The Forum: An intense psychological thriller that will leave you breathless Read online

  The Forum

  By

  Luis Samways

  Text © 2016 by Luis Samways

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design by The Purple Book Co.

  Luis Samways has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  eBook edition first published in October 2016

  ******

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  For more information on books by Luis Samways Visit:

  www.LuisSamways.com

  www.Twitter.com/LuisSamways

  © 2016 by the Purple Book Co.

  Table of Contents

  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

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  The computer screen flickered as Michael Evans typed. He’d just woken up and was getting over his four hours of sleep the night before, wiping sleepy-dust from his eyes, he sat back in his chair and watched the cursor on the screen as it typed.

  Me: I’m pretty bored to be honest. There isn’t much going on in the world.

  Deviant 6: Oh, so you want it to be utter chaos all the time? Where would the fun be in that?

  Me: I don’t know man; it’s just pretty boring right about now. Usually I go on LiveLeaks, and see what the world has been up to. You know, the usual shit. Beheading videos. Accidents. Murder files. That sort of shit. But it seems as if the world has decided to take one big fucking holiday this week. There’s nothing to see, or to pontificate. I’m bored speechless.

  Deviant 6: Well, you seem to be handling it just fine. You’re here, aren’t you? Might as well just watch some archive stuff.

  Me: Archive? Ugh, no thank you. I’ve seen that chainsaw beheading video like a million times. Not as brutal anymore. Kind of comical, even.

  Deviant 6: I know what you mean. This damn website doesn’t get updated enough. There has to be some fresh gore out there? There just has to be. Those damn Arab Nazi’s be killing each other every day. Surely they’d carry on their tradition of putting it on film?

  Me: Nah man. The river is dry my friend. No blood. No gore. As I said, one big fucking holiday.

  ***MR. BIG BUCKS HAS ENTERED THE LOBBY***.

  Me: Who the fuck’s this?

  Deviant 6: Some guy I wanted you to meet.

  Mr. Big Bucks: Hey, wadup?

  Me: What’s going on dude?

  Mr. Big Bucks: Nothing much. Heard some things about you.

  Me: Oh yeah? What’s that then? Anything interesting?

  Mr. Big Bucks: I heard you like to watch the world burn…

  Me: Oh, is that so? I guess I’m a little partial to watching the human race kill each other off day by day.

  Mr. Big Bucks: Good. That’s the sort of people I want a part of my forum.

  Me: Forum? What the hell is this, 2006?

  Mr. Big Bucks: I know; forums are a little old school. I get that. But this forum is different. It’s full of people like you and me.

  Deviant 6: And me…

  Me: People like us? And what are they exactly?

  Deviant 6: Spectators…

  Me: Yeah, I guess…

  Mr. Big Bucks: But we don’t have to be the ones on the sidelines anymore. This forum is different. We can get up close and personal. We can have a front row seat. Who knows? We can be the ones involved if we so wish it.

  Me: Involved? What do you mean?

  Mr. Big Bucks: I’ll private message you the address. Check us out. But only if you’re serious about taking this to the next level…

  Me: The next level?

  “Michael? How many times have I told you to put your uniform on? It’s a bloody school day, and you’re on your computer yet again,” Michael’s mum said as she came into his room, and drew the curtains open, allowing a blinding sheet of light to enter the usually darkened room, revealing a tired fifteen-year-old staring at his computer screen.

  “What are you doing?” His mum asked, walking toward her zombified looking son.

  But Michael had closed the browser on his computer and was now staring directly at his mother.

  “Just reading some emails mum. I don’t appreciate you barging in on me like this. I could have been naked!” Michael said, staring at his mum, while trying to remember when the last time he felt any love for her was.

  “I’m sorry Michael, but you live under my roof, and whilst under my roof, I expect you to get bloody dressed and ready for school on your own. You’re not eight years old. You’re nearly sixteen, and sixteen-year-old boys don’t need their mummy to get them dressed. So how about it?”

  Michael tried to remain calm as he sat on his swivel chair, half naked, staring at his bickering mother.

  He took a deep breath in.

  “Sorry mum. I’ll get dressed,” he said.

  His mum nodded firmly, as if she had just won the argument, and walked out of the room holding a washing basket full of undies.

  “Fucking bitch,” Michael whispered under his breath as he got up from his swivel chair and shut down his computer. As the screen faded to black, he saw that he’d received a message. He gathered that it was from the guy that he’d been speaking to on that gore website.

  He’d have to read the message later on. It was most likely sensitive, and he didn’t want his bitch mum knowing what he got up to online.

  The problem was that she saw the world differently than he did. And so did his goofy dad. They were so middle class that it wasn’t even funny. They had really nice jobs and really nice parents. But he suffered because of it. In his mind, they expected too much of him. And it didn’t help that he was an only child. An only child that had social justice lawyers for parents and do-gooder, b
een-married-forever grandparents to boot.

  He was the black sheep of the family. Nobody quite got what he was about. But they would know one day. And when they did come to know what their precious boy was truly about, then and only then, would they see the world for what it truly was…

  A disappointment.

  Chapter Two

  Mr. Big Bucks was sat at his desk contemplating his empire. The man was as rich as a man can be after all, and he enjoyed his downtime moments just as much as most men do. But the difference between Mr. Big Bucks and most other men was simple; he knew exactly how to get what he wanted out of life.

  That’s why he now found himself sitting in a plush office, surrounded by modern art and expensive furnishings, staring at his high-res 4K forty-inch monitor on his gigantic desk, sitting back in his plump chair.

  Yes, life had been good to Mr. Big Bucks. So good in fact, he wanted to bestow some of his wealth onto the needy. But he wasn’t the type of man to give to charity for the sake of it. He saw charities as a burden to human progress. In his opinion, charities were very much a part of the problem.

  And the problem was this: if men were to become equal, then it would be up to other men - far richer men - to divide the wealth. And the caveat of charities was that the only people giving regularly were the povs. The common folk. The in need themselves.

  And that of course would not do. The world could not become better if the rich were still relinquishing their assets, and only giving them away at Christmas or Cancer Awareness Month, instead of coming up with a more viable plan.

  So that’s why Mr. Big Bucks was doing what he was doing. He knew that he had far too much wealth. It was obscene in fact. So he’d decided that he would disperse some of it. For a long while he didn’t quite know how he was going to do just that, but after some prolonged thought, he’d come up with the perfect plan.

  A plan so ingenious, that it should be illegal… well, it was, but that’s neither here nor there.

  Every businessman knows that a brand is what builds the foundations for success, both present and future, and Mr. Big Bucks knew that his brand could be tarnished by such an ingenious idea. People just wouldn’t get it, and to be frank, it wasn’t really for them to get in the first place. It was just for him and his chosen ones to understand, for it is they who would benefit from his plan.

  That didn’t mean that Mr. Big Bucks wasn’t going to have a good time with this little project of his. He’d have a ball! He just couldn’t wait to get the proverbial ball rolling on this and start the inaugural Forum League Games. He just had to make sure his final pick - the most important pick - was up for the job.

  The others were, so his last pick would also have to be. Probably more so than the rest, seeing that he’d have a wager on his favourite - and his favourite would be pick number eight.

  Eight picks. Six men, two women. The problem was, his last pick was a little on the young side. He was only fifteen. But he figured that the first annual League Game would benefit from some young blood. A little spunk goes a long way. And he was hedging his bets that the final pick would win this whole thing.

  And when he did, Mr. Big Bucks was prepared to repay him handsomely. After all, hard work should pay, and these eight people were about to work extremely hard.

  “Hellen,” Mr. Big Bucks said into his desk com “cancel all my appointments, I’ve got some important matters to attend to,” he said, taking his finger off the comms and sitting back in his chair, letting the fabric support his troubles as he pondered exactly how he was going to convince pick number eight that he should be part of all the fun.

  “He should meet the others,” Mr. Big Bucks said under his breath. “Then he’ll see how easy I’ve made this for him.”

  It was no secret, Mr. Big Bucks had a thing for the youth of Britain. He wanted to see them succeed in life like he had. But the state doesn’t sponsor children the same way anymore. So Mr. Big Bucks had taken it upon himself to do a little grassroots sponsoring of his own.

  There was a lot of money at stake here, money that could change all eight participants’ lives, but they would have to earn it.

  And earn it they will… by any means necessary.

  Chapter Three

  Michael was sitting in the passenger seat of his dad’s estate. The interior wasn’t anything of much value, which was strange, because Michael saw his dad as a little bit flash - the type of guy who liked to spend money just because he had the means to do so. It pissed Michael off something rotten. His dad was one of the main reasons he was being bullied at school. People saw Michael as the rich kid who went to a comprehensive just because his parents were nerdy hippy types that wanted him to be “normal”.

  But Michael was anything but normal. He was damaged. Damaged by the things he’d seen online, and the feelings he felt toward all of mankind.

  The kid just couldn’t shake the fact that life was unfair. Most kids would love to be as well-off as he was, have the fancy computer and new release games to play - but because Michael himself was lucky enough to have those things - the kids had collectively decided that Michael wasn’t one of them.

  Didn’t they realise that the things they wished for would put them in the same position in life that he was in now? And what good would that be? They’d then be wishing that they were normal, and didn’t have to put up with the unwashed masses at school making their life hell just because their parents made a good living.

  But kids were notorious for not getting the facts right. Just because his parents had money, didn’t mean that he had money. His mum and dad were far too busy spending it on lavish clothes, nights out and kitchen re-fits to give any to their only child. But who was he to complain? He had the latest games console, so there’s that at least.

  “How’s school?” Michael’s dad asked as he pulled the car out of the driveway and gently cruised down the suburban street that they lived on.

  “What?” Michael asked, taking his iPhone bud out of his ear, and jerking his neck at his dad.

  “How’s school treating you?” His dad repeated.

  Michael scoffed, and turned his music down. Not because he wanted to be able to hear his dad talking, but because his battery was dying, and he’d forgotten to charge it last night. He’d been too busy watching the latest execution video to hit the net.

  “School’s shit dad. You know that,” Michael said.

  His dad tried to ignore the crass language by delving deeper into the question at hand.

  “Why’s that? Girls not paying you any attention? A lad like you must get a little attention? You’re my boy - spitting image of me - when I was your age, I got attention. I was quite the player,” his dad said, a smirk on his face.

  Michael rolled his eyes.

  “Well, time’s change. Unless you’re seventeen years old, and drive a Corsa, girls my age won’t open their legs for you,” Michael hissed.

  His dad gripped the steering wheel tightly as he took a left.

  “Michael, you won’t get far in life with a mouth like that. Your mum may put up with your vulgar attitude, but I won’t think twice about pulling this car over and giving you a slap. Girls don’t just open their legs; I hope you know that… There’s more to them than sex.”

  Michael smiled.

  “Sorry dad, must be my hormones. I know what you’re saying, girls are more than that, but if I may be blunt, the ones at my school don’t have much going for them. They love older boys, and I’m afraid, I don’t really fit in with the crowd.”

  “What do you mean you don’t fit in?”

  Michael shook his head, as if the answer was obvious.

  “Come on dad, you know why.”

  His dad gripped the steering wheel again as he took another left. Thankfully, the car journey was nearly over, and the school was looming overhead. His dad felt uncomfortable talking to him about school life, just because he knew how much Michael struggled.

  “Look son, we can’t help that we are a little b
etter off than most. But that doesn’t mean that we are different, hence why we live where we live, and you go to school where you go to school. Money doesn’t make people like you. In fact, it makes people dislike you, so I wouldn’t pin all your hopes and dreams on cash. It won’t change the way people interact with you. And as for the people at your school, they’ll come around. They always do. And when they finally see you for who you are, and not who your parents are, then they’ll feel like pretty shitty people. It’s up to you to hold tight, and hang in there. You never know when your worst enemy can become your best friend, trust me on that.”

  Michael shrugged his shoulders.

  “Yeah dad, great advice, I’ll wait for everybody to like me. Until then, I’ll be depressed, and fiddle with my balls during lesson time… I mean why not? Nobodies looking or paying attention to me…”

  Michael’s dad sighed inwardly and blinked a few times, staring directly through the windshield.

  Only five more minutes, and this will all be over… he thought to himself, savouring the idea of not having to deal with his rebellious son for the next eight hours straight.

  The joys of having a teenage son.

  Chapter Four

  “Look, I’ve found the eighth candidate,” Mr. Big Bucks said, sitting behind his desk, staring at his large computer screen, while on his mobile phone.

  “You have? Well, congrats. You took your bloody time. From what I’m hearing, the other candidates are growing a little antsy, they want their moment, and they want it soon,” the man on the other end of the phone said.

  Mr. Big Bucks frowned.

  “They’ll get their damn moment. Don’t you worry about that. They should all know that this takes time. For The Forum to succeed, its members need to be of a certain calibre. We cannot have people within our organisation that don’t have the metal to make shit happen. They know that, and so do I, hence the delay in finding the final member,” Mr. Big Bucks said, audibly annoyed at the idea that the other seven candidates were brave enough to voice their displeasure at how long the planning stage of The Forum was taking up.