Chains by M. Todd

Author:M. Todd
Format: epub

Something sinister was studying this small part of the world. With piercing eyes, it burrowed deep into the minds of the insane, the feeble, the damaged, and the malevolent. Where it could, it left a trace of its hatred, its contempt, a corrupting and fracturing agent that twisted and confused those who were easily susceptible to dark and deathly thoughts.

Iam Raitt was one of the vulnerable. Easily bent. Easily manipulated. Easily broken. He hadn’t been himself lately. That is what one part of his mind told him. The other part was content, convincing that this more vicious and savage self was his authentic nature all along. It wasn’t far off, but not necessarily true either.

Iam had been doing a lot of thinking. His mind kept going back to the more painful memories of his life. Sitting in the dark on a small wooden chair in the back room of Ashley’s office, his brain felt like it was in overdrive as he brooded over his current dilemma. The room where he now sat was used as Ashley’s private kitchenette, with a coffee station, some cabinets, a mini fridge and microwave, a small wooden table, and two wooden chairs. A metal door led out to the back alley, which is how Iam got into the building. A second door led into Ashley’s office.

Iam held a large, well-used hunting knife in his right hand, feeling the sharpness of the blade with his thumb. It was a Timber Wolf fixed blade Bowie knife with a Damascus steel blade, with deep, blood grooves etched into the sides. Its white handle had a pinkish tinge, which were stains from dried blood; there was a well-worn homemade sheath laying on the table.

Iam’s thoughts flashed to his childhood home, a dilapidated cabin on the outskirts of town in a fairly large, wooded property. Iam and his mother had lived in the largest of three cabins on the lot, nearest the driveway.

Iam was an only child. His mother’s name was Bonnie (not the famous American singer), and she had long, red, curly hair, which made her stand out among a crowd. Her other distinguishing feature was that she had no legs. The “accident” that had taken away her legs happened years before Iam was born, so he had always known his mother as legless.

Bonnie had a drug addiction and a crazy, dark and twisted sense of humour. She showed no real devotion to Iam, no caring, nor any motherly love. She cared more for her drugs than she did for her child.

“You do know that you are the dumbest kid I ever set eyes on. I would trade you in for a really good high if I could,” she would say to Iam at least once a week. Iam would just bow his head, he knew better than to talk back to her.

Iam’s full name was Iam Second Raitt. It was just one of many insults that his mother had left him, which were permanent markings of a wretched childhood.

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