Before the Cultby Sandy Masia / Thrillers & Crime
Before The Cult
A Glimpse Inside A Depressive’s Mind
By Sandy Masia
Copyright 2015 Sandy Masia
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Table Of Contents
Other Titles by the Author
Connect with the Author
About the Author
Reading Group Guide
Before The Cult Essays
For Saya Heather Pierce-Jones for always being an inspiration.
Ritah Mafokwane, for staying up with me all those nights.
Lauren Pillay, for always being around.
Scarleton Series is partially chronological although events that happen in one book usually intertwine with other books and bring light on some issues expressed in other instalments. It is more of a thematic series; events on one book might be occurring at the same time, before or after the events in another book. They might influence each other or feed off one another. Each book takes centred look on one of the characters. Each book can be enjoyed on its own, but will be enjoyed even better within the context of others. All books are based in the fictional town Scarleton. Before the Cult is where it all begins and you are about to read about one of the most influential and pivotal characters to the series. Enjoy!
The calling – A burdening feeling, entity or guide.
The crop/the fields – a home beyond our existence which is the equivalent of heaven but different.
Sampling – homicidal experiments conducted for finding the perfect suicide.
She lay on the mattress free bed, tied to the bedframe. Her breasts severed and cauterized. Hair seared off and ears cut off. Her body covered with bruises, scabs, festering burns and wounds. Coagulated blood staining parts of her body. Too sore to move and dispirited she was. Her breathing wheezy and irregular. She had no idea how long she had been there, or where she was, but it was long enough to drain all the hope she had. The scars that were inflicted within her were oceanic. Her ear shattering screams were of no avail.
The man in the long dark trench coat came back into the torture chamber. He took a seat beside the bedframe. A dark silhouette in the dark room, his back turned on the grimy small window that ushered the only natural light into the damp place. He watched her naked body for a while, allowing the unsettling quiet to take over. When she began shivering and panting he spoke, "Remember what we asked you when we first brought you here?" A modest voice came from the shadow, coaxing in nature.
She couldn’t say anything to him, she had learned how futile it was the hard way. All she could do was listening. Besides her thoughts, he was the only voice she heard in a day.
“We asked you ‘What price is your life worth?’” He always spoke in plurals like that. He sat back into the chair and audibly exhaled. “You said you’re priceless.”
She waited for him to carry on, he always lingered in silences like that. “After a few modifications to your body you don’t wanna live anymore? Do you see how absurd that is? You have diminished the value of your life to the loss of a few parts.” He sighed. “Each time you convince us of how worthless your lives truly are. It’s why we don’t think twice before using your lives to buy in into a home.” He shifted in the creaking chair. “Isn’t belonging the only thing invaluable after all?”
With that, he unwrapped something in his hand. "Your wish is granted."
He began sprinkling some liquid on her. Gasoline, she smelled it. “No. no, no. Not like this please!” she wept, wriggling on the bedframe. “Haven’t you hurt me enough? Just make it quick and simple, please.”
He snorted, stood to his feet. “Consider the pain payment. Put your death to good use, you should be happy knowing that your death helped someone out.” A camera light fell on her face from the tripod. She squinted trying to make him out behind the light. He heard him unbuckle his pants and letting them fall on the floor. He began heaving. Then he flicked the lighter on. When she looked down at his groin she could see him touching himself. Before she could even make sense of it all flames engulfed her.
“Fuck, yes!” he snarled with pleasure.