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- Herausgeber: Pie Press
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
Sixteen-year-old Charlie West has nowhere left to turn. A cyberstalker named Conscience has made her life a nightmare, bullying her by remote control. But in Charlie’s darkest hour, she discovers Nil, a radical underground movement using guerilla tactics to crush the worst bullies around. Charlie joins Nil and works high-risk missions, taking down bullies while playing a deadly cat-and-mouse game with her stalker. But when a trusted ally betrays Nil from within, Charlie must stand alone against Conscience...and her high-stakes war against the ultimate bully might just force her to make the ultimate sacrifice. Don't miss this story by award-winning young adult writer Robert Jeschonek, a master of unique and unexpected books that really pack a punch.
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Unbullied
A YOUNG ADULT THRILLER
ROBERT JESCHONEK
Contents
Also by Robert Jeschonek
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
About the Author
Special Preview: A Pinstriped Finger’s My Only Friend
UNBULLIED
Copyright © 2023 by Robert Jeschonek
http://bobscribe.com/
Cover Art Copyright © 2023 by Ben Baldwin
www.benbaldwin.co.uk
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved by the author.
Published by Pie Press Publishing
411 Chancellor Street
Johnstown, Pennsylvania 15904
www.piepresspublishing.com
Also by Robert Jeschonek
A Pinstriped Finger’s My Only Friend
Bloodliner
Heaven Bent
Six Fantasy Stories Volume One
Six Superhero Stories Volume One
The Return of Alice
Prologue
3:00AM
Charlie West didn't scream when the attackers grabbed her from behind. It wouldn't have done much good on the small town's empty street at three in the morning, anyway.
Instead of screaming, she clenched her teeth and fought back. She thrashed wildly, straining to break free. She elbowed and kicked, lashing out as hard as she could at whomever had grabbed her. She even managed to land a few solid blows. She heard someone, a woman, cry out, and felt one pair of hands let go.
But the other two attackers held on tight; they simply overpowered her. Twisting around, Charlie got a quick look at them, and understood why.
They were full-grown men. Black ski masks covered their faces, but their frames under the black coveralls they wore were clearly those of adult men.
As much of a fighter as Charlie was, she was only sixteen years old. And she was the opposite of a brute--skinny and kind of gawky, more of a runner than a fighter. She'd rather be reading, watching movies, or playing role-playing games than participating in any kind of sports.
At least, that was how she used to be, back before Conscience started making her life miserable.
Was that who was behind this attack? Even as Charlie fought to escape the men holding her, she wondered if they were working for Conscience...or even, if he was one of them. For all she knew, the third attacker, the woman, might even be Conscience.
The thought of it made Charlie fight harder than ever. Wrenching one arm up, she lunged at the man's hand holding on to it and sank her teeth into his black leather glove. Jerking one leg back and up, she drove the heel of her sneaker into the same man's thigh.
If she could just loosen their grip on her a little, she could snap free and run for it. She knew downtown Vichyburg, West Virginia by heart--there wasn't that much to know--and she could easily lose them in its back alleys and doorways.
Charlie heaved forward, then bucked left, toward the man she'd bitten and kicked. His grip loosened ever so slightly...
Then, before Charlie could make her next move, the third attacker, the woman, stormed in front of her, carrying something made of black cloth.
It was a hood. Darting in close, the woman raised it with both hands over Charlie's head. But Charlie wasn't going to let the woman pull it down over her face without a fight. She redoubled her effort, thrashing like a wild animal, keeping her head out from under the hood...at least until one of the men grabbed the back of her neck and held her still.
With a sudden movement, the woman plunged the hood down over Charlie's head, and everything went dark.
Disoriented, Charlie stopped fighting just long enough for them to restrain her arms with some kind of plastic strap that dug into her wrists. Was it a zip tie, maybe?
The next thing she knew, they were lifting her off her feet and hauling her away through the cool October night. She heard car doors open and felt her captors slide her into some kind of vehicle.
Her heart pounded like the heart of a pilot on a crashing plane, jackhammering with pure terror. The whole time, one name loomed in her mind, lit up with blazing red neon in the darkness of the hood: Conscience. Were they delivering her to Conscience?
If they were, this might be her last night alive.
ChapterOne
18 Hours Earlier
"Stop the violence!" chanted the cheerleader squad, bouncing in unison in the middle of the school gymnasium. "Down with bullying! Down with bullying!"
In one smooth series of movements, the twelve cheerleaders in their red and white uniforms rearranged themselves from a single line to a pyramid. With nimble grace, one blonde girl climbed to the top and stood tall on the backs of her teammates, beaming and shaking her pompoms.
The crowd of students packing the stands clapped and roared. Every last one of them wore a red t-shirt with the words "BULLYING IS BULL" on the chest. Below the words, there was an image of a black circle with a clenched fist in the middle and a black bar slashing through the circle overtop it.
As the cheerleader at the peak of the pyramid did a backflip, the applauding students leaped to their feet...all except one slim, dark-haired 11th-grade girl sitting in the middle of the bleachers. Her name was Charlie West.
Charlie's mind was far away from the latest anti-bullying rally at Papon Valley High School. Her eyes were huge, but not because she was amazed by the cheerleaders' feats. Her heart was pounding, but not because she was feeling inspired by the message of the rally or the unity of the crowd.
Her eyes were huge and her heart was pounding because the cell phone in the pocket of her bluejeans had just vibrated twice, signaling the arrival of a text message.
And the chances were good that it wasn't any kind of text she wanted to read. They never were, these days.
"Yeah!" As the phone vibrated again, Principal Paul Kafka marched across the gym floor in front of the cheerleaders, shouting into a white megaphone. "That's how we roll in Papon Valley, right? No more bullying!" He shook his fist in the air when he said it.
The crowd repeated his words and stomped on the risers for emphasis. "No more bullying!"
"Not in our school!" shouted Kafka.
"Not in our school!" said the crowd.
Nobody seemed to notice or care that Charlie wasn't joining the chant. They were too caught up in the action, and Charlie was kind of a background person to begin with. People didn't pay a lot of attention to her, especially these days, when she tended to fade into her own distractions.
Like the vibrating phone in her pocket and the person who was undoubtedly texting her. The one who was making her life a little more of a living hell every day.
She wanted to ignore the phone, forget about her tormentor for a while...but she knew she had to deal with him. She had no choice, considering what was at stake. Considering who was at stake.
Sliding her hand into her pocket, she pulled out the phone. She slipped deeper into the nightmare her world had become.
Even as Principal Kafka paced the floor and shouted down below. "People tell me you can't have a school without bullying! They say you can't fight it!" He shrugged out of his suit jacket as he paced. "Do you know what I tell them? Bull!" Dramatically, he whipped the jacket across the floor. "Bullying is bull!"
"Bullying is bull!" repeated the crowd.
"Because when you've got good people like we've got here," said Kafka, "and they're all committed to a zero tolerance for bullying policy, you can't help but win!"
The crowd roared and stomped. No one seemed to be paying the slightest bit of attention to Charlie.
She kept her phone out of sight the best she could anyway, holding it down at her side against her hip. Cell phones were banned in class and at assemblies, so if someone was watching and ratted her out, she could really get busted.
When the crowd cheered again, Charlie turned her hand so the phone was face-up and glanced at its screen. Immediately, her eyes widened and her heart beat faster.
Because she'd been right. It was him again...or her. She thought of her tormentor as a male, but the truth was, Charlie had never seen him, and he'd never identified his gender. He could just as easily have been a female, not that it mattered.
Because it was the same person, the one she'd expected. The name at the top of the screen was the same as always.
Conscience.
And below it was another in a long line of terrible messages. In fact, it was the worst one yet.
SCORCHED EARTH ROUND! it read. UR FAMILY DIES IN 15 MIN IF YOU ARENT HOME TO SAVE THEM!!!!
Charlie's stomach wrenched. Her eyes shot to the time stamp under the message: 9:05 AM.
Somehow, she had to get home by 9:20. Because there wasn't a doubt in her mind that Conscience would do it. He was perfectly capable of causing someone's death.
Charlie knew this because he'd done it before.
She didn't hesitate. Shooting to her feet, she pushed her way through the crowd, working her way down the stands. The whole time, she kept her hand over her mouth and looked like she was sick enough to throw up at any moment. Which actually wasn't much of a stretch; her gut was churning at the thought of what Conscience might do.
Fueled by blind panic, Charlie burst free of the stands and hit the floor running. Teachers in "Bullying Is Bull" t-shirts stood along the foul line in front of the bleachers, some frowning with concern at her as she charged past, but none of them moved to stop her.
Then, Charlie bolted around the corner of the stands, aiming for the exit, and ran right into Vice Principal Kurt Driscoll.
"Whoa there." He caught her by the shoulders and tipped her back to meet his gaze. "Where's the fire?"
Charlie kept her hand clamped over her mouth as she looked up at him. "Sick!" She sucked in her breath like she was gagging, trying to convince him.
Driscoll's deep, dark eyes warmed with worry. "Come on, then. I'll get you to the nurse's office."
Charlie shook her head hard. Driscoll was a great guy, she liked him a lot, but the clock in the back of her head was spinning like a propeller on a plane in flight. "No time!"
She took a chance then and bucked left, breaking his grip. Before he could say another word, she sprinted away from him through the open doors.
Behind her, Principal Kafka was still shouting through his megaphone. "How do we roll, Papon Valley?"
"Bullying is bull!" roared the crowd. "Not in our school!"
ChapterTwo
Charlie's phone vibrated in her pocket as she swung a hard left and bolted down the hall. She reached for the phone with the hand she'd been clamping over her mouth; no need to feign illness anymore.
As she ran toward the building exit at the end of the hall, she raised the phone and read the screen. It was Conscience again, of course. These days, it was always Conscience.
TEN MINUTES & COUNTING! he wrote. DONT BOTHER BEGGING FOR A MINUTE MORE!!!
Charlie stuffed the phone back in her pocket and burst through the door, blinking at the bright sunlight.
Even as she kept running down the sidewalk, jet black hair flying, her stomach clenched. She was outside, but now what?
The parking lot was dead ahead. Her house was five minutes away by car...seven to ten if the lights and traffic were uncooperative.
But Charlie didn't own a car.
Tears welled in her eyes as reality set in. There was no way she could make it home in time on foot. Even running at top speed--which was pretty fast--and cutting through yards, she didn't have a hope in Hell of beating Conscience's deadline.
Hysteria burned in her heart, threatening to swell up and overwhelm her. She only had one choice, to run for all she was worth, even though she knew for a fact that it would never be enough.
Then, suddenly, she had a second choice.
Hearing voices, Charlie looked left. In the far back corner of the parking lot, she saw familiar faces, and she couldn't believe it. Three boys were fighting by a car back there, two against one...
And the one was her next-door neighbor, Nolan Elliot.
Revived with hope, Charlie sprinted through the parking lot like she was running for a medal in the 40-yard dash. That was Nolan's car near the fight, his red Mustang; she aimed for it with single-minded determination, blocking out everything else.
Including her phone, which was vibrating again in her pocket.
As she ran closer, the boys stopped hitting each other and looked in her direction. Thinking as fast as she was running, she started talking before she'd even come to a stop in front of them.
"Nolan!" she shouted. "We need to go! It's an emergency!"
Nolan stared at her like she was a raving moron. His lip was swollen, his blond hair bloody, one blue eye bruised black...but if he was happy she'd stopped the fight, he didn't show it. "What?"
"Please!" Charlie grabbed him by the front of his black t-shirt--ignoring the fact that it wasn't the red anti-bullying shirt he should have been wearing to the rally. "I'm telling you, it's an emergency!"
One of the other boys--the redhead with the football player build and the bright green eyes--stepped up and grabbed her shoulder. "What kind'a joke is this?" His name was Gantry Gulick, and he was one of the most popular kids in school.
Charlie shook her shoulder free and whirled on him. "No joke! Now move!" She shoved him away with both hands. "Or someone might die because of you!"
Gantry looked furious, but he backed up. His African-American crony, Devon Sharpe, another popular football star, hesitated a moment, then did the same.
The phone vibrated again in Charlie's pocket, feeding her urgency. "Let's go!" She ran around the passenger side of the Mustang, wrenched the door open, and shot inside. "Come on!"
Nolan didn't follow at first, and she thought he might not help her. After all, the days of their friendship were long gone. He hadn't wanted anything to do with her for ages.
But then he threw his own door open and dropped in beside her. "Is this really an emergency?"
"Oh my God yes! You've got to leave now!" She dug the phone from her pocket and read the latest text from Conscience:
FIVE MINUTE WARNING!!! TICK TOCK TICK TOCK BAANNGG!!!
"And drive as fast you can!" said Charlie.
Nolan started the car, threw it in reverse, and swung it back out of its space. "Drive where, Charlie? Drive where?"
"Home!" Tears poured down Charlie's cheeks. Even if Nolan drove like a maniac, they probably wouldn't make it in time. "Get me to my house as fast as you can!"
"Why? What's going on?" Nolan shifted into first gear and stomped the accelerator. Gantry and Devon were yelling something, but their voices were drowned out by the Mustang's squealing tires.
"Please trust me." Charlie gripped the sides of the seat and watched with wide eyes as scenery flew past. "It's a matter of life and death!"
ChapterThree
Hunched behind the steering wheel, Nolan ran every stop sign and red light. He barely missed getting t-boned twice in the process. Once, when he came up on a black Fifth Avenue waiting to make a left turn, he ran up over the curb and blew past it on the right without slowing down.
Meanwhile, Charlie spent the ride silent and motionless, staring frozen out the window...but inside, she was spinning like a twig in a cyclone. Even as she raced the clock, hoping and praying she could make it home in time, she feared it wasn't possible. The implications of that shook her to the core.
What she was about to experience would be so terrible that aftershocks of the moments ahead seemed to slam back into her from the future. Images of her mother and little brother, Tim, the way she feared she would find them, kept pushing their way to the front of her mind, no matter how hard she tried to force them away.
As the Mustang fishtailed around one last right turn, the phone vibrated in her hand. The message on the screen blurred through the tears in her eyes:
TIMES UP!!! GAME OVER!!!
She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw herself out of the moving car.
But she didn't. Because home was dead ahead, three houses away on the right. Her heart was already broken; she already knew what she would find, and what it would do to her forever.
But she had no choice. She had to live through it.
She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Closed her eyes and opened them again. The white split-level where she lived looked no different than any other day...but for some reason, that made the thought of what waited inside even more horrifying.
As soon as the Mustang jolted to a stop in front of her house, she leaped out and ran, sprinting up the driveway toward the front stoop. But as she charged up the steps, she didn't bother grabbing the front door key from her pocket.
She didn't need the key because the front door was ajar. It was standing open, pushed a few inches in from the jamb.
Not a good sign.
Without thinking or hesitation, Charlie barreled through the open door and up the few stairs to the living room. The phone fell from her hand en route and bumped down the carpeted steps to clatter on the linoleum landing below.
Spinning in a circle, she saw no one in the living room. Heart thundering, she ran through the doorway into the kitchen and saw more of the same there.
Adrenaline blazed through her bloodstream as she hurtled out of the kitchen and down the short hallway toward the bedrooms. Whatever she was going to find, she was getting closer to it.
"Mom?" The door to her mother's room was wide open, and Charlie darted inside. Not only was no one in there, but the place looked completely undisturbed.
Except for a yellow sticky note on one of the pillows on the bed.
Charlie snatched it up and read what was written on the note with a sinking heart:
R.I.P. MOM!
Choking back a sob, Charlie dropped the note and ran to the next door down the hall--Tim's room. Again, the door was wide open; again, no one was inside. The only thing out of place in the ten-year-old's cluttered room was a yellow sticky note on the bed-pillow.
R.I.P. TIM!
That left one room upstairs...Charlie's room, at the end of the hall.
The room with the door shut tight.
She ran for it, then hesitated with her hand on the knob. She never closed her door when she left for school in the morning; Conscience must have closed it for her, meaning...
Whatever she was going to find, it had to be in there.
She hesitated a moment more, wanting more than anything not to go in. Wanting only to run back down the hall and out of the house and leave it all behind for the rest of her life.
But that, she knew she couldn't do.
Shivering, Charlie closed her eyes. Slowly, she turned the knob and eased the door open. Her heart pounded so hard, it felt like a caged animal trying to smash its way out of her chest.
Then, she opened her eyes and looked inside.
And the look of terror on her face became a scowl of confusion. Because what she saw was not at all what she'd expected to see.
There was no one in the room, dead or alive. Wherever Mom and Tim were, they weren't in Charlie's room.
And just like the other two bedrooms, the only thing visibly out of place was a yellow sticky note on the bed.
Shuffling over, Charlie looked down and read the note without touching it.
GOTCHA! it said. NEXT TIME ITS FOR REALS!
"Charlie?"
Even as Charlie jumped, she realized the voice behind her belonged to Nolan. Whirling, she saw him standing in the doorway, frowning.
"You must've dropped this on the stairs." He held out Charlie's phone, which vibrated in his hand. "Somebody's texting you."
Charlie stepped toward him and snapped the phone from his grip without a word. Sure enough, Conscience had sent her another message:
This was only a drill. If it had been an actual emergency, your family would be dead.
As she read the text, another one popped in below it:
But if you play your cards right, YOUR the only one who has to die at the end of all this.
"What's going on, Charlie?" Nolan's frown deepened. "What the hell's happening here?"
Charlie wondered if he'd read the text before giving her the phone. "A misunderstanding."
"You said it was a matter of life and death!"
Charlie rubbed her eyes. "I guess it wasn't after all."
"Seriously?" Nolan was starting to sound annoyed. "That's your explanation?"
Charlie nodded. There'd been a time when she would have told him everything without hesitation. They'd been best friends years ago...back before he grew into a good-looking blond football player, and she became an offbeat outsider. But those days were long gone now.
"So, what?" said Nolan. "Was this all an excuse to get me to give you a ride home?" The annoyance in his voice was shifting to anger. "Is that what this is all about?"
Charlie stared at the floor, then met his gaze. She wished she could unload, wished she could believe their friendship still existed. But he'd left her behind when he'd gotten popular at school. Little by little, he'd pulled away, until one day, he'd even stopped saying hi to her.
And the distance between them hadn't changed, even after everything that had happened to him. Even after he'd suddenly quit football and dropped out of the popular crowd. Even after he'd gone from golden boy to withdrawn loner.
All of which had started after the deaths of his mother and sister, Fay, six months ago.
"Answer my question," said Nolan. "Was this whole thing a scam to get me to drive you home?"
Charlie almost told him the truth. It floated on the tip of her tongue for an instant...but then Conscience's words came back to her. She remembered the threat he'd made six weeks ago, when he'd first started texting her.
IF YOU TELL ANYONE OR TRY TO GET HELP, YOU WILL MOVE TO THE TOP OF MY LIST...RIGHT AFTER YOUR FAMILY.
"Yes." Charlie folded her arms and shrugged. "I figured it was the only way to get you to give me a lift."
"Unbelievable." Nolan shook his head. "Well, that'll be the last lift I give you."
"Whatever." Charlie tried to sound like she didn't care.
"Bitch." Nolan spun...then paused in the doorway and looked back over his shoulder at her. "Though I have to hand it to you, you're a hell of an actress. You had me fooled."
"That was the idea," said Charlie.
"I could've sworn you were really losing it in the car." Nolan shook his head again. "I thought you were so freaked out, you were ready to jump out of your skin."
"Yay me," said Charlie. "I guess I get the Oscar for Best Actress, don't I?"
"Best something," said Nolan, and then he walked away.
He slammed the front door on his way out. And that was Charlie's signal to collapse on her bed in a sobbing, shivering heap.
ChapterFour
When Charlie's hysterical shock finally let up, she grabbed her phone and texted her mother: Mom? A message shot right back from Mom: Hi honey. Do you need something?
Nope. Charlie blew out her breath as a wave of relief coursed through her. Later.
Next, Charlie called the elementary school. Deepening her voice, she told the secretary in the administrative office that she was Tim's mother; then, she asked if he was feeling well, because she'd thought he might be coming down with something.
"As far as I know, he's fine," said the secretary. "Do you need to speak to him?
"No, thank you," Charlie told her. "Just let me know if he takes a turn for the worse." She hung up before the secretary could say another word.
Then, Charlie threw herself back on the bed and let more waves of relief ripple through her. Mom and Tim were both okay. She hadn't dared believe it until she'd seen and heard proof from Mom and the school secretary. It would've been just like Conscience to lie about not killing them.
Slumping heavily into the pillow and mattress, Charlie stared up at the tile ceiling, remembering what she'd just been through. All of it had been for nothing--nothing but Conscience's sadistic amusement.
Why did he hate her so much? All Charlie knew was that he blamed her for making him do the awful things he did.
She wished she could understand why he said it was her fault. She wished she knew what she'd done to Conscience to set his crimes in motion.
Maybe then, she could stop him before anyone else died.
Raising the phone, she scrolled back through the parade of texts he'd sent her over the past six weeks. She saw the casualties in reverse order, announced by Conscience with all the gloating glee of someone who'd just won a hand of high stakes poker.
Louisa Morelli. Kelli Pale. Stephanie Ross.
The names of the dead were always the last things Conscience revealed. He told Charlie everything else every step of the way...how he was using threatening texts to tear each girl down until she killed herself. But Conscience only sent Charlie their names when they were dead; that way, even if she decided to defy him, she still couldn't help the victims.
Later, she would see their photos on the TV news and online, and she would feel sick. All three of the girls were her age; they'd all gone to different schools, schools other than Charlie's, and she'd never known them or even heard their names before.
But because Conscience had brought her into his nightmare, she felt partly responsible for their deaths. Though she'd done the only thing she could--texting him back, pleading with him to leave each girl alone--she still felt in her heart that she should have done more. She still felt like an accomplice for keeping his terrible secrets.
Even though the price for revealing them was moving to the top of Conscience's hit list, along with her family. Though, after what had just happened, Charlie was starting to think they were already there.
NEXT TIME ITS FOR REALS! That was what he'd written on the sticky note he'd left. Did that mean that she and her family would be the next to die? Was that why Conscience was turning up the pressure on her?
Rolling over on her side to face the wall, she curled up in a ball and cried. She hated the thought of dying; she hated the thought of Mom and Tim dying even more.
And she hated the fact that she found herself wishing there were more people ahead of them on Conscience's list.
* * *
"Charlie?"
The voice of a child piped up nearby, waking Charlie from a deep sleep. It was a voice she knew well, the voice of her little brother, Tim.
"Hey, Charlie?"
Next, she felt a finger tapping her shoulder, and her eyes flickered open. She was still facing the wall; she must have fallen asleep after curling up on her side.
"Charlie." Tim raised his voice. "Want to play Dragons and Nazis with me?"
Charlie uncurled and rolled over on her back. "What time is it?" If Tim was home, it had to be at least 3:30 in the afternoon.
"But I thought you wanted to play." Tim scowled. "I thought that's why you put this on my bed." He held out the yellow sticky note that Conscience had left in his room.
That was enough to snap Charlie to full alertness. Sitting up hastily, she snatched the note away from him and crumpled it in her fist. "That's exactly right," she said. "It's part of a game, but now I'm not feeling well enough to play."
Tim's scowl deepened. "But what does 'R.I.P. TIM' mean?"
Charlie thought fast. "It stands for 'Really Important Person.'"
"Cool." Tim held out another sticky note. "So Mom's a really important person, too, then?"
It was the note from Mom's room, and Charlie grabbed it in a hurry. "Absolutely! And she's gonna love this game. But don't say anything till I feel better, okay? Let's keep it a surprise."
Tim sat down hard on the bed beside her. "But you never play role-playing games anymore."
"But I will when I feel better," said Charlie. "Maybe tomorrow, who knows?"
Tim met her gaze with a frown. "You never do anything fun anymore, Charlie."
She couldn't deny he was totally right. All the fun had drained out of her life six weeks ago, and it wasn't coming back anytime soon.
Thinking about it gave her a pang of longing for the days before Conscience, back when she'd lived for RPGs, Bollywood movies, African music, and steampunk. Her life had revolved around these eclectic interests and a handful of geeky outsider friends; together with her family, it had been enough to make her happy.
Now, she did nothing she enjoyed, and she'd alienated all her friends. How could she be happy when every moment of her life was filled with dread? And how could she keep the gloom and doom from casting a shadow on her sweet and innocent ten-year-old brother?
"Well, the fun is on its way back." Charlie grinned and tousled Tim's sandy brown hair. "Just you wait, dude."
"You promise?" Tim looked doubtful.
Charlie nodded emphatically. "Big-time promise."
Tim tipped his head to one side and flashed his best puppy-dog eyes at her. "But not today?"
Charlie leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek. "Trust me. I'm the opposite of fun today."
ChapterFive
When Mom got home, two hours later, Charlie was still in her room in a shell-shocked daze. She couldn't stop obsessing about the events of the day and their implications--the possibilities they'd set in motion.
There wasn't much doubt that she'd moved to the top of Conscience's hit list...unless he was just screwing with her, ramping up her fear to boost his buzz. Even if that was true, and she and her family weren't in imminent danger, one disturbing fact loomed large in her mind: Conscience had been in her house. In her room. He'd been in all their rooms, planting his little notes.
Which meant he could come and go as he pleased. Just thinking about that made her shudder uncontrollably.
And it brought another thought to the surface, blinking in blazing neon: What next? What would Conscience's next move be? And what could Charlie possibly do to counter it?
The same answer kept coming back to her, the same answer she'd been getting for the past six weeks: nothing. She could do nothing.
Maybe it was just as well when Mom stomped down the hall and barged in on her, breaking her hopeless train of thought.
"Charlie!" Mom was livid--face flushed, eyes wide with anger. She'd marched straight to Charlie's room without changing out of the navy blue blazer and skirt and white blouse she'd worn to work that day. "What's this about you running out of school?"
Charlie winced. She'd been through enough without taking heat from Mom...though it wasn't exactly unexpected. "They called you at work?"
"Vice Principal Driscoll texted me." Mom planted her hands on her hips. Strands of jet black hair strayed from her tightly styled hairdo and fluttered around her face. "He said you left sick and never came back."
"I was sick," said Charlie. "I am sick."
"So you go to the nurse, Charlotte. You don't just walk out."
The use of her hated full name went straight to Charlie's last nerve. "I had to get out of there," snapped Charlie. "I told the Vice Principal. He didn't have to make a big production out of it."
"He was worried about you!" Mom flung up her hands and chopped the air with them. "Then I was, too! But by the time he texted me, I was in the middle of an important presentation and couldn't leave. So I was stuck there, and the whole time, I kept wondering if you were alive or dead!"
The same thing I wondered about you and Tim when I raced home in the first place. "You shouldn't have. I'm old enough to take care of myself."
"Maybe so." Mom narrowed her eyes and jabbed a finger at her. "But you can't. As long as you're a sixteen-year-old minor, there are rules you have to follow. Such as, no more cutting school!"
Charlie swung her legs over the side of the bed and shot to her feet. "But I already told you, I left because I was sick." It wasn't fair. If she told Mom the real reason she left school, they wouldn't be having this conversation. Unfortunately, the conversation they would be having would be much more stressful.
Mom stepped forward so their faces were almost touching. "You'll notice I'm not asking how you got home today." She raised one carefully groomed black eyebrow and lowered her voice. "I'm also not asking if anyone else was here with you, Charlotte."
Charlie wanted to lay into her with cannons blazing. Mom had no idea--no idea--what she'd been going through. How dare she throw around accusations like that?
"Nobody was here," hissed Charlie. "Not that it's any of your business."
"No boys in the house if I'm not here," said Mom. "That's a rule, and you know it."
Boys were the last thing on Charlie's mind these days, but Mom's comment still burned her. The life or death of the entire family was on Charlie's shoulders; she didn't deserve not to be trusted.
She tensed. She felt the urge to lash out...but then she realized that the one she really wanted to lash out at wasn't there. Conscience was the bad guy in this picture, not Mom.
So Charlie backed off and sat down on the bed. "Whatever." Though she still didn't give Mom the satisfaction of apologizing up and down.
Mom backed off a little, too. The tone of her voice softened. "At least call me if you need to leave, okay? Just call or text me."
"You won't have time." It was true. After the divorce from Dad a year ago, Mom had become a workaholic. She might not have an important presentation every day, but there was always something. And on top of that, she brought work home with her almost every night.
"I'll figure it out." Frowning, Mom stepped forward and touched Charlie's cheek. "So maybe that's why you haven't been yourself lately, huh? You've been sick."
Charlie shrugged. Not even close.
"Maybe you've got a touch of mono." Mom placed the back of her hand against Charlie's forehead. "We'll make an appointment with Dr. Greer if you don't feel better soon."
It wouldn't do any good, since Charlie was pretty sure Greer didn't have much experience in dealing with anonymous psychopathic murderers. But she nodded anyway.
Mom pulled her hand away. "Why don't you lie down for a little while? Dinner's not for another half-hour or so."
"Thanks." Charlie lay back and rolled over to face the wall.
"I'll knock when it's ready." With that, Mom eased her way out of the room and closed the door gently behind her.
When Charlie heard the latch clack shut, she let out a sigh of relief. Before Conscience, her relationship with her mother had been relatively smooth. They'd gotten closer since Dad left, turning to each other for the extra support they needed to muddle through.
But every interaction was full of strain now, seething with things unsaid. Charlie was pulling away, and not just because of the secrets and distractions that were plaguing her. Not just because Mom seemed to sense that she was hiding something and grew more determined to dig it up.
Charlie, though she was not completely aware of it herself, was distancing herself from Mom, in part, in case she lost her.
ChapterSix
Charlie didn't sleep much anymore. The nights were all about Conscience now.
He liked to text her at all hours--2 A.M., 3 A.M., 4 A.M., and all the times in between. He'd tell her about his latest victim and how she was coming along...how close she was to killing herself. And he'd talk about coming for Charlie someday and how that would be. He'd ask her how she'd like it to be when she died.
Terrified that he'd take drastic action if she didn't read and respond to his texts, Charlie stayed up through the long hours, waiting for the buzz of her phone. She clutched it in her sweating, shaking hands, dreading the next message she would see on the screen. And worrying most of all that there would be no message because he was finally coming for her.
She would sit for hour after hour with the TV and laptop off, listening for threatening sounds that signaled his arrival. Listening for the creak of a door or the tread of a heavy footstep on the stairs. Afraid to leave the house in case Conscience was waiting out there to do his work.
But tonight would be different. Come what may, Charlie needed to get away.
She felt claustrophobic in her room, in the house. When she thought about waiting there all night for Conscience's latest twisted message or move, she had what felt like a panic attack. Her heart pounded, her stomach ached, her breath came in quick, shallow gasps.
Whimpering to herself, she doubled over on the side of the bed, her dark hair hanging over her face. She craved fresh air, longed to escape, even if only for a little while...but how could she? Leaving the house would make Charlie easier to target; it would leave Mom and Tim unprotected.
Then again, would it really make that much difference? Conscience had proven he could come and go as he pleased. He could get to any of them whenever he chose.
And how much could Charlie really do to stop him, anyway? She didn't have a gun or any kind of fighting skills. She kept a big kitchen knife with her in the house at all times, but she could only do so much with that.
When she got right down to it, she realized, it didn't matter much if she was in the house or out of it.
That was why Charlie decided to go for a walk. Six hours after her fight with Mom, five hours after dinner, five minutes after midnight, she stood at the half-open door of Mom's room and listened. The light was on in there, but Charlie could hear the deep, regular breathing that meant Mom was asleep. As for Tim, he'd been asleep for hours and was a notoriously heavy sleeper; as long as Charlie didn't bang pots and pans over his bed, there was no chance that he'd raise the alarm.
Satisfied that she could make a clean getaway, Charlie put on her black hoodie and sneakers and crept out of the house. Locking the door behind her, she set out on foot under a cloudy, dark sky.
Her phone was back on her bed, switched off. For a while, at least, she'd be free from Conscience.
Unless he came and got her, that is.
* * *
Charlie wandered for hours through the streets of Papon Township--the suburb where she lived--and on into the nearest town, Vichyburg. The whole time, she kept her hood down and her hands in her pockets and didn't look up when cars drifted past.
It helped that there wasn't much traffic in Papon Township or Vichyburg on a Monday night. Often, she had the street to herself, as if she were the last girl in all the world.
The cool air and open space cleared her head. Best of all, without the phone in her pocket, she didn't have to worry about Conscience's texts. For the first time in weeks, she was actually able to put him out of her mind...almost. She could actually pretend she was free of him, finally free.
But not for long. Inevitably, she snapped back to reality. Because the hold he had on her was just too strong. As long as he threatened her and her family, he was the ringmaster calling the shots in this circus of fear. Charlie was just one of his victims.
By the time she made it to Main Street in Vichyburg, she could see from City Hall's clock tower that it was almost three in the morning. She wasn't the slightest bit sleepy, though, and she had no desire to go home. She thought she might stay out all night and watch the sun come up, in fact.
What she really wanted to do was keep walking forever. She wished she could walk away from Conscience and never come back.
She'd never wanted anything so much in her life. She could do it, too--just leave and start over somewhere else. No one was physically stopping her. As hard as it would be, at least she'd be free of the monster who was hounding her.
But then what would become of Mom and Tim? Would Conscience kill them just to have his revenge?
In a heartbeat. Charlie didn't have a doubt in her mind that he would do it.
So there she was, walking down the street alone, free to go anywhere...yet unable to leave. He had her right where he wanted her.
Charlie's heart ached as she wished for the millionth time that she could find a way out. A way that would free her from Conscience's trap without putting Mom and Tim in harm's way. If she didn't get out soon, she had a feeling it would be too late.
Then, suddenly, she discovered it was too late already.
* * *
Without warning, three masked attackers grabbed her from behind.
Charlie didn't scream; it wouldn't have done much good on the empty street at three in the morning. Instead, she clenched her teeth and fought back.
She thrashed wildly, straining to break free. She elbowed and kicked, lashing out as hard as she could at whoever had grabbed her. She even managed to land a few solid blows. She heard someone, a woman, cry out, and felt one pair of hands let go.
But the other two attackers held on tight; they simply overpowered her. Twisting around, Charlie got a quick look at them, and understood why.
They were full-grown men. Black ski masks covered their faces, but their frames under the black coveralls they wore were clearly those of adult men.
As much of a fighter as Charlie was, she was only sixteen years old. And she was the opposite of a brute--skinny and kind of gawky, more of a runner than a fighter. She'd rather be reading, watching movies, or playing role-playing games than participating in any kind of sports.
At least, that was how she used to be, back before Conscience started making her life miserable.
Was that who was behind this attack? The thought of it made Charlie fight harder than ever. Wrenching one arm up, she lunged at the man's hand holding on to it and sank her teeth into his black leather glove. Jerking one leg back and up, she drove the heel of her sneaker into the same man's thigh.
If she could just loosen their grip on her a little, she could snap free and run for it. She heaved forward, then bucked left, toward the man she'd bitten and kicked. His grip loosened ever so slightly...
Then, before Charlie could make her next move, the third attacker, the woman, stormed in front of her, carrying something made of black cloth.
It was a hood. Darting in close, the woman raised it with both hands over Charlie's head.
But Charlie wasn't going to let the woman pull it down over her face without a fight. She redoubled her effort, thrashing like a wild animal, keeping her head out from under the hood...at least until one of the men grabbed the back of her neck and held her still.
With a sudden movement, the woman plunged the hood down over Charlie's head, and everything went dark.
Disoriented, Charlie stopped fighting just long enough for them to restrain her arms with some kind of plastic strap that dug into her wrists. Was it a zip tie, maybe?
The next thing she knew, they were lifting her off her feet and hauling her away through the cool October night. She heard car doors open and felt her captors slide her into some kind of vehicle.
Her heart pounded like the heart of a pilot on a crashing plane, jackhammering with pure terror. The whole time, one name loomed in her mind, lit up with blazing red neon in the darkness of the hood: Conscience. Were they delivering her to Conscience?
If they were, this might be her last night alive.
ChapterSeven
As Charlie's abductors hauled her from the vehicle and set her feet down on a paved surface, she felt strangely calm. Maybe it was because there was nothing she could do at that point to escape. Maybe it was just a relief that her struggle would soon be over.
Whatever the reason, she let her captors lead her forward without putting up a fight. They walked her over the paved surface for six steps, then crossed into rough dirt and tall grass. Charlie heard the grass rasping, felt it ripple around her calves and crumple underfoot for another twelve steps.
Then, her captors stopped. One of them held her in place, gripping her upper arms tightly from behind.
Charlie had a sense of something solid looming before her...a building of some kind? She heard a key turn loudly in a lock, a very old lock given the amount of noise it made.
A latch cracked into place, and a door creaked open. Immediately, a thick, musty smell flowed into Charlie's nostrils.
