The Dark Knight [Part One] Read online

  THE DARK KNIGHT

  Part One

  L. F. Piper

  The Dark Knight

  Part #1

  Copyright © 2018 L.F. Piper

  ISBN: 9781980914716

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover designed by The Illustrated Author Design Services

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the express written permission of the author.

  All songs, song titles and lyrics in this book are the property of the retrospective songwriters and copyright holders.

  WARNING

  The e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This e-book is intended for adults ONLY. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  I want everyone reading this to know, the world is a big and scary place.

  If you ever come across a Caleb Knight, run the other way. Fast.

  Well, maybe fuck him first.

  After all, everyone needs a little darkness now and then.

  They all hate me.

  She belongs to me, but she’s obsessed with me.

  She can go to hell, he is mine.

  Starting at a new school at sixteen shouldn’t be too difficult, right?

  I can totally do this.

  ***

  I totally can’t do this.

  These people are evil!

  Moving to the states is no walk in the park, nearly every student at Richmond High hated me the second they saw me.

  First there was Caleb Knight.

  Then Anya Walker.

  And eventually the whole cheerleading squad followed.

  I’m pushed around daily, tossed about like a rag doll constantly, and find myself wrapped up in darkness more often than not.

  They’ve made it their life mission to ruin me and I’m quickly running out of steam… and running back to the UK. I can promise you that.

  I only pray I don’t ever have to see them again.

  A dark enemies to lovers/bully novel.

  Over 18 only

  Please note: places have been made up, I have tried my hardest to keep with the time differences, and alternate words/phrases.

  Contents

  THE DARK KNIGHT

  PLAYLIST

  EPIGRAPH

  PROLOGUE

  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

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Playlist

  Grace, G-Eazy + FMA – You Don’t Own Me

  Avril Lavigne – My Happy Ending

  Tyga – Trap Pussy

  Estelle ft. Kanye West – American Boy

  Boston Manor – Drowned In Gold

  Livvi Franc – Now I’m That Bitch

  Knuckle Puck – Want Me Around

  Papa Roach – Bleeding Through

  You Me At Six – Save It For The Bedroom

  Nina Nesbitt – The Best You Had

  Bebe Rexha – Small Doses

  Jean Michael – Weed & Memories

  G-Eazy, Halsey – Him & I

  You Me At Six – No One Does It Better

  Start Trouble – Let’s Get Fucked Up

  Papa Roach – I Almost Told You That I Loved You

  Mabel ft. Not3s – Fine Line

  Paramore – Misery Business

  The Neighbourhood – Sweater Weather

  The Amity Affliction – This Could Be Heartbreak

  The Civil Wars – Poison & Wine

  B.o.B ft. Nick Minaj – Out Of My Mind

  Ice Nine Kills - Animals

  Britney Spears – Piece Of Me

  Pvris - Chandelier

  Robyn – Dancing On My Own

  Papa Roach – American Dreams

  Mia Martina – HFH (Heart Fucking Hurts)

  A Day To Remember – Over My Head

  Epigraph

  To anyone who’s alone in a crowded room

  Put your hands up high, sing it out of tune.

  It’s these late night hours we spend

  That help me up from down.

  We got this.

  A Day To Remember

  PROLOGUE

  Caleb

  I should’ve known she was going to be obsessed with me

  “I'm home!” I called out as I entered our house after a long day at work.

  “Hi, honey! How was your day?” My wife, Anya, asked me as I dropped my book bag onto a chair at our kitchen table.

  “It was awesome. I got to fire someone!” To me, this was a great achievement for any day at the office.

  “That's great, honey.” We had no idea what we were talking about.

  She still doesn’t.

  Here’s the thing, we were kids and we were stuck playing Mommy's and Daddy's at school. I had wanted to hang out with the boys playing soccer outdoors, but Anya insisted that she wanted to be my wife. Even at that tender age, I should’ve known she was going to obsessed with me.

  But soccer.

  I just wanted to kick a ball around.

  Anya twisted my arm, of course not physically, but she dropped her eyes to the floor while twisting the toe of her patent shoe into the well-loved carpet and locked her hands behind her back. I remember feeling disgusted. I couldn’t stand weak people, even less so now. Looking back, we were just children, but I felt like I had lived through five lives already. I eventually agreed to forgo my lunch break and play the stupid game, just so she’d stop acting like a baby.

  Anya had only had one Mommy and Daddy in her lifetime, but she seemed to know what she was doing. I'd already had three sets of parents by the age of eight and didn’t have a clue.

  I had no idea where I was from, or who I was.

  I belonged to no one.

  From nowhere.

  “Dinner will be ready in one-five minutes. Wash your hands and sit down.” I think Anya may have meant fifteen minutes, but who knows? I had a feeling, right then and there, that she would be using her good looks to get her through life and definitely not her brains.

  Or lack thereof.

  I wasn’t stupid, but I was by no means smart. I could still count and tell the time, though. It seemed numbers were going to be my thing, and that was purely based on the fact I could read the digits shown on a clock and nothing more.

  Words weren’t my strong point, they never have been. I had always struggled with expressing myself articulately and saying how I felt about something was more uncomfortable for me than getting a beat down, trust me. The staff at the group homes I’d been forced back to, on m
ore than one occasion, had always agreed amongst themselves that my words needed endless amounts work. They tried to force group classes on me, which I would continuously skip out on. I could go days without speaking sometimes, but that didn’t stop the words from flowing through me internally.

  On my way to the red plastic table, that had A4 sheets of tissue paper placed down sloppily to use as pretend place mats, I walked behind Anya. She was cooking at the stove; well, more like stirring nothing but air around a plastic pot, holding the rubber handle in her left hand and a wooden spoon in her right, and I slapped her ass.

  “Ouch, Caleb!” She hissed at me and rubbed her sore cheek. Whatever, I thought. You wanted to play the stupid game, so let’s at least play it properly. It couldn't hurt that bad; I’ve had way worse than that before and not even flinched at my attacker.

  I grabbed a pencil in each hand to use as my knife and fork and waited for Anya to serve me screwed up colored paper and somehow fake eating it.

  I’m sure she will be a great cook when she grows up. She’s only going to be a pretty housewife with a rich banker husband, after all.

  As soon as she put the plastic plate down, I stood up with it balanced in my hand and tossed it as hard as I could at the adjacent wall. Anya jumped out of her skin at the sudden turn of events and watched me stalk towards her. “Bitch, my food is burnt!” I seethed at her and watched as her face paled. As I predicted, she started to cry and that was my cue to push her until she fell to the ground. At that point, I jumped on top of her and started hitting her. The game was to keep hitting until she didn't move anymore. This is how all of my Mommy’s and Daddy’s do it, I wanted to whisper to her, but I didn’t want to spoil her game.

  We couldn’t have been playing for more than ten minutes – our class teacher, Miss Jacobs, pulled me from Anya and pushed me to the side. She dragged Anya’s body, overcome with shaking sobs, into her lap and hugged her tightly. I remember being shocked. That never happens. No one ever runs over to help. I looked over at Anya and noticed she was bleeding, a lot. That was all part of the game, though. I felt proud with how I played my part and ran off to play soccer before the rest of lunch break was over.

  ***

  The next thing I knew, I was sat in Principal Vaughn’s stuffy office. My foster parents were sitting next to me, the large wooden desk separating us from him.

  Mom #5 was frail, all worn skin and breakable bones. Her skin was pale, apart from the fading bruise on her cheek. It was a present from her loving husband, for ruining his dinner a couple of weeks ago. Would you believe, the inspiration for my earlier role. He was the gift that just kept on giving, literally. I knew it was there, so I could easily spot it from under the masses of makeup she had caked on before coming here. She had her lips pinched tightly together over the rotten teeth just barely clinging on to her weak gums, probably trying to stop herself from blurting out that we needed to leave because she needed to get high. I could see her legs bouncing frantically under the desk from where I was sitting. She was still wearing yesterday’s clothes and the sneakers she wore had holes; her big toe was beginning to breach the fabric on top. She was a mess. Disgusting.

  Dad #4 is just a fat slob that throws his weight around too much. This is where it gets a little confusing, hang in there for me. Dad #2 left the day after mom #2 took me to their rundown estate, so he has never counted as a foster parent in my eyes. It didn’t take mom #2 long at all, if a couple of days, to send me packing, preferring to keep her husband over me. Not like I could blame her, but I did. She was just as weak as all the others. Ever since then, I’ve always been a dad behind a mom, not that it’s ever made any damn difference to me.

  It might sound a little strange, me actually calling them mom and dad and numbering them. The numbers help me keep track of them, because there’s been so many over the years, and using their names makes it more personal to me. I’ve no expectations of what parents should be because I’ve only ever had guardians – I use that term very loosely. But I could have an expectation of a Cathy or a John, a Lou or a Barry. And that’s who I’m with now.

  Barry is even more filthy than his wife, Lou. If that’s even possible. He isn’t high or knocking his legs about like her, but he absolutely stinks. Principal Vaughn obviously called him away from his labouring job to have this meeting. His hair is greasy, unwashed and unkempt for days now. He’s wearing his uniform of navy blue tracksuit pants with holes in the pockets and knees, with a sweat and beer stained off-white t-shirt – again, with so many holes, it’s practically a none existent item of clothing. It’s too small, allowing his hairy beer gut to fall out of the bottom and over the waistband of his pants. He’s also wearing his signature wife beater underneath it. Convenient, I thought to myself when he walked into the office a couple of minutes ago, rolling my eyes and trying my hardest to hold my breath when he took the seat right next to me.

  Principal Vaughn told us that Anya had to go to the hospital. That part of the story has to be a joke. I doubt any of my moms have seen the inside of a hospital before. This has turned into a new game, a game I don’t understand. I feel on edge because I don’t know the play or rules anymore.

  Apparently, I had broken her nose and given her a black eye. Who knew a kid could do so much damage? In all fairness, I’ve always been bigger for my age and I was hitting on a weak ass girl. I didn’t know if I should feel bad that I’d put a girl in the hospital, but I didn’t. If anything, I was angry at Anya for ruining the game in the first place and my nerves were fraying the more I thought about it.

  Principal Vaughn expelled me from school right there on the spot and told my parents that he had to contact the authorities because ‘they were the rules’.

  ***

  Barry dragged me into the shitty trailer, that was just another place for me to temporarily call home. They always were. I had a feeling on the way back he was going to kill me and bury me in the backyard, but instead he practically bounced me off the fucking walls that afternoon. There weren’t even that many, but he still managed to break my arm and cover me head to toe in bruises. He called the system to come and take me away before Principal Vaughn even had chance to take his afternoon shit. Barry told them that I was getting into too many fights at school and they couldn't handle me anymore. He proved his point when he shoved me towards the front door, broken, bleeding and bruised, making out that a kid at school had done this to me.

  That so wasn't the case.

  I was only doing what I was learning from Barry, his fucking druggie bitch wife and the other foster parents I'd had up to this point.

  ***

  I was young and really dumb back then. How the fuck was I supposed to know that wasn't how normal, real families acted with each other? That had been the only definition of love that I had ever seen since I could open my damn eyes.

  But then came Rachael and Frank Mathis.

  And Emilia fucking Gold.

  My name is Caleb Knight and I have no idea who I really am.

  A darkness has surrounded me since birth.

  A lost soul.

  I don’t care if anyone finds me.

  I hope she finds me.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Emilia

  Nothing will ever be the same again

  The weather sucks and it completely matches my mood – dark, dull and dismal. I've just finished my last day at Evergreen Community School, Hampshire, England. I've never liked this place, but I really wish I wasn’t leaving it.

  “I'm going to miss you so much, Emilia.” My best friend since play school is hugging me so tight, I can barely breathe. We're both sobbing and getting some strange looks from the thinning crowd of students.

  “I'm going to miss you too, Phoebe. I can't believe this is happening,” I hiccup.

  My dad has this new fancy job that he starts in two weeks and this is the best news for he and my mum, but not so much for my seven-year-old brother, Dylan, and definitely not for me. We're moving to the states in three
days. A lot of kids around here would probably be thrilled to get out of this town, possibly even the country, but not me. I've grown up here, this is all I know. This is my home. My Grandma Violet, Phoebe and all my other friends are going to be left behind.

  Grandma Violet is the closest person to me, apart from Phoebe and I have to say goodbye to them both. This is the last time I'm going to see Pheebs, apart from when we FaceTime and hopefully visit each other. Although we don't leave England for three more days, one of them is going to be spent at an airport hotel and the rest will be spent packing. I've been avoiding it for as long as I can, prolonging the inevitable, but now I'm grounded until it's done. I'm kind of regretting not doing it sooner if it meant I'd be able to spend some more time with Phoebe.

  We're still hugging and wiping away snot when a car pulls up and the horn honks. “Sweetie, come on. We've got lots to do!” My mum shouts over the radio at me, but I can't bring myself to let go of Phoebe just yet.

  “Five more minutes, mum.” As much as we don't always see eye to eye, my mum understands I need this and somewhat patiently waits. I can see her pink fingernails tapping the steering wheel from here.

  I'd like to think of myself as a strong person. I've always got on with everyone, never broken down, studied hard and kept good grades at school, but I feel like I’m being punished for something I’m not aware of right now.

  Phoebe and I say goodbye one more time and then, dragging my worn Mary Jane Dr. Martens, I make my way over to the cherry red BMW that is my mother's car. We drive home in silence, but thankfully our house is only ten minutes away. According to mum, the streets that lead to ours aren't very safe, what with them not being patrolled every twenty minutes by the local neighbourhood watch, thus making daily pickups a necessity. She likes to make sure I get home in one piece. My mum is the Queen of Drama.