by Kalita Kasar
With no memories of his life before he was hit by a car as a child, Lionel Beaumont feels that rather than being born, he was dropped to earth as a ten year old. With more questions than answers, Lionel shuffles through life trying to make the best of it for himself and everyone around him. Until the night that he meets Ben Whittaker at a local pub. The answer he finds that night might just change things forever.
He fell, spinning through time and space, out of control and unable to check the momentum. Around him, thick, humid darkness swirled with sickening intensity. A thousand voices gibbered at him out of the dark, and clawed hands grasped at him, scratching and tearing. Deep inside him, something tore loose with an agony he'd never experienced. He howled, writhing to escape the inexpressible pain.
Someone caught hold of his wrist and he shrieked. The touch seared him. He called the name of his beloved.
"Ben!" Lionel Beaumont bolted up in bed, panting, shaken, his head reeling with the vestiges of nightmare. He closed his eyes, swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump of terror in his throat. Lionel pushed a hand through his hair and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
He stood up and swiped a hand across his face, wiping away beaded perspiration. "Fuck," he muttered as he stumbled toward the bathroom. Always the same dream. It never changed. He'd been having it since he was ten years old when he'd woken in a hospital bed screaming the name "Ben."
Cold water gushed from the tap over the basin and Lionel bent to splash it onto his face, cupping some into his mouth to wash away the taste of fear and half-remembered agony.Who the fuck is Ben?