Fear of God (Trials of Strength Book 1) (2 page)

‘
Yeah, Mum, I
know. I love you too,’ I said. ‘Is everything okay?’

Part of me didn’t want to
know the answer. Her fear was contagious and I hated it with a
passion. For a second my mother stood there and stared at me, words
on the tip of her tongue. She shook herself, and the look was gone,
her eyes kind and warm again. Another quick hug and she
laughed.

‘
Of course it
is,’ she said. ‘You know me. I worry over everything: You, your
father; the bloody weather. You know anything and
everything.’

I noticed her smile
didn’t reach her eyes, but she was right. It was a trait she had
passed on to me, a nervous disposition for anything that threatened
our predictable little lives.

‘
I think your
old age is getting to you,’ I teased as I tried to lighten the
mood. ‘Soon the midlife crisis will kick in, and it’ll be
motorbikes and shopping sprees for you.’

She slapped my arm and
gasped in mock horror.

‘
I’ll have you
know, son, your mother still has it,’ she said, hand on her hip as
she threw her head back and winked.

‘
Well,’ I
chuckled, ‘I’m gonna go before
it
starts driving around town in leather.’

Again she laughed and
turned to the kitchen, but then stopped. She turned back and looked
at me.

‘
I think it’ll
be okay, now that I think about it, I think it’s
that
time of the month,’
she winked knowingly as I gasped.

‘
Mother!’ I
screamed. ‘I’m your son. I don’t want to hear about lady
times!’

She escaped to the
kitchen laughing at my shocked face before I could think up another
retort. I smiled and cringed, some of the tension in the air was
gone, but my stomach felt tight, and something bit at the back of
my mind. I knew something was off at that moment, something I
should have followed, but like any conflict, I passed it
off.

I did what most people
would have. If death himself had appeared at the door, no doubt I
would make him tea and ignore the obvious, only coming to my senses
when it was already too late.

‘
Love you,
Mum!’ I called as I opened the front door and lingered. ‘See you
after!’

‘
Bye, son!’
she called.

Before I could run back
inside and question the feeling I had, I turned and stepped
outside.

The
Tragedy

I entered the dull grey
day outside. The clouds hung in the sky, dark and depressing, as
the weak sun tried bravely to shine through the gaps. A thick fog
lingered on the ground from early morning. Winter was kicking into
full gear, and mist came with every exhale of breath. I exited the
garden and started down the street.

Greystone wasn’t a large
town, and since I lived in the centre, it wouldn’t take long to
reach my destination. A town like that and everyone knew each
other, tourists were rare and if you asked someone outside, they
would have no idea the town existed. Even certain maps didn’t have
the location marked on them, and on others, it was a tiny pinprick
in a sea of green. Greystone was almost completely surrounded by
mountains and glens, a tiny unknown town in the mountains of
Scotland.

It was claustrophobic at
times. There were a lot of places crammed into the town: A college,
a like-new hospital, Doctor’s surgery, secondary school. We were
too far from most places to travel to daily, and there was only one
bus that left town to the bigger city twice a day.

I turned onto Main Street
and greeted those I knew as I passed them. It was busy, as usual,
adults headed for work and children slouched to school as they
tried to avoid the first few minutes of class. Younger kids
screamed at their mothers for sweets, while shops were bursting,
and the road was filled with cars.

I reached the end of the
street and turned the last few corners. The building I headed for
loomed in the distance. I used to chuckle when I was young, the
town seemed repulsively keen on keeping to the colour schedule laid
out by its name: Grey. I approached the entrance, the building a
square block of concrete, completely unappealing. Its front was
glass, with its name above the doors, Greystone College.

The grounds were empty,
so I entered through the front doors and passed reception. I walked
the long hallways with their strong smell of bleach and shiny white
tile. When I reached my class I hesitated. Despite my best efforts
I was late a lot, and the walks of shame always filled me with
dread. All eyes would turn to me and the teacher would make a
fleeting comment about being late, and I hated being the centre of
attention.

I shivered and took a
deep breath, then opened the door with a knock. As predicted,
dozens of eyes shot in my direction, and Mr Williams made that
comment.

‘
Nice of you
join us, Mr Bishop,’ he said, sarcasm dripped from his words. ‘I’m
sorry we had to start without you, but there are only so many hours
in a day.’

I mouthed sorry and
headed for the safe haven at the back of the class. As you entered
the room, the left side was raised a few feet like a stage. The
teacher’s desk and whiteboard were there, as if whoever designed
the room wanted the faculty to feel superior, and to talk down to
their students. To the right were tables and chairs, arranged
randomly around the room.

After I took out my
things, I sat in a sort of daze. For a while I tried to pay
attention, but the restless night before caught up with me and
after a few hours, my head hit the table.

*

I sat in the cafeteria
during lunch and ate without much interest. I couldn’t focus on
much and all I wanted was to sleep, but I vowed to make it to the
end of the day. I wanted to leave and check up on my mother, but
part of me scoffed at the worry and boiled it down to
paranoia.

When the bell rang I
returned to class for the final time. I was almost asleep when
Gina, the receptionist, entered the room. I didn’t hear what she
whispered to Mr Williams, or see the worried glance they shot me,
but they started in my direction.

There was a tap on my
shoulder, and I looked up ready to apologise.

‘
Son, can you
come outside with us for a second?’ Mr Williams
whispered.

Beside him, Gina looked
terrible with her eyes wide and red with unshed tears. I nodded,
stood, and walked to the door, leaving my things behind me. It was
difficult to get my legs to work as my heart thudded faster and my
skin started to itch.

I turned, and the faces
of my peers worsened out of the sight of questioning eyes. Both
then looked shocked and scared, their mouths opened and closed as
they tried to figure out what to say. Gina tried to go first, but
her voice wouldn’t leave her body, and she looked desperately at Mr
Williams who, in turn, paled.

We stood that way for a
few minutes, the classroom we’d left burst with noise as it did
whenever the teacher left, but Mr Williams didn’t seem to notice.
His eyes darted from my face, to my shoes, to the bright lights
above. His feet shifted uncomfortably and he took a deep
breath.

‘
Son, your
mother just phoned in, and, um,’ he started and swallowed. ‘She had
bad news.’

Every hair on my body
sprang to life. The lights seemed to dim, and any exhaustion that
lingered vanished.

‘
What bad
news?’ I asked, but I had to clear my throat and ask
again.

They both just stared at
me, eyes crinkled with pity.

‘
What bad
news?’ I shouted, harsher than I’d meant to.

They jumped slightly, and
Mr Williams almost choked.

‘
I’m sorry
son, but your Dad’s had a heart attack,’ he whispered. ‘Your Mum
asked us to tell you to go home, and she’ll call with any
news.’

He said it in a rush, but
to me it felt like every word lasted far too long. My insides
dipped and the world spun. I waited in the silence for the part
where they laughed and joked about how they’d got me, but that was
wishful thinking, and a joke like that would be sick.

I turned and
ran.

I sprinted through the
clean hallways, the shocked faces of students stared as I went. I
hit the entrance, and barged through the glass doors when I
stopped. I shook, convinced that any minute then, the bile at the
back of my throat would burst free. I took several deep breaths and
grabbed a fistful of my hair. I couldn’t think, any thought I
conjured swirled and turned into panic.

No matter
what, I love you.

My mother’s
desperate words echoed in my brain. Had she known? Had she
suspected something might happen? If it had only just happened, how
had she known? I
knew
something was wrong, and what did I do? I left, abandoned her
when I had suspected something, abandoned her out of
fear.

I started forward again
with a fresh wave of guilt, and as I rushed through the streets, I
almost knocked over innocent bystanders. Thankfully, Main Street
was almost empty at that time. Men and women would be returning
home from work and school soon, planning to settle down for the
night with their families. I pushed that thought away as I turned
onto my street, jumped the fence around my garden, and crashed into
the door.

‘
Mum?’ I
shouted, but knew she wouldn’t be there.

I felt my pockets for my
mobile, but came up empty and remembered it was in my bag at
college. I inhaled a few breaths and walked into the living room. I
grabbed the wireless landline and dialled my mother’s number from
memory. I paced as adrenaline made my skin jump. When I heard
nothing on the phone I checked the screen and almost screamed. I
pulled at my hair as I realised I’d dialled the wrong number and
started again, taking my time and willing my hands to
steady.

I never saw him often,
but the thought of something happening to my father sent chills
through my veins. Not only him though. I didn’t think my mother
could handle him being gone, never having the chance to have those
proper family moments she dreamed of. It would tear this family
apart, and that was something that couldn’t fit in our safe,
predictable lives. Then again, when were we ever really safe? I dug
my fingers into my eyes, trying to gouge those thoughts from my
mind.

A ringing dial tone met
my ears and I stopped breathing to listen, waiting for her to
answer. I jumped as an old 80s pop song echoed throughout the
house, and turned to the door, my forehead creased.

She left it
here! She left her mobile here!

I gritted my teeth. I had
to wait until she called with something, and patience was never my
strong suit. With the landline still in my hand, I hunted the
ringing phone down. It didn’t take long, the kitchen door was
closed, but behind it was definitely the source. I pushed the door
and it creaked open slowly. My heart stopped and the phone in my
hand hit the floor.

There, in the middle of
the kitchen, behind the table I had had breakfast at just that
morning, was a body. The table hid most of it, two legs barely
visible at the edge. But those shoes, those trousers…

‘
Mum?’ I
whispered, my voice threatened to leave.

I started into the room,
but my legs had filled with lead, and they almost collapsed from
beneath. The kitchen twisted in my vision as my head lightened and
my stomach churned. Just next to the body’s shoes was a sickening
puddle of red. It looked thick, like syrup.

Oh, god.
Please, be okay, please…

‘
Mum?’ I
repeated.

There was no answer, and
selfishly, I stopped. I couldn’t round the table, couldn’t confirm
or deny if it was her because the ramifications of confirmation
were too much. It couldn’t happen, those things didn’t happen, not
to us. I knew that was childish, but I’d held onto the simplicity
of our lives for as long as I could remember, and nothing fit
together then.

I stared wide-eyed at the
pool of blood. I was oblivious to the rest of the world, and before
I could react, footsteps filled the hall behind me. There was sharp
pain at the back of my skull.

And the world blinked
into darkness.

The
Trigger

It was safe there among
such soft, white clouds. I floated, flying like a bird. Pain and
darkness were a bitter memory, something that couldn’t touch me
there. I closed my eyes and journeyed through the endless white. I
was safe. I was free.

And then I wasn’t. The
clouds turned dark, as black as midnight and screams filled the
air. Countless screeches filled with terror and pain. There was one
nearby, someone screaming high pitched, in fear for their
life.

No, it wasn’t someone
else, it was me.

Whatever force kept me
aloft abandoned me. I fell, hard and fast, to the nightmares that
lay below…

*

At first I didn’t realise
I was conscious. The ground below was soft, but it spun
sickeningly. I could feel a sharp throbbing in my head, and
something warm slid down the back of my neck. I tried to collect my
thoughts, but the pain had set my ears ringing and I groaned. Two
voices stopped. Voices I only realised were there after they were
gone.