Page 9 of Shattered In Darkness

I turn, hair in my mouth, my thigh pressed right to the edge of the stranger’s knee. The two men on the couch don’t move, but I sense the heat of their eyes. Hungry. Dead. Like wolves at a kill.

Another pose. Another flash. My body throbs and my teeth grind. I want out of this skin, but it’s glued on.

Done? Not yet. Dean’s voice slices through the haze. “Lean back. Look at him like you mean it.”

I do. Head tipped, eyes empty. I could win an Oscar—if Oscars went to girls who know how to make men believe they could own her.

The man beneath me breathes louder. Dean loves it, he eggs me on. “Last set, Lola. Make it count.”

I stand and bend over. My hands rest on the top cushions of the couch by the man’s head. I arch my back and push my ass out, then my head twists to stare at the camera. Perfect position for full view of my ass, and the side of my tits. They love that.

Perfect whore for the lens and the money. Just a body. Nothing but a shell. But something inside is burning, feral and numb at the same time.

A muffled sound seeps through from the hallway. The music covers it, a static heartbeat thumping under my own. Maybe a thud, maybe a shout. I know enough to pretend it isn’t there.

Dean doesn’t notice, nor do the others. Nothing matters but the show I give them.

But then⁠—

Footsteps. Not creeping, not dragging. Heavy and purposeful. Echoes punch through the wall and straight through my stomach. Brody walks back through the hall, the other man nowhere to be seen. I don’t let the surprise of his reappearance show on my face as I keep moving. He comes to the open doorway, eyes locked on me, and stands there, burning a hole straight through the set.

My breath goes still. Everything rushes up at once. Shame. Fury. This sick, twisted wanting that has no name. Grief, right under my skin. All I want is to curl up and scream. Or maybe rip the camera off the tripod and throw it through a wall.

But I do my job, because that’s what I am. I know my parts.

His eyes flick downwards, towards my tits, and a fierce expression comes over his face. He glances up again, eyes shifting to the man’s neck. Then, back to me.

It all happens so fast. Too fast that I feel dizzy from the shock. He walks away, and leaves me with the hungry predators.

Alone and lost, sinking into the deep end.

There’s nothing sweet left in me. Only the disgusting shame of who I am now.

He knows it now.

3

BRODY

THE PAST (AGED 15)

The darkness follows me everywhere I go. It inhabits my breath like a venomous viper, curling around this heart of mine.

I know I’m not normal. It became obvious when I was a young boy and couldn’t feel the things that other kids felt. It became obvious when all my peers were talking about their crushes, and there wasn’t any girl in the whole town who could catch my eye.

Nothing. A void.

I envy my sister, Sophie. She inherited my mother’s side of the DNA. Normal. Happy. Loved. I am my father’s son. Inside and out. I see very small hints of my mother in my DNA.

A knock interrupts my brooding thoughts. “Honey, can I come in?”

My mother’s voice, soft and hesitant. My own mother. Scared of me. How fucking great. After what happened in our last town, I do not blame her. I would be scared of me if I were her. If I were anybody else.

The sound of their skull cracking still echoes in my mind.

I’m a fucking psycho.

“Yeah?” I sit up and run a hand through my hair, which is already tousled.