Revival

  Revival

  Twisted #2

  Rebecca Sherwin

  Copyright © 2015

  Rebecca R Sherwin

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters, places, events and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Revival

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Twenty Three

  Twenty Four

  Twenty Five

  Twenty Six

  Twenty Seven

  Twenty Eight

  Twenty Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty One

  Thirty Two

  Thirty Three

  Thirty Four

  Thirty Five

  Thirty Six

  Thirty Seven

  Thirty Eight

  Thirty Nine

  Thrive (Twisted #3)

  Acknowledgements

  Contact

  Back Matters

  Revival

  Sometimes life is shit. In fact, it’s always shit. For people like me, at least.

  What hope do you have when you lost everything before you knew what it meant to have it?

  That happened to me at just five years old. It happened again at twenty-five. If that was the pattern, I dreaded what was going to happen when I hit forty-five. Hell, maybe God would finally do me a favour and put me out of my misery before I reached it.

  You know that age-old saying, “life is too short”? Yeah, well, mine was too long. I hadn’t lived a life; I’d been forced to stop over in Hell and they forgot to tell me my flight back to normalcy was ready for take-off.

  They could have told me my plane was delayed because I was being upgraded to first class. Maybe if they had, I would have done something to earn it. I really wanted to deserve it.

  But I was that poor, unfortunate soul. I was that five-year-old boy stuck in the past, punishing the world for the life I lived.

  My story? Yeah, why not?

  This is me…Cut Throat Curtis.

  Chapter One

  Donatello would protect me. And Raphael. And Leonardo. And Mikey…I didn’t have my mummy and daddy. I only had my toys.

  July 17th, 1983

  “Curtis?”

  The lady next door called my name and bent down. She wasn’t so scary when she did that. Her mouth was full of teeth and she smelled like her cat, Percy. That made me sneeze – achoo!

  She said she was my friend. Friends didn’t make friends jam on toast when they liked porridge, but never mind. She was good at jigsaws and Mummy would be home soon to make my breakfast.

  “Curtis?” Someone knocked on the door as she spoke to me. “Your auntie Lois is here.”

  She picked me up and carried me to the door. I loved Auntie Lois. She had hair like Daphne from Scooby-Doo.

  “Hi, Curtis.”

  I threw my arms around her when she took me from the lady next door.

  I loved Auntie Lois. She always smelled like cherries, like those cakes with the white icing and the cherry on top.

  “Let’s have a chat.”

  She placed me on the sofa with my turtles and sat on the floor. Splinter was missing but that was okay. He was in my seat in Mummy and Daddy’s car. Auntie Lois breathed funny. She kind of squeaked like a mouse and rubbed her eyes.

  “Remember when we play with your cars, Buddy?” I nodded and itched my nose. ThunderCats was on TV. “The ones with the batteries?”

  I nodded again. Go ThunderCats!

  “Remember sometimes they break?”

  I nodded again. Scooby-Doo was coming on next.

  “Well, that happened to Mummy and Daddy’s car last night.”

  “Did it?”

  “Yeah, Buddy, it did.”

  “Why?”

  “I think the batteries ran out. You know, like with your toy cars.”

  “Okay.”

  I got up but Auntie Lois pulled me onto her lap.

  “They have to go and stay with the angels for a while. Would you like to come and stay with me while the angels look after Mummy and Daddy?”

  “Okay.” I lifted my shoulders. I liked Auntie Lois’s house. Uncle Phil had built a tree house.

  “Okay.” She stood up and held my hand like Mummy did when we crossed the road. “Let’s go and pack some things.”

  I liked sleepovers at Auntie Lois’s house, but her dog, Teddy, always tried to eat my toys.

  “Can we get Splinter?” I asked as we got in the car. “He can protect us from Teddy.”

  “Sure. Is he in your toy box?”

  “He’s in Daddy’s car. He went for a ride to the carwash with me yesterday.”

  Auntie Lois coughed. I think she was crying. Maybe she was scared of carwashes. I was, too. That’s why Splinter went with Daddy and me. To keep us safe.

  “How about I pretend to be Splinter today?”

  “Okay.”

  I loved Auntie Lois.

  Chapter Two

  I loved “your mamma” jokes. I loved the looks on their faces when they said, “Your mamma”, and I interrupted with, “yeah, she’s dead”.

  April 22nd, 1993

  I liked to be angry. Who likes to be angry, right? Yeah, I know, but I did.

  “Hey Curtis? Did your mummy not braid your hair this morning?”

  Logan was a dick. Lois would have slapped the back of my head if she caught me cursing, but she could suck it. She wasn’t my mother.

  “I guess not. Did yours shave your pubes? Oh, I forgot. Sorry, mate.”

  I might have had long, scraggly hair because Lois thought it was cool – she was in a hippie phase, Christ knew why – but I’d seen Logan’s bald little wiener in the showers and that was way funnier.

  The other boys laughed. My tongue was as sharp as the blade Billy Williams got kicked out of school for carrying last week.

  “Don’t you think you should cut it? I mean, your dead mum did give birth to a boy, didn’t she?”

  Psycho Switch: Engage.

  I laughed. A sociopathic laugh, loud, low and hollow. They hated it when I did that because they knew it was coming. The explosion.

  “Say that again,” I laughed. “My hair was blocking my ears.”

  “Sorry, Rapunzel,” he was an idiot for continuing. He should have known. He should have at least realised that the others had stepped away. “Does she plait your pubes, too?”

  The punch almost knocked him out. It dazed him enough to floor him and I could have sworn I saw stars in his eyes. I thought it was hilarious, the “did you really just do that?” look on his embarrassed, hairless face. Again, why was he surprised? I let him stand up and offered him my jaw with a gentle tap of my index finger. I only laughed harder when he struck me and I felt the ins
tant swell. We scrapped as fists flew and we fell to the floor in a tangle.

  “Oi!”

  I heard Mr White shouting but I couldn’t care less; I was seeing red. The laughter had subsided and only the rage remained. Did I care? No. Did I plan to stop? Hell no.

  Eventually the cavalry of lunch break supervision arrived and we were pried apart. I stood heaving for breath as blood trickled from my nose. I didn’t care. It looked like I’d broken Logan’s face.

  ***

  “This has to stop.”

  It was the first thing Lois had said since she collected me from school. I’d been suspended for another week…at least they let me keep the icepacks.

  My left eye was swollen shut and the left side of my jaw was already a deep shade of purple.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled.

  “I’m serious, Curtis. I can't take any more.”

  “Kick me out, then.”

  Seriously, I didn’t care. I liked Lois. Uncle Phil was a douchebag. He was always checking up on me, screwing his face up whenever I spoke and I’d heard him talking to Lois late at night when they thought I was asleep – he didn’t want me around. And he thought, at fifteen, I still wanted to sit in a tree house that leaked when it rained and I could barely fit in it. I think I led him to believe it. I used to sneak up there with the Playboy magazine I’d stolen from the stash he failed to hide. But I did like Lois. She had always been cool; like the hip aunt everyone had a secret crush on. I just didn’t want to listen to her bullshit. She smacked me on the back of the head – I must have said that out loud.

  “I’m not kicking you out,” she sighed. “But I am taking you somewhere.”

  She pointed to the back seat where two duffel bags laid. Great.

  I slapped the icepacks back on my face and leaned back. Whatever.

  “Out you get.”

  She stopped the car and I looked up out of my one functioning eye.

  “Geoff’s Gym?” I read off the rickety sign that was hanging off the front of the building. It was missing half a ‘G’. “What the fuck?”

  She slapped the side of my head this time.

  “Ow! I didn’t get enough of a beating earlier?”

  She smiled my way and flexed her fingers. I guess I loved her for that. She could be a cold, hard bitch but she was still the woman who fought in my corner – ow! – another smack. I had to stop talking aloud.

  “Get out.”

  She climbed out of the car and walked towards the gym. I grabbed my bags and hauled my confused ass behind her. The doors of the gym were locked and when I peered through the glass, I saw a short, beer-bellied guy waddling our way. He unlocked the door and poked his bald little peanut head out. He greeted Lois warmly and turned to me.

  “Ah, Curtis. In you come.”

  We followed him in and he plucked my ten-ton bags from me like I was carrying feathers.

  “Welcome to the gym, boy.”

  I looked around. It was ugly, with concrete walls and flickering lights. A dirty ring with loose ropes that had definitely seen better days sat in the middle and it smelled; like if I left my sweaty gym bag under my bed for a week with the unwashed kit still in it.

  “It reeks,” I turned my nose up as I walked behind a whispering Lois and Geoff, I assumed. He stopped and turned, and I almost collided with a belly of beer.

  “It smells like hard work, determination and control.”

  He continued walking and I sniggered.

  “Smells like someone needs a shower.”

  We followed him upstairs and I wondered if I was being led into a child trafficking lair. I laughed pitifully to myself; no one in their right mind would want me.

  “This is it.”

  He dropped my bags to the floor as we stepped into a little flat and he raised his arms in pride.

  “This is what?”

  Lois turned to me and put her small hands on my shoulders.

  “You want your independence, I get it,” she said. “You want to be an adult. But adults don’t swan around breaking the rules without dealing with the consequences. Curtis, you can't keep fighting because you’re mad at the world. I’ve done everything I can for you, but now I need help. This is where you will live and learn. You’re welcome home whenever you want. It will always be your home. But this is where you will become a man.”

  That was emotional. I kind of just stared blankly at her.

  “Do you understand?”

  I shrugged, “Sure.”

  I didn’t, not really. She could have gotten me a shrink or something, although, on second thoughts, I had so much baggage in my mind, I would have probably used up the entire NHS psycho budget.

  “Remember.” She pulled me in for a hug that I managed to half reciprocate. “Come home whenever you want. We’re not cutting you off.”

  “Got it.”

  I patted her back and she let me go. She thanked Geoff and left the flat with a sad look back in my direction, although she didn’t make eye contact.

  “She’s doing the right thing,” Geoff said, drawing my attention to him as he moved to the kitchen area and switched on the kettle. “I’ve had kids walk in here as boys and leave as men.”

  He turned to me and leaned his chubby ass against the counter.

  “This place is yours. You will go to school every day; I will check. And you clean the gym floor. You keep this place tidy and you respect this building without question. Do that, and you can stay.”

  The kettle clicked off and filled the kitchen with steam, but he approached me and stood just in front of me.

  “I’m going to help you with the pain, Curtis. I’m going to teach you how to turn it into power…I’m going to train you to be a great man.”

  Chapter Three

  Just be patient. Patient and good. Be patient, be good, and you’ll be okay…

  January 20th, 1995

  The bell rang and I stood up from where I was slumped in my seat, as I shoved my books in my bag.

  Mr White had insisted I sit at the front for all my classes, which pissed me off. I wanted to hide at the back and doodle in my notepad. Kids at the front always got picked on to answer questions and the last thing I wanted was attention.

  “Curtis?” Miss Harper called as I walked past her desk on my way out.

  “Yes, Miss?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about your test paper,” she smiled. One of the kids bumped my shoulder as they walked past and I clenched my jaw. “Have you got a minute?”

  “Sure.” I grunted, threw my backpack on the desk and rolled my eyes. Geoff wasn’t going to be happy. I was going to be late and have to hand him a letter explaining I’d failed another test.

  I watched as Miss Harper rummaged in her briefcase. My eyes fell on her ample bosom. What? I was seventeen, almost-always horny and she was hot. Not that she knew it; she was sweet and modest.

  “How badly did I fail this time?”

  I had to look away as her arms stretched out, squeezing her boobs into a mind-numbing cleavage. I grabbed my bag and hugged it over my crotch.

  “You didn’t fail, sweetie.” She smiled at me as she pulled out my answer sheet and laid it on the desk.

  There was a big red ‘B’ in one top corner and a little smiley face.

  “I got a B?”

  I was shocked, but she’d gotten over hers. She was looking at me like I was a kid who had just learned to tie his shoe laces.

  “You did.”

  “I didn’t even study.”

  She shook her head, blonde curls bouncing against her rosy cheeks, “Don’t tell me that, Curtis.”

  “Sorry. I just thought I was going to fail.”

  English wasn’t my strength. School wasn’t good to me and never had been, but English was the worst. I didn’t care about where words came from and why writers used certain ones.

  “Well, you didn’t. Be proud.” She handed me the paper and I stared at the ‘B’, expecting it to morph into the usual ‘F’. “I knew you
could do it. Take it home and show Geoff.”

  “Thanks.”

  I shoved it in my bag and wrestled my headphones out. All of my teachers knew about Geoff. Everyone at school did. He and Lois had dragged me to school to talk to Mr White about our ‘arrangement’. I got special allowances and I hated it. Other boys who fought got a bad reputation, but I got pity and free cakes when I queued up for lunch. The other kids hated me. I hated me. I was the special kid who couldn’t get through school like everyone else. I. Really. Fucking. Hated it.

  “Good job,” Miss Harper said, dismissing me.

  “See you tomorrow, Miss.”

  I set my headphones on my head and left the classroom.

  Music allowed me to be free.

  Music allowed me to ignore the other kids walking home in their cliques while I walked to the gym alone. I didn’t have any friends; I didn’t want them. I never knew if people were being nice because I was the special kid with no parents, or because they were afraid I would knock them out if they weren’t. I didn’t need drama, I just needed to get back to the gym and clean before Geoff noticed how late I was.

  I got to the car park and saw some of the fighters’ cars. I couldn’t wait to watch them train while I swept the floor. I couldn’t wait to finally train with them. Geoff said I wasn’t ready yet; I just had to hold on and stay out of trouble so he could see I was. I wouldn’t admit it, but I was excited to tell him about Miss Harper’s test. I was trying to be good – patient and good – and it was finally beginning to pay off.

  I was pulled backwards when someone yanked the strap of my backpack. My headphones fell around my neck and I heard the muffled sound of electric guitars as I turned to see what had happened.

  It was one of the older boys. I didn’t know his name but I’d seen him around school picking on the vulnerable kids. I guess he thought I was vulnerable, too.

  “What’s your problem?” I barked.

  He didn’t say anything; he just grinned, with fire in his eyes, and it distracted me from his fist.

  I was alone when I opened my eyes, rolled over onto my hands and knees, and spat out the blood. I lifted my fingers to my mouth; my tooth had gone through my lip and it hurt enough to bring tears to my eyes. I wasn’t going to be able to hide it. What was that about?