Entangled Chaos
ENTANGLED CHAOS
C.M. RADCLIFF
Copyright © 2019 C.M. RADCLIFF
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, places, brands, media and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author, except for the use of quotations in a book review.
Due to the graphic nature of this novel, it is not intended for anyone under the age of eighteen.
Cover Design: Cali Radcliff
Editor: Ellie McLove of My Brother’s Editor
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Entangled Chaos
Kai | Prologue
PART ONE
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
PART TWO
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
Kai
Dahlia
-Coming Soon- | Entangled Possession
Acknowledgments
Books by C.M. Radcliff
About the Author
Connect with the Author
“Fate whispers to the warrior ‘You cannot withstand the storm’ and the warrior whispers back ‘I am the storm’.
Kai
Prologue
SOFT POWDERY WHITE snow crunches underneath the weight of my boots while I scurry across the backyard through the storm and into the barn. The wooden door is heavy and the buckets in my hands are filled to the top, weighing my arms down. It takes most of my strength to push it open without dropping the buckets. The pungent smell of feces and urine burns my nose as I walk into the barn, filled with loud squeals and grunting. Walking over to the fence, I place the buckets on the ground and lean against the railing, looking down to the large pen below.
Beaded hungry eyes stare up at me as the squealing gets louder. The pigs start to grunt and make atrocious sounds as they start to bump into one another, they all know what I’m here for. They can smell the flesh and bone, the fat and blood seeping from the buckets. It’s time for me to do my job and take out the trash and it’s time for the pigs to eat.
I’ve been here for a few years now and over time, I’ve learned how to play by the rules. Playing by the rules means you get more freedom and more freedom means you might escape from here. But that’s if you get lucky.
I look down at the bucket.
So far, no one has been that lucky.
If we’re good, we get different chores. My main chore is disposal. Grabbing one of the buckets, I pop the lid off and begin dumping it down into the pen below. The pigs go wild, running into each other, all trying to get a piece of meat. Little hands and feet mixed with cut up limbs and raw flesh all fall from the bucket. Setting down the first one, I pick up the next and repeat. Body parts of the unlucky ones fall to the ground where the pigs feast.
They tried to escape, and they didn’t make it.
They were all used up or never reached their potential.
The men here, human life has no value to them. Children were not the future. Children were to be used and destroyed for their own pleasure. Chopping them up into a hundred little pieces was just an added perk to the fucked-up game they were playing here.
Grabbing the buckets, I pop the lids back on and watch as the pigs devour the bodies. The way they fight against one another, the alphas making their way to get what they wanted, however they needed to. They weren’t weak like humans. They didn’t give a fuck about anyone else but themselves.
There was no place for feelings or humanity here.
Over time, I’ve grown cold and indifferent.
At only seventeen, I’d given up on living.
I’d given up on my life and had no concern for anyone else’s.
A few moments pass of watching the pigs before I swiftly leave the barn and trudge through the snow back to the cellar of the house. The buckets are scrubbed clean with bleach, washing away any traces of the dead. After putting everything away, I brush off any remaining snow and make my way up toward the door to go upstairs. As I reach for the doorknob, two small hands grab ahold of my arm as someone rushes into me.
Shaking the warm hands off of me, I look down at the intruder. Bright green teary eyes filled with fear stare back at me.
“Please help me,” she whispers, choking on her words as her chin quivers.
I had no concern for anyone else’s life until that moment.
She would quickly become everything to me.
Those bright green eyes would destroy us both.
Narrowing my eyes, I slowly take her in. Honey tinged curls twisted in knots, fall below the middle of her back. She’s tiny, with an awkward frame and barely any meat on her bones.
The pigs wouldn’t care for her too much.
She’s young, younger than me, still untouched with an unspoken innocence. They would break her down, little by little until she’s nothing but a shell of a person.
She bites on her plump bottom lip in an effort to keep it still and shield any signs of weakness. A small hiccup escapes her as tears start to fall from her eyes.
They would crush her long before she’d ever get to bloom and set her beauty free.
She was no one to me and suddenly she was everything to me.
“Okay,” I whisper, securely sealing and binding our fate together with one little word.
PART ONE
Dahlia
I WAKE UP WITH A JUMP and a throbbing deep inside my head. My joints are stiff and resistant as I struggle to sit up in bed. My eyes widen as the room turns upright and my surroundings come into focus. Panic roots itself deeply in the pit of my stomach.
This isn’t my bedroom.
It’s tasteful and elegant, a room fit for royalty, for a princess. It reminds me of what Cinderella’s room might look like after she went to live with Prince Charming. I’m in awe as my eyes scan the large decorative furniture, the luxurious drapes covering the windows and the enormous bed I’m sitting on.
Scooting toward the edge of the bed, I lightly bounce up and down on the plush mattress, feeling the heavy down comforter against my thin legs. Inching my toes to the floor, I dig them into the thick, soft white rug beneath me. It’s so soft, like the fur stripped from the body of a mink.
Everything around me simply provides a distraction and it eases the panic bubbling just beneath the surface for a fleeting moment.
A loud bang sounds from somewhere beyond this room. My eyes dart to the door farthest from the windows as it must lead elsewhere. My body grows rigid and I feel my chest grow tight as I choke on a breath. The panic is back and I’m on high alert, like a deer in the wild.
A short series of sporadic thumps follow the first sound, all coming from the other side of that door. Sitting as still as hu
manly possible, I hold my breath, remaining completely silent. I don’t know what’s out there and I don’t want it knowing what’s in here.
Wherever here is.
I wait, unmoving, straining my ears against the silence, listening for someone or something, but there is nothing.
Slowly letting out the breath I was holding, my body relaxes a fraction as a wave of relief passes through me. My mind must be playing tricks on me and toying with my senses.
Wrong.
Like a Mack truck plowing into a brick wall, something hits my door with such force, it groans from the blow. The sudden sound alone has me jumping halfway out of my skin.
“HELP!” a shrill voice shrieks on the other side of the door. Instantly, I drop to the floor, quietly shimmying under the vast bed on my stomach.
“You gotta let me in!” the voice cries out again, pounding on the door. Listening carefully, I can hear the voice clearer as they whisper through the crack. “Please,” the young girl begs, slowly trailing off.
Inching across the soft rug, I scoot closer to the door, straining to hear her. Getting settled near the door, I open my mouth to talk when I hear her inhale sharply.
“No,” she chokes out a sob. “No, no, no, no...” she begins to chant, each word growing louder with every sob, every plea.
It happens so fast; I can’t decipher or separate the different noises that meet my ears at once. She’s screaming, random scratches or thumping sounds land on the door as a deep voice mutters indistinguishable words to her.
I’m frozen.
I need to help her.
I’m moving and reacting before the logical part of my brain tells me to stand down, to not get involved. Climbing out from under the bed, I’m steady on my feet as I pull open the bedroom door without a second thought and throw myself out into the hallway.
The hallway is long, dark and dirty. Dark red paint on the walls are stained and chipping away. Wooden floorboards run the length of the hallway, covered in dirt and dust. Pausing for a second, I glance back at the room I was in, noting the strangeness in its appearance.
A tall man carries the screaming girl over his shoulder at the far end of the hall. I’m lost, I’m confused and I’m terrified.
The room is right there, just go back in and shut the door.
Clasping my hands together in front of me, I swallow hard, swallowing back the tears and the fear. Going back in that room isn’t an option anymore. Moving my feet, I start to walk toward them when the man stops at the top of the stairs.
He turns his head and his cold grey eyes meet mine with a smile that is far from warm and welcoming. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up, princess.” He winks.
Who’s been waiting?
The coldness in his tone sends shivers through my body, leaving me frozen in my place. “Put her down.” My voice shakes as I demand him, pointing an unsteady finger at him sternly.
Shaking his head, he clicks his tongue at me. “Sorry, princess, but I don’t take orders from you. So, why don’t you go back to your room, put on one of your fancy dresses that Mr. Marino loves and wait there like a good little girl and someone will come get you soon?”
My eyes grow wider with every word that flows from his crooked mouth.
My room. My fancy dresses.
Mr. Marino.
I wrack my brain for a memory, one of any shape or kind to help me piece together what this alternate universe is that I seem to be caught in.
Nothing. Everything is blank.
I have no idea how I ended up here.
“Well?” the man insists as he readjusts the small girl in his arms. Her dark brown eyes widen as they meet mine over his shoulder. “Don’t be like Olivia here.”
“RUN!” Olivia screams at me, wriggling an arm free and points behind me. The man grunts, struggling with her in his arms as she thrashes around.
Turning around, I see the second set of stairs she was pointing at and make a mad dash for them without a second glance in Olivia’s direction. I should be more discreet, quieter, stealthier, but my thoughts are a jumbled mess. My flight response has kicked in and I need to get out of here as quickly as possible.
Within the blink of an eye, I’m at the bottom of the stairs, walking into what appears to be a pantry. It’s larger than your typical pantry, but the room is small with two doors and with walls lined with shelves of different boxed and canned foods.
There are two doors in this room and one of them will lead me to safety.
Standing at the bottom of the stairs, I hear more movement and voices coming from somewhere upstairs. Glancing back and forth between the two doors, I can’t be certain where either one will take me. I’m at a crossroads.
The sounds are getting louder, they’re growing closer and soon, they’ll find me down here.
Glancing back and forth between the two doors, my juvenile mind uses one of the few problem-solving techniques that I have learned in my fifteen short years of life. A quick game of “eeny meeny, miny moe,” has me running blindly through the door to my right, straight into a pit of darkness.
Kai
STEPPING OUTSIDE, A gust of frigid air rushes across my face, blowing the hood of my coat off my head. A dusting of snow lands on my hair as I put my head down, clutching the bucket handles in my hands and walk faster toward the cellar.
The sound isn’t loud, but it’s distinct. As I reach the cellar door, I turn around, seeing the large gate shut behind my father’s car. Treading lightly down the snow, he starts down the long drive away as I let myself inside to finish my job.
When I was a little boy, I thought the sun shone out of my father’s ass and put him on the highest pedestal. He oozes power and elegance and captivates everyone with his charisma. I idolized the fuck out of him, and I wanted to be him so badly that I was willing to do anything and everything he wanted.
I was ten years old when my mother committed suicide, leaving my father and me behind. It wasn’t long after that he invited me to go on a business trip with him. He was gone a lot for work, so I jumped on any opportunity I had to be with him and with my mother gone, I needed him.
My father owns a hedge fund, so I went along with him expecting some Wall Street shit. When he drove me upstate New York into the middle of nowhere instead of into the city, I knew we weren’t on a business trip anymore, not for the business that I thought it was for.
I was ten years old when he brought me to his farm. He owns the hundred and fifty-acre property with two investors from his hedge fund and they raise pigs.
I was ten years old when I saw my father for the repulsive monster that he hides from the real world. I saw the vile sinister man sitting in the director’s chair, exercising his control as he barked orders at his crew and the stars of his films. He watched me from that chair as I was forced to lose my virginity to a young girl that was held captive here too.
It wasn’t long after I came here that the curtain was lifted, and the truth was unveiled. The pig farm is just a front for their illegal business and the pigs simply serve as a garbage disposal.
After being here for seven years now, I’m the designated one who gets to take out the trash. When the kids are thoroughly used and broken past the point of repair, they no longer serve a purpose to my father and his men. Once their bodies are hacked into chunks of flesh and bone, it’s time for me to take out the trash.
Everyone here has an expiration date and the pigs will always need to eat.
Dahlia
STUMBLING DOWN ANOTHER flight of stairs, I find myself in a dark, cold, dusty cellar. A faint hint of light shines through a small window, clouded with dirt and an eerie silence hangs in the musty air as I tiptoe through the dim room.
The cellar is lined with shelves holding various tools and reminds me more of our shed in our back yard than a basement. The space is larger than I expected and it’s like a maze with everything crowding the area.
I navigate my way through the rows of shelves and different wal
ls before spotting a large wooden door. It’s not a far distance and if I run, I’ll be out of here in a matter of seconds.
Peering around the corner, I take a deep breath, ready to make a run for it when the door moves as the handle begins to jiggle. I quickly duck back down behind the shelves as the door is pushed open.
Just like that, every ounce of hope I had is gone within the blink of an eye.
Crouching down, I listen as my newest obstacle runs water and I can make out the scrubbing of a brush. They work in silence, only making their presence known from the sounds of water sloshing around.
Taking my chances, I slowly inch back to the edge and sneak a glance at my intruder with one eye. His back is to me and all I can clearly make out is a wavy mess of chocolate-colored hair. I need to see his face to know more, but more importantly, I need him to leave.
He abruptly shuts off the faucet and drops the buckets onto the ground. The loud sound startles me and a small gasp slips from my lips as I jump. Clamping my hand over my mouth, I quickly move out of sight, silently praying he didn’t hear me.
Please, just go...
I wait for him to come over, to find him looming over me, but he doesn’t and continues to make noise from across the room. Curiosity has its hands on my back, ready to shove me down a dark tunnel.
Don’t look.
I need to get a better look at him and see who I could be dealing with here.
He fits in here, he’s a danger.
Ignoring the logical part of my brain, I peer back around at him.
My parents never did care for my insatiable curiosity and my draw to danger.
He’s turned, facing in my direction, but if he knows I’m here, he doesn’t show it. His young face is contorted, sporting a scowl as he stacks buckets. He’s tall and lanky, but he doesn’t appear to be much older than I am.
I watch him with piqued curiosity as he finishes cleaning up and organizing the shelves by the sink. He’s methodical in his movements, like a puppet on a string. Everything he touches has a specific place for where it belongs and by the time he’s finished, you would never know that anyone was ever there.