Persona - A Disturbing Psychological Thriller (44 page)

An ex-airborne soldier, I’m drawn to stories of hardship and survival. Carlin announcing he’s ‘The Daddy’ in Scum; Brendan fighting for his family in Warrior; David searching for answers in Vanilla Sky.

I don’t hold back when I write. Much of my stuff contains black humour. Some might call it a sick sense of humour, but whatever it is you have to have it in the army - laugh or you cry.

I enjoy writing psychological thrillers. I like to depict thought-provoking situations and in some cases to make people more aware of important topics.

Persona was my first novel. The Mortal Religion came next. For that novel, I thought I’d create a simple idea and just have two characters. Then I had to decide how two characters could carry a novel. Almost instantly I settled on a kidnap novel. What a great platform for character development! Creating the protagonist was more difficult. This person had to have serious issues that would drive him to kidnap someone.

Vanity and superiority are powerful topics. Chalk, with his unusual face, never gets lucky. And it’s clear to him that it’s because of his appearance. Of course, this isn’t fair and he longs for a relationship, to love someone.

It’s always been the same for him - he was bullied at school and excluded. He starts to question humanity, and wonders how he’ll ever be happy. And when he’s blown out again in a very spiteful way, he decides to take action. It’s the final straw. He’ll use that girl to change people, to have them understand their deficiencies.

Changing someone’s mind set was a fascinating challenge for me. And it introduced a love angle too - the more Elizabeth understood Chalk, the more appealing she became to him, causing him to experience self-doubt, paranoia, and threatening his overall objective.

I think it’s the most important novel I’ve written so far.

My favourite novels are Damnation Street, The Exorcist, Complicity, Blood of the Lamb, and The Cult. I’m into skiing, running, cycling, martial arts, chess, and writing!

I’m very excited about the forthcoming release of my third novel: Cuffed. Expect to see it before the summer. Excerpts, updates and offers will be available on my website.

Author’s Note

Thanks for reading Persona. I hope you found it entertaining and different! If you did, please leave a review on Amazon (rating a book on your Kindle doesn’t register for some reason). I’d also be grateful if you’d share your review on your social networks.

Keep in touch with me here, or discuss Persona:

Website:
www.marchornwriter.com

Amazon author page:
www.amazon.com/author/marchorn

Twitter:
www.twitter.com/marchornwriter

Facebook:
www.facebook.com/marchornwriter

YouTube:
www.youtube.com/user/MarcHornwriter

Acknowledgments

Thanks to the following people for your help in creating Persona:

Editor: C Davies - Some very necessary re-writes wouldn’t have happened without you!

Proof-reader: L Chan – Thanks for the eagle-eyes.

Illustrator: Angela. You blew me away with the superb cover.

And the people who assisted with research: The Vigils for accompanying me on my Black Forest recce. ‘Can you see me?’ I’d ask repeatedly as I took cover behind trees. ‘Yes!’ was the all-to-frequent reply!; The Khans for their medical advice; Mr Dytrych-Cowell for info about the sniper rifle; Mr Pyatt for suggesting Richmond Park as a venue for the meditation scene in chapter 6; And Mr Kohler for sharing his considerable knowledge of firearms.

Also available as an ebook or in paperback…

THE MORTAL RELIGION

Best Rabid Reader’s Reads of 2013 (Award-winning review blog)

Chalk Cutter was spitefully nicknamed Moonface as a child, and lives a life of torment and isolation because of his unusual appearance.

When young, popular and beautiful Elizabeth openly ridicules him, Chalk has had enough, and he realises that only a revolution could induce change.

He kidnaps Elizabeth, intending to re-educate her - and ultimately mankind - in an attempt to lead a narcissistic society to treat all people as equal.

But Chalk hadn’t anticipated his own emotional backlash to the brutal brainwashing process...

As he and Elizabeth begin to think alike, discussing ways to combat society’s evils, he is forced to face increasing self-doubt and sexual urges that could jeopardise his vision.

His self-control diminishing, and after some reckless actions, his elaborate plan seems little more than a pipe-dream, until an old nemesis infiltrates Chalk and Elizabeth’s world.

This fateful encounter is the catalyst for the creation of The Mortal Religion, the shocking revolution Chalk is certain will breed universal contentment...

E-thriller headlining Thriller of the Month April 2013

Featured on 42 Books to Read for Towel Day (from award-winning review blog Rabid Readers Reviews)

A dark, disturbing and thought-provoking psychological thriller that explores the effects of social exclusion, THE MORTAL RELIGION takes you deep inside the soul of self-discovery, desperation, and obsession. Unique and perceptive, it will grab you from the first page and not let you go until the last.

Sample Chapters 4-6

4

The spider is an ingenious predator. Effortlessly waiting in its home and trap for a fly to trigger a vibration.

Just as some spiders build their webs near decay, where flies fester, I have set my trap at Elizabeth’s favourite place – a party venue, where she will be admired by at least one person. Once the doorbell chimes, I’ll pounce on my prey and immobilise it...

It has been one hour since I sent the text message, and I am expecting Elizabeth imminently. Lyrics from the Stone Roses track ‘Elizabeth My Dear’ seep continually from my mouth. I can’t stop murmuring it, despite its inappropriateness – I am not a murderer.

I am confident that my prey will visit. I am relaxed and ready. For someone like her, the opportunity is irresistible, a no-brainer, and she will hurry to get here. She’s been informed that an attractive male waits eagerly for her, and she craves his attention. Flattery sustains her. In keeping with modern society, she is all about image.

At that moment, the blonde’s phone starts to ring. I take it out of my pocket and see Elizabeth’s face fill the screen. A surprise – I had not expected her to ask questions, but I am not unprepared. I hurry down to the basement, then press the green phone symbol and hold the phone to my ear. I cannot hear what she says as my music is too loud. Of course, I say nothing. After a few seconds, she realises the call is pointless and ends it. I place the phone back in my pocket, hoping she was just calling to confirm her arrival time.

I make my way back to position. I have placed empty glasses and bottles of beer along the corridor leading up the front door, and my stereo plays a recently-purchased hip-hop CD at full volume in the basement. Elizabeth must believe there is a party downstairs. I considered buying a CD of droned voices and laughter in order to reinforce in her mind the existence of a party, but dismissed it. It would be a surplus effort. Elizabeth’s ego will guide her into my house. And like the spider, I will not expend more energy than is necessary.

And then, as I stride along the corridor, I hear the doorbell. I take a breath and slip quickly into position, in the computer room. The front door is ajar, just as I had left it. Fortunately, she has not yet opened it and therefore has not seen me. It is important that, initially, I remain faceless, which is why I wear a balaclava.

Phoning to say she had arrived – that’s why she had called. I hear the door creak open.

‘Hello?’ she excitedly says. I wiggle my toes and fingers. ‘Heather...?...Hea-’ She cuts the question short and enters my house. The entrance to the computer room is to her right, a few feet further on. Once she passes the room, I will attack. She advances so slowly that even I feel tension. Does the spider feel tense when a fly hovers in front of its web, agonisingly close to the sticky silk? She stops and questions what she is doing. I almost spring from my position, but manage to control myself. I must wait. I must be patient and wait. Her ego will get the better of her. It has to.

‘Heather?’ she shouts.

She waits. I can hear her breathe. And then she turns and walks out.

I do not panic. I take out the blonde’s phone and carefully write a message: ‘Where are you, Elizabeth? We left the door open for you. We’re all in the basement.’ I send this text to Elizabeth’s phone. Outside, I hear her phone beep. My fists are white. She is reading the text.

A few seconds later she pushes open the front door and heads for the stairs.

I quietly hum ‘Elizabeth My Dear’…

She passes the computer room, takes a look inside, does not see me standing behind the door, and then walks on. I walk out of the room, close in on her, slap my hand over her mouth and pull her back hard against my body. Her muffled screams are quiet behind my hand. I reach around her with my other arm, press the bar of my wrist against her windpipe, and use just enough force to cut off her oxygen supply. I have applied a good choke. As I knew she would, she frantically tries to pull away my choking arm. Of course, I am too strong for her. This move seems to take forever, but I know it will actually last just a couple of seconds. I do not want to injure her. I am doing it merely to incapacitate her. I am careful to remain calm. Adrenaline is very dangerous when using such an attack, as it blocks your concept of time. Applying this hold for any more than three seconds can easily induce brain damage or death. And, also, adrenalin clouds awareness of how much strength you are using – it is easy to collapse the windpipe or damage the larynx.

When Elizabeth’s grip on my arm loosens and I feel her legs give way, I release the hold and throw her over my shoulder. She is unconscious. I carry her directly to the basement and tie her to the leather computer chair which is bolted to the concrete floor.

With her feet, arms and waist bound to the chair, I tape her mouth and place a bag over her head. Then I remove my balaclava, turn the stereo off, race up the stairs, cautiously walk along the corridor and close the front door.

Throughout the choking, the door was ajar. I had propped it open with a WKD bottle. That way, no one passing by would have seen us.

I pick up the handbag she dropped in the struggle. Then, smiling, I return to Elizabeth.

5

I take off the cycling glove I wore on my choking hand. It is covered in scratch marks and indentations from Elizabeth’s nails. I also wore a long-sleeved top to prevent her piercing my flesh. I roll up my sleeves.

It is a hot August evening. I sit on the armchair, which is positioned directly in front of Elizabeth. I will spend many hours sitting here, so it is suitably comfortable. I tip the contents of Elizabeth’s handbag on the floor. I pick up her phone and check her outgoing and incoming calls and texts after 6:03 p.m. today. I am pleased to see that the only communication since then was a call she made to the blonde, which I answered in the basement. Before that first text I sent her from the blonde’s phone, the last call she made was at 4:48 p.m. to ‘Rupert’. When she is reported missing, that will be recorded as the start time. Rupert will find he arouses a small amount of police interest. Of course, after enquiries, he will be eliminated, but it still amuses me.