had happened to.

Not thinking any further, she slammed the brakes on, and shoved the shift stick back into park. Someone needed help, and someone with a baby, at that. Had the poor woman been raped? She’d certainly been attacked. How could anyone do such a thing to a woman and child?

Just as she opened the car door, her senses clicked into place and she reached over and grabbed her cell phone from her purse on the passenger seat. The woman needed help, the police needed to be involved, and most likely the hospital too.

She swung open the car door and jumped out. The woman was crying as she staggered toward Lily, the baby wrapped in a blanket and held tight.

Was the baby even alive held in such a way?

“Help me,” the woman sobbed as she stumbled toward Lily’s car. “Please, there was a man ...” She glanced around frantically, as though she expected her attacker to come launching out of the dark toward her.

“It’s okay,” Lily said. “It’s just you and me. I’ve got my cell. I’m going to call the cops, okay?”

She glanced down at the phone and realized she had no cell coverage.
Shit.
Of course she didn’t below ground.

“We need to go into the building,” she said, taking a couple of steps toward the woman. The woman cowered away in response.

“It’s okay,” Lily tried again. “We can use a phone. We can get you—”

Something hard and heavy connected with the back of her head. Pain shot through her skull, white light flashing in front of her eyes. Her legs crumpled, and she dropped heavily to the garage floor. By luck, the way she’d fallen meant her arm had cushioned her head, and she was conscious enough to register her relief. If she’d hit her head again, she was sure it would have caused permanent damage. She became aware of someone else nearby, a large, menacing presence.

There was movement above her, and she blinked, trying to bring the scene into focus.

Her attacker stepped forward, toward the woman and baby.

No,
she cried in her head.
Leave them alone. Don’t hurt them.

She heard a rustling, and, instead of attacking them, the man handed the woman something.

“There’s the rest of your money,” he grunted. “Now get the hell out of here, and forget you ever saw anything.”

What
? Lily screamed silently.
What the hell is happening?

The woman’s voice now. “It’s already forgotten.”

Then the woman opened her arms and the baby hit the floor with a crack, landing only inches from where Lily had fallen. Lily would have screamed if she’d been able to connect her brain to her mouth.

Her eyes sought the baby, wanting to know if it was alive.

Her heart tripped over itself, her vision turning grey at the edges, slowly creeping in.

No, no, no.
This couldn’t be happening to her.

The man stood over her, his presence threatening in every way—his size, the stench of stale cigarettes, his heavy breathing. He leaned down and hit her again, the smack making her head rock, pain spearing through her skull and down her spine.

Her last thought before the darkness claimed her …

A doll. The baby is a doll ...

BOOK: Defaced: A Dark Romance Novel

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