Ren: The Man Behind the Monster Read online

  One-Twenty-Six Press.

  Ren: The Man Behind The Monster

  Sarah Noffke

  Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Noffke

  All rights reserved

  Copyeditor: Christine LePorte

  Cover Design: Andrei Bat

  All rights reserved. This was self-published by Sarah Noffke under One-Twenty-Six Press. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. If you are seeking permission send inquiry at http: www.sarahnoffke.com

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Summary: A bordering psychopath must face the monster inside him before it tears him apart.

  Published in the United States by One-Twenty-Six Press

  ISBN: 978-0-9862080-9-6

  Praise for Previous Works:

  “There are so many layers, so many twists and turns, betrayals and reveals. Loves and losses. And they are orchestrated beautifully, coming when you least expected and yet in just the right place. Leaving you a little breathless and a lot anxious. There were quite a few moments throughout where I found myself thinking that was not what I was expecting at all. And loving that.”

  -Mike, Amazon

  “The writing in this story was some of the best I've read in a long time because the story was so well-crafted, all the little pieces fitting together perfectly.”

  -The Tale Temptress

  “There are no words. Like literally. NO WORDS.

  This book killed me and then revived me and then killed me some more. But in the end I was born anew, better.”

  -Catalina, Goodreads

  “Love this series! Perfect ending to an incredible series! The author has done this series right.”

  -Kelly at Nerd Girl

  “What has really made these books stand out is how much emotion they evoke from me as a reader, and I love how it comes from a combination of both characters and plot together. Everything is so intricately woven that I have to commend Sarah Noffke on her skills as a writer.”

  -Anna at Enchanted by YA

  To Kelly, for all the support and inspiration.

  Table of Contents

  Reading Guide

  Get your free book here

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Reading Guide

  Get your free book here

  Reading Guide

  Sarah crafted the Dream Traveler universe and has 5 series that take place there. Characters from different series bounce between the books. The reading guide below offers a suggested order for consumption to decrease spoilers and stay on the timeline. The last three series listed can be read in any order.

  For more information please visit Sarah’s website at www.sarahnoffke.com or email her at [email protected]

  Join the mailing list here for freebies, updates and more! http://www.sarahnoffke.com/connect/

  A Dream Traveler Series: The Lucidites Series

  Awoken, #1:

  Stunned, #2

  Revived, #3

  A Dream Travelers Series: The Reverians

  Defects, #1:

  Rebels, #2

  Warriors, #3

  A Dream Traveler Series: Ren

  Ren: The Man Behind the Monster, #1:

  Ren: God’s Little Monster, #2

  Ren: The Monster Inside the Monster, #3

  Ren: The Monster’s Adventure, #3.5

  Ren: The Monster’s Death, #4

  A Dream Traveler Series: Olento Research

  Alpha Wolf, #1:

  Lone Wolf, #2

  Rabid Wolf, #3

  Bad Wolf, #4

  A Dream Travelers Series: Vagabond Circus

  Suspended, #1:

  Paralyzed, #2

  Released, #3

  Soul Stone Mage Series: An Urban Fantasy Witch Adventure

  House of Enchanted, #1:

  Dark Forest, #2

  Mountain of Truth, #3

  Land of Terran, #4

  New Egypt, #5

  Lancothy, #6

  Ghost Squadron Series: A Military Space Opera Adventure

  Formation, #1

  Exploration, #2

  Evolution, #3

  Degeneration, #4

  Impersonation, #5

  Get your free book here

  Click here to get started:

  http://www.sarahnoffke.com/free-book/

  Prologue

  When I was born the doctor said I wouldn’t live the night through. I had a problem with a valve in my heart. My pops called a secret healer who lived a few towns away. And now I write this to you as a grown man. I’m not spoiling anything for you from the tale you’re about to read. It isn’t a spoiler that all these years I’ve survived. The true secret is that I lived at all. Actually I lived on an edge, one so dangerous most don’t even know it’s there. I didn’t sell my soul to the devil or dance with her on a clear night. I ran up to the devil and I stole the mask she wore and I wore it comfortably for quite some time. But then I met an angel and she made me want to die. I didn’t though. My secret isn’t even that I lived. It’s that I lived pretending to be the devil, wishing God would save my soul. I knew this was a wasted wish. I have no soul left to save. It’s why I could steal the devil’s persona. It’s why I lived when I should have died too many times.

  I don’t hold babies or pause for the elderly. It’s not because I’m unkind. I’m kind. I’m kind enough to never put myself close to anyone vulnerable. I’m afraid I might break them. I’m afraid of myself. I live alone or with the strong and arrogant. But I don’t live close to those who are vulnerable. I don’t live close to those who might dare to love me. I don’t trust myself otherwise.

  When I was born God made an awful error. He allowed a healer to save me. He allowed me to live. I’m a mistake. Not because my parents didn’t intend to have me and God failed to kill me. I’m a mistake because of what I can do. I’m a mistake because people like me aren’t destined for happiness. We are the miserable. The lonely. The people you warn your children not to become. The ones you warn your children to stay away from.

  I’m Ren Lewis and I was born with too much power.

  Chapter One

  April 1985

  The antique clock on the wall had the most irritating tick. It seemed extraordinarily loud. Probably because the old grandfather was a knockoff. It most likely was manufactured the year before in some backyard by a wanker wh
o failed clock-making school and decided to go into forgery. I instantly liked the clock a lot more.

  Snap. Snap.

  The middle-aged Middling therapist dared to snap his dried fingertips in front of my face. Sure, I wasn’t paying attention to him. Sure, he’d asked his question to me repeatedly, and without answering I continued to stare at the clock which had too much lacquer and the detail work was a bit rough in places. How much did this shrink shell out for such a phony piece of furniture?

  Unhurried, I pulled my gaze around to face the irritated therapist. I had to give him credit. He almost appeared in control of this situation. Bravo. This is the only thing I think he had control of, since I was guessing his overweight wife probably bossed his skinny ass around all day and his three kids owned the parts of him that she didn’t. But this guy had a mock sense of authority over me; at least he had been trying to make a show of it.

  I blinked at him blankly. “What was the question?” I said.

  “Ren, are you paying the least bit of attention during this session?” Dr. Simon said, pushing his wiry glasses up the thin bridge of his nose.

  I took a deliberate moment to actually think about the question. Should I answer honestly or should I save his ego and make him as the poor therapist feel better about himself? Yeah, saving egos is someone else’s job, for sure.

  “Not really,” I said, stretching out my arms with a long yawn. “But if it will make this whole mess go along a tad faster then I’ll give it a bit more of my attention. How’s that, doc?”

  He bristled, pulling his yellow pad of notes closer to him as he crossed a skinny ankle over his bony knee. “What do you have to say for your actions? Are you the least bit remorseful about what you did to poor Widow Johnson?”

  I felt my eyebrows rise with surprise. Yeah, I was remorseful, but not about what I did to the old bag. I was remorseful that I’d been so foolish. Still new to my gifts, I had a lot to learn about limitations. Using my mind control, I convinced the old lady to give me her husband’s old Bentley. Give it to me. No questions asked.

  “Here you are,” she said, her Scottish accent much fainter than I remembered in years past. “It’s all yours.” Old Mrs. Johnson handed me the keys to the Bentley Continental, which had only been driven on Sundays. Then she gave me one little bit of advice. “Be careful around the corners. Henry didn’t like the tires to get dirty.”

  I’m sure he didn’t. But this car had only one destiny in my hands. It was going to get dirty. Inside and out. I was going to drive it to London. Park it in front of the finest clubs and tempt the finest of women to join me inside it. And my plan would have worked and I would have been laid by a model at the early age of fifteen years old. However, it didn’t work because I didn’t have a license to drive or the know-how to do so.

  Instead of driving that sleek ride to London, I crashed it into old man Miller’s stack of hay bundles on the other side of Mrs. Johnson’s farm. I knew then I’d never see a pretty lady undressing herself in that backseat. I had the know-how without all the actual “know-how.” I could control minds, but didn’t know how to do things…simple little things like driving. I needed to learn how to do these small tasks. But being fifteen provided all sorts of disadvantages. And namely, the first disadvantage was sitting squarely in front of me, fidgeting with his note pad.

  “The last time you were in here was because you let all of Mr. Gretchen’s sheep loose,” Dr. Simon said, reading from his file on the side table. He needed to have his orderly notes. Needed to be able to refer back to them. He didn’t have the advantage of a flawless, photographic memory, like me. Poor soul with his weaknesses and many shortcomings. How he made it through graduate school is ever a wonder to me.

  My green eyes narrowed at the accusation. It was all wrong. As usual. Just like with the Bentley. They thought I stole it, when it was actually given to me. And I didn’t let the sheep loose. I made Mr. Gretchen do it using a bit of hypnosis, partnered with mind control. However, I made silly errors in the process. Firstly, I’d hung around to watch the mayhem of sheep patrolling through our muddy streets. I’d also done a sloppy job of mind control on the dumb farmer. He remembered me. Didn’t know what I did to him, but there was enough suspicion that the whole thing was pinned on me. They thought I just let the sheep out, which is a lot more innocent a crime than what I really did.

  “Tell me, Ren, why is it that you keep acting out?” Dr. Simon said, almost looking a little afraid of me, but bent on acting his part as the parish therapist. The church wasn’t just paying him to sign off on the health and well-being of most of its members. They also expected him to fix the lot of us who were intent on the devil’s rule.

  I sized the guy up. We’d had at least half a dozen sessions. None of my usual lies had worked, so I decided he was ready for the truth. The truth I always saved until I was in the most amount of trouble. The truth invariably set me free, but not because people believed me. Rather because they thought I was crazy, which I probably am.

  “I keep acting out because,” I began in a rehearsed voice, “well, it’s complicated, and it’s actually a secret. I’m not sure if I should tell you. You may get mad at my parents since it was their insistence that I keep this private.”

  “Ren, I won’t get mad at your parents,” Dr. Simon said in his soothing therapist tone. “You can tell me anything and we will work through it together. Your parents will suffer no harm by your truths.”

  I nodded. Inside I smiled with glee. “The truth is that I was born half Dream Traveler, and not only can I travel through space and time using my dreams, but as this special race of humans I’m also gifted with a skill. Some Dream Travelers have one or maybe even two gifts. I can control people using my mind, hypnotize people with movements, and if I touch someone I can hear their thoughts.” I scuffed some imaginary dirt off my shoe. “That’s the truth. The big secret. Don’t be mad at me or my parents for it.”

  The therapist took in a long annoyed breath. “Until you, Ren, are ready to actually talk about your crimes in a real manner then these sessions are futile.”

  A slow smile formed on my face. The truth was always the better option in these situations. No one believed it and therefore just assumed I was a no-good teen. A troublemaker. A pathological liar. The truth was I kept telling the truth over and over again and no one believed me. My father, who had spent his life hiding the fact that he carried Dream Traveler blood in him, hadn’t especially liked that I did this. But he was smart enough to realize no one was ever going to believe me. I was Ren. The boy who had been there when my teacher pulled her knickers down during my solo detention last year. The boy who had been the one to call authorities when my entire church group, including our teacher, fell into inexplicable comas. I was the strange boy. The one who things happened around. But people thought it was because I was a troublemaker branded with the word “cursed” across my head. They had no idea it was because since I was ten years old I’d come into my gifts and could control most using my mind and hypnotize anyone I dared. I told them to hold my hand so I could read their thoughts, but they’d totally shrugged me off most of the time. Even though I kept telling the truth, I was dismissed. And that’s what made the whole thing even more fun. What fools they all were. Utter, stupid fools.

  But my mum saw through it and knew I was manipulating the lot of them. And her look of heartbreak did cause me a bit of stress. She kept professing her faith in me though. She thought that a heavy hand would never make me see my awful ways, but rather the hand of our Lord and Savior. That’s why she kept convincing the church to take me in after each of my crimes. Counsel me. Absolve my sins. Steer me in the right direction.

  However, my mother was as short-sighted as the rest. As a Middling, those who are without gifts or the power to dream travel, she’d never see how much fun it was to manipulate. My mother didn’t see a lot. Mostly because her life was so limited. And I wasted too many years of her life with my antics when I could have been with her,
learning the lessons only she could teach me. The ones I only now realize Middlings can teach. Those of the heart. Dream Travelers are too distracted by our minds, by our gifts, to fully understand how love works. However, Middlings aren’t complicated in that way.

  “Ren, we’ve been doing this regularly,” Dr. Simon said to me that evening. He was thoroughly done with my shenanigans, and soon the poor chap would sod off to his meager dwelling on the outskirts of Peavey, where his family would abuse him with neglect and pesky remarks about his feeble appearance. He sighed deeply. “Ren, when you get caught, your mother makes her case to the vicar and somehow you end up seeing me instead of the constable. These opportunities for you to have rehabilitation instead of punishment are running out. I suggest you be real with me. I want you to tell me why you act out. Many of your teachers describe you as having a chip on your shoulder. Of being hostile. Do you want to tell me why? This is your last chance.”

  More than once throughout my life I’ve been asked what it is that made me so hard, so hostile. Why would something have to make me the way I am? I’ve known dozens of happy people who have nothing to be happy about and still they plaster stupid grins on their faces every bloody day. There are those who are all scared and tortured and they’ve got no good reason for the self-pity. Nothing more than a few trivial things have ever happened to them. Forgetting their lunch. Missing an exam. Not getting the girl. And yet these lowlifes go through life like they were given a curse at birth.