"That is your problem right there. You think things are either black or white. Good or Bad. Light or dark. So let me share a little secret with you. There is no black and white, only gray. You can be evil with the best intentions, and if you don't let me help you, you will be."
"What is happening to me?"
Aileron's dark blue eyes stared into Gavyn's, scrutinizing him, judging him. Something told Gavyn Aileron knew much more than he led on, but he wasn't sharing. The real question was why he wasn't.
"Answers must be earned. Just know that I can help you."
"You may be able to help me, but how do I know I can trust you?"
"You don't. But honestly, what choice do you have?"
"There's always a choice."
"Yes there is. And right now the choices are live, or die. So choose." Aileron growled standing chest to chest with Gavyn staring him down. "My time is precious and my pizza's getting cold."
After recovering from a motorcycle accident that nearly kills him, 18-year-old Gavyn Fraser is eager to gather the pieces of his broken life and resume some level normalcy. But, unfortunately normal is not in the cards for Gavyn and as the mysteries behind his accident begin to unravel, he finds himself being sucked into a world unlike any he ever imagined.
InnerWorld will be told in three parts:
Part I: Dusk
Part II: Night
Part III: Dawn Show Less
“Your Inner World is a place of secrets, dreams, hopes, aspirations, fantasies, and plans- of longing, anger, love, hope, ambition, and yearning for happiness. This place is both sanctuary and place of turmoil. It is where vitality withers or flourishes because here we create our deepest identity through our desires.” -Activating Your Thunder
Chapter 1: Reckless
Screams echoed down the dark hallway rattling windows, sending shivers into every crack and crevice. Blood burned under his skin and the hairs on his arms felt like they were charged with electricity. His head pounded and his ears buzzed, drowning out the sounds of the other voice in the room.
“Gavyn Fraser! You’d better learn to control in that temper of yours before I rain down a storm that would take down the plains of heaven and hell itself!”
His father’s thick voice boomed down the hall, its baritone threatening to suffocate the life out of the body of everyone on the block. My father. He could barely stand thinking about the title forced on Lionel Fraser. More like an incessant lingering nuisance, invading my home like a plague.
Gavyn loathed his father. Just the sight of him in Gavyn’s room, his features so eerily mimicking his own, boiled his blood. Light brown wavy disheveled hair, beads of sweat trailing down deep arched brows and into his light brown eyes; the likeness was sickening.
At this moment his father’s green and purple veins protruded out of his swollen neck and Gavyn could almost hear the blood rushing in his veins. He knew he should be scared, but there was no room for fear amongst the hate.
“I’m already in hell! What else can you possibly do?” Gavyn bellowed back. “Get out of my room!” He grabbed onto the back of his desk chair and launched it across the room breaking the closet door off the hinges.
“What is going on?” Footsteps bounded down the hall as Gavyn’s mother rushed into the room. Her auburn hair was tied in a messy curly ponytail at the top of her head, her baggy gray sweatpants and a green “Grumpy” dwarf t-shirt hung loosely on her small frame. “Gavyn! Calm down!”
“Me? What the hell mom! Tell him something!” Gavyn voice cracked as he jabbed a finger toward his father.
“That’s it! Today you learn some respect once and for all! Tamara, this kid is pushing me beyond my limits!”
“Gavyn, show your father some respect and calm down!”
“He may be my father but he hasn’t earned my respect!”
“Gavyn! Stop it!” His mother pleaded standing between the two Frasers. “What’s gotten in to you?”
Gavyn’s mother stared at him through droopy blood shot eyes. The dark, sunken circles wrapped around them making her look drained, haggard and old despite her young age.
Normally, Gavyn had nothing but compassion for his mother. She suffered because of the choices she made for her life, choices that mainly revolved around Lionel. But with enough time, it only managed to fuel Gavyn’s resentment of his father and at this moment, Gavyn couldn’t find any compassion to give.
“In to me? You stand there in front of him and ask what’s gotten into me! How can you ignore his crap mom?” His tone was harsh, but he didn’t care. “We don’t need this slutbag around!”
“Gavyn!” His mother yelled, as his father bounded for him.
“You spoiled, ungrateful little –“ Lionel struggled to restrain his words. “You think you’re grown? You think you’re a man? You want to call the shots? Get over here so I can show you how men handle things.”
Lionel shoved Tamara out of his way and latched onto the sleeve of Gavyn’s shirt. The fabric stretched and ripped giving him a brief second to charge down the stairs away from his father.
Gavyn could hear the struggling and yelling upstairs as he hurried into the kitchen, but he couldn’t make out any words over the pounding in his head.
His father wasn’t directly behind him, which meant his mother must have slowed him down. His body was trembling with the need to take action. He stood for a second looking around the room. Lionel’s worn out brown leather bomber jacket was slung over the back of one of the rickety mismatched dinner chairs.
A million thoughts cluttered his mind as he stared blankly at the table, making a decision he didn’t even know he was contemplating.
In the moment he heard an upstairs door slam, Gavyn picked up his fathers coat, searched frantically through the pockets, pulling out a bunch of silver keys. He tossed the jacket to the ground and snatched a pair of heavy shades sitting on the table.
As footsteps beat down the stairs, he threw his blue New York Giants jacket on and tore out of the house. The dried leaves crunched under his feet as he circled around and the smell of the autumn air failed to clear his mind.
He stopped in front of the garage pulling a black canvas cover from a sleek and shiny dark blue motorcycle, his fathers pride and joy.
Gavyn flung his leg over the top and slid the shades onto his face. He grabbed the black helmet from around the handlebars, clicking it around his chin and slid the key into the ignition.
The purr of the motor was followed by a loud bellow echoing from the kitchen window. Gavyn revved the engine and looked around in time to catch his father sprinting around the corner. A wicked smile spread from ear to ear as he flipped off his father and sped off into the cool afternoon.
The chilly air stung Gavyn’s cheeks, but he barely felt it as he watched colorful autumn trees blur by in a kaleidoscope of colors. He loved the speed as much as he loved the freedom. It helped him think.
Gavyn attempted to sort through the chaos that spun in his head. His father was a bastard. That much he knew. But things weren’t always bad. In fact they had been downright pleasant for a long time.
He wasn’t exactly sure when the change happened, but it was as if when he was going through puberty, so did his dad. He remembered being about fourteen when his father had had gone from patient and understanding to rude, curt and short fused. Anything and everything Gavyn and his mother did would set him off and he would charge off in a rage on his bike.
It hadn’t always been this way. Gavyn remembered a time his father would come home from work and take him on short trips around the quiet suburban New Jersey neighborhood. He never went fast enough to put Gavyn in any danger and never rounded any sharp turns. Gavyn loved those moments with the dad that used to be, taking on the world one mile at a time.
Then his dad started to refuse to take him out on the bike. No matter how many times he asked, no matter how much he pleaded, no matter how early in the day it was, his father claimed he just didn’t have time anymore. Gavyn had thought his mother had something to do with the abrupt stop to the motorcycle trips, but something told him she would never do that.
A few months ago, his dad invested in the sleek new BMW motorcycle that Gavyn was forbidden to go near. So he did the only thing he could do when he needed his speed fix: he took the bike out on his own before his dad got home. After all, if his father could disappear for hours at a time, Gavyn could have his bout of rebellion as well.
The thought of his father’s empty dinner chair fueled a more aggressive burst of speed from him as he raged down the deserted tree lined streets. Lionel Fraser would come home after work, sometimes say “Hi” to Gavyn, and swap his 2000 Toyota Corolla keys for motorcycle ones and ride off. By the time he came home, dinner wares were in the dishwasher and Gavyn was long tucked away for the night.
Anger flared in the pit of his stomach as he thought of everything his mother had to put up with and Gavyn hit the speed a little more. His mother was the one constant in his life when his father flew off in his tirades. She never stopped being mom in spite of dad’s ease at stopping at being a dad.
Gavyn could feel the power from the motorcycle coursing under him and the rush helped to curb his fury. The faster he went, the more he felt he could deal. He was being reckless, but he felt invincible.
The helmet shifted a little on his head as he slanted the bike toward the right around a turn. He only just realized he hadn’t sufficiently tightened the strap around his chin before speeding off.
The thought of his dramatic exit on his fathers BMW 1200 GS Adventure gave Gavyn a great sense of satisfaction. Maybe he’d dare to get a scratch or nick on the bodywork. He knew he’d pay dearly for it, but he was going to pay anyway, might as well make it worth it.
Maneuvering the bike around a tight corner, he felt it slip just a little; at sixteen, his control was good, but not tight. His counter-steering needed more help but he was sure he’d be more than apt once he was riding his own bike. A quick glance at the speedometer showed that he was going about 90 mph after recovering from the turn.
Deciding carelessness could not be a good idea; he started to slow down as he approached the Outerbridge Crossing. He hadn’t even realized he had ridden so far.
The road was surprisingly empty considering the busy bridge; it should be bustling with trucks and school buses at this time. Where was everyone? Slowing down a little more, Gavyn reached up to the strap around his chin with one hand. He fumbled with the cord knowing he had to be as quick as possible in order to return his full attention to the handlebars. He had just about pulled the end tightly around his chin when an obscure shadow darkened his path.
Pulling the bike over to the side, Gavyn searched the skies and the trees, but there was nothing and that in itself, was a problem. There were no birds, no traffic, no leaves rustling, no movement, no nothing. Only silence. Gavyn’s heart quickened, and his body already coursing with adrenaline, started shivering. Something was not right.
He stood, frozen in place amidst the numbing stillness when out of the darkness burst a white light with such intensity it blinded Gavyn for a minute making him stumble to the cold ground.
Still trying to blink the blindness from his eyes, Gavyn could just make out a large monstrous shadow in front of him. The shadow spread out building in the sky like a storm cloud. Fear and flight melted his stiff muscles and new energy pulsed through his veins. He pulled himself up and jumped onto the bike revving the engine as he swung the bike around and away from the shadow.
He tore away as fast as he could, rearing around sharp turns with the fierceness of prey running from a predator. His only objective was to get away from whatever it was that was behind him. He could barely make out another turn up ahead as his breathing became heavy and struggled. The silence was suffocating him.
Frantic and with his heart pounding, Gavyn dared to accelerate a little more as he tore around another corner. The bike slanted dangerously to the right around the curve. As he continued forward, he felt something slithering across his shoulder blades, down the center of his spine, and stretching under his ribs. Icy nails clawed on every nerve end and shot daggers up his back.
Gavyn tried to scream, but there was no sound in the silence. His foot slipped off the foot bed and his body jerked to the side. No longer knowing which direction he was going in, the silence came to an abrupt stop and his ears were bombarded with the sound of screeching and scratching metal against cement.
He felt his grip loosen from the handlebars and he gave up his struggle to breathe. The last sound he heard was his heart make one more violent thump in his eardrum. Then there was nothing, as he gave up his body to quiet and darkness.
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