My Novella

This story is Copyrighted by me and only me, if you repost without my permission, you will be persecuted to the full extent of the law. Yesh. Okay. Here it is ^^

The mind is the most mysterious and incomprehensible thing for us. It is the center of our thinking. It controls every action and reaction in the body. We can only use a small percentage of our minds; the rest is unmapped and untapped. Our subconscious is what controls and inhabits this part of our brain. If only we could integrate the subconscious and conscious mind into one being. This is what Alan Evans had striven to do his whole life. Every time he would get close to fulfilling his theories, he would get shut down, have pay cuts, or just have a strike of bad luck and it would explode in his face.
Alan Evans, a quantum psychologist from Amesbury, Massachusetts, lives his life researching the subconscious mind. He studied and graduated with honors from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. His major was, of course, in psychology and he continued his education on his own time in order to become a quantum psychologist.
Alan was a workaholic and never had time for his family. Even though he was very proud and happy with his family, they were very disappointed with his workaholic tendencies. He found that his work was the only thing that actually kept his attention. It allowed him to explore all possibilities. His wife, Debra encouraged his work even though it meant he wouldn’t be home for days. She just wanted him to be happy, but one day she finally got fed up with it.
“Alan, I need to speak with you,” said Debra.
Alan replied, “Yes, dear, is everything alright?”
“No, Alan. Everything is not alright.”
Confused, Alan replied, “Exactly what isn’t alright?”
“You, that’s what isn’t alright. I’m sick and tired of you coming home late, if not at all. Look what you’re doing to this family!”
“Honey, if this is about my work, I’m sorry. I must finish my research. I’m almost at a huge breakthrough. This is extremely important.”
“I don’t care how important it is! You have a family to take care of!”
“I know. I’m trying my hardest.”
“It’s just not good enough anymore. I’m sorry, Alan, but this has gone too far.”
“Honey, what do you mean? I’m sorry.”
With that note, she just ignored him and went to bed. After thinking about what just happened, Alan took his things and slept on the couch. When he awoke, he heard nothing. Nothing… He thought for a minute. Something’s wrong.
He said to himself, “I have to check on her.”
As he crept up the stairs, he noticed red stains on the carpet, spread underneath the bedroom door. He opened the door and what he saw set him into a spiraling frenzy. He saw his wife, murdered. She had a steak knife lodged in her throat, blood was everywhere. He started screaming. He ran to the children’s room and saw something he wished he had never seen. His kids were dead. They were strangled with a rope which was wrapped around their necks.
He ran downstairs for the phone. As he picked up the phone, he noticed something. His hands; they were covered in blood. He knew he didn’t touch his wife. He called the police. Just before they came, he washed up. No blood remained. They came as soon as possible. They attempted to question him.
One of the police officers said, “Hello, Alan. I am George Bennington, a police investigator. Do you remember what happened?”
“Help… Help…,” was all Alan could summon.
“Help with what,” asked George.
“Help.”
Before George could ask another question, the medics came and gave Alan a sedative. While Alan was asleep the Coroner drew his conclusions. The family was murdered.
George asked, “What do you think?”
The Coroner replied, “I’m sure it was a murder, but what puzzles me the most is how Alan survived without a mark while the rest of the family died. I’d keep my eyes on him.”
“Thank you.”
As Alan awoke, he saw a room of white. He was in the hospital. He tried to move but found he was handcuffed to the bed. He saw the head doctor in the hall speaking with the investigator that tried to question him earlier. He could hear the conversation.
“So what have you found, doctor,” asked Bennington.
“We have found an extensive amount of lesions and trauma spread over his body. There appear to be many cuts as well. The cuts were hidden under his shirt, pants and shoes,” replied the doctor.
“No wonder he was so distraught, he was attacked as well.”
“These weren’t your normal cuts, Mr. Bennington. These were as if he did them to himself. The cuts seem to have been done in a ritualistic manner.”
Alan was in so much pain, he could hear no further. Pain not of the body, but of the mind. He started screaming. The nurse ran in and injected him with a powerful sedative. He felt a dizzying sinking feeling. Before he knew it, it was dark outside. He woke up to the doctor and Mr. Bennington next to his bed. He was puzzled and tried to talk but couldn’t. He finally found the strength to speak.
“Wh-What happened,” asked Alan.
The doctor replied, “You’ve suffered quite a bit of shock. You’ve been out for about four days now.”
“Why am I in handcuffs,” said Alan.
“I’m sorry to say, but we believe you to be so far into a state of shock that you’d attempt suicide,” said Bennington.
“We just thought, because your famil-,” the doctor tried to say.
“Where’s my family,” replied Alan.
“Don’t you remember,” said Bennington
“What don’t I remember?”
“My God… I’m sorry to say but your family has been murdered.”
“No... No...”
With that, he passed out. He stayed asleep for another day and when he awoke, he was in a deep depression. He could barely move. The nurse came in with food and didn’t say a word. He couldn’t eat. About an hour later, he fell back asleep as she gave him another sedative.
Bennington came the next morning and woke Alan.
“Alan, wake up,” Bennington paused, “WAKE UP!”
“What? I’m… I’m awake,” shouted Alan.
“You’re being released; we don’t think you’ve done the murder.”
“Wait, you thought I murdered my family!?”
“Yes, you were our primary suspect but there is enough evidence to prove otherwise.”
“Fine, let me out of here… Let me grieve and leave me alone.”
“You’re going to get out of here soon enough. Don’t wor-“
“Worry? WORRY!? My family’s murderer is out there! You tell me to not worry!? FIND THAT SON OF A @*$^*, AND I MIGHT NOT WORRY! That is such a foolish comment to even utter in the presence of someone who is grieving for his recently murdered family!”
“We will find him. I promise you, we will find the murderer.”
Bennington took his bow and left. Just as Alan was getting dressed in his recently washed clothes, the nurse came in with this discharge papers. He signed the papers and left the hospital. He went to the nearest church and prayed. He prayed for hours and finally came upon a conclusion. He swore to find the person who so brutally murdered his family and make them pay; pay for the pain they have caused.
At the police headquarters, Detective Bennington was over viewing the facts and evidence of the Evans' family murders. He was looking at the crime scene pictures when he noticed a small marking above the headboard of the bed Debra Evans was found dead in. They were initials. The initials spelled A. B. Quite confused as to what they were, he looked deeper and sent an investigation team out to find the carved initials. When they came back, they had found a knife that had the powder of the same type of sheet rock that was behind the bed of Debra Evans. Bennington did not know what they meant. George Bennington decided to go find Alan and question him about the markings.
Alan Evans was still at the church speaking with the priest about his conclusive decision.
“I am sorry I feel this way, Father,” Alan sadly spoke.
“Listen brother. I am not giving you sanction to do what you think you need to do. I am also not saying that you wouldn't be punished if you carried out your plans,” Father Gregory replied.
“Father, I cannot thank you enough for your council and the knowledge you have shared with me. I know you don't think things need to be done that way but it is the only way I can think of to help my family.”
“Alan, I've been your priest for several years now. I have seen your family through thick and thin. I am feeling for them as well. Do what you must, God will forgive you.”
“Thank you, Father. I will see you soon.”
Alan left the church and started his quest to find the person responsible for the horrific murders of his family. As Alan was leaving, Bennington pulled up in his silky black Ford Mustang.
“Get in, Alan. We have a great deal to talk about,” Bennington urged.
“What do you need, George,” Alan said.
“Just get in, I will tell you on the way.”
“What's all this about?” Alan said as he stepped into the car.
“Well, we have found some disturbing evidence at the scene of the crime. It seems we might have a lead.”
“What did you find!?”
“We have found what appears to be a signature. It is the initials A. B. Do you know anyone with those initials?”
“No, I have never met anyone with those initials. Though, there was this one man that was a real creep back where we lived before we moved here.”
“What was his name?”
“He only told us his last name. He called himself Bouchard.”
“Where did you live before?”
“We lived in southern Alabama before we moved out here to Hillsboro.”
“Where exactly in Alabama?”
“We lived in Mobile, Alabama. We didn't like it there, too many murders in the area we lived in.”
“Oh really? This is great news. We just might have a case yet.”
“Listen, Bennington. I need you to find this guy. He has done some horrible things. Please, just find him.”
“We will, Alan, we will,” Bennington said as they pulled up to a Super 8 motel.
“Why have we stopped?”
“I figured you wouldn't want to go back to your house so the state has paid for a month in a motel.”
“Thank you so much.”
Alan took the keys from Detective Bennington and stepped into his room. He was so exhausted, he fell asleep almost instantly. He awoke to the smell of bacon. He stepped into the ornately furnished lobby of the Super 8 and ate a hearty meal. He then stepped back into his room and quickly grabbed the telephone. He dialed one of his old friends who happens to be a private investigator.
“Hello,” Alan said.
“Hello, this is the Raven Investigations Agency. How may I direct your call,” the receptionist said.
“Please connect me to Joshua Michaels.”
“Just one moment,” she replied.
“Hello,” Joshua said.
“Hey Josh, how've you been,” Alan exclaimed.
“Hey, I'd recognize that voice anywhere! Alan! What's new?”
“Funny you should ask. I'm calling you to give you some terrible news. Debra and the kids... They have been,” Alan swallowed hard, “They have been murdered.”
“What!? Is this a joke? This is terrible!”
“No, I'm afraid it isn't a joke. Listen, I need a favor from you.”
“God, Alan. What do you need?”
“I need you to find this guy. His initials are A. B. He or she carved their initials above the bed. I'm thinking it is a guy from where I used to live. His name was Bouchard.”
“Sure, Alan. I would love to help. It might be hard without all of the information though. I'll try my best.”
“Thank you, thank you so much. I can't wait to hear from you again.”
Alan hung up the phone and picked it up again. He called the airport. He bought a ticket to Mobile, Alabama. His plane is scheduled to leave at 1:30 PM tomorrow. He felt like watching some television and he turned it on. He changed to the news channel. His family's murder was being announced and that a reward would be given for any useful information. He wanted to avoid any negative feelings for his family. He quickly changed the channel. He settled on the sci-fi channel. He quickly fell asleep.
The alarm rings. He wakes up and looks at the clock. It is 9:00 AM. He rushes to take a shower and get his clothes. He calls a taxi to the airport. When he gets there, he is quickly let onto the airplane. He was almost late. He stows his baggage and sits in his seat. When he just gets comfortable, an obese guy sits next to him, crowding his seat. He endures the rest of the ride but doesn't enjoy it. When he gets off of the plane, a shuttle is awaiting him. He goes to one of his old friend's places. He knocks on the door and his old hunting mate opens the door.
“Hey, Alan,” Burnie said.
“Hey Burnie,” Alan replied.
“How has everything been!? How are you! I haven't seen you in ages!”
“Horrible, the last few days were absolutely horrible. Debra and the kids were murdered.”
“Oh man, Alan. That’s terrible. What can I do?”
“I just need a place to stay for a little while, just to get away from it all. Maybe we could go hunting soon.”
“Sure, sure, anything. Come in!”
“Okay, how are you?”
“I've been great! I'm really sorry for your loss, Alan.”
“Everyone is, yet, nobody is doing much about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the police are doing an absolutely crappy job.”
“I'm sorry, Alan. If there's anything I could do.”
“Yeah, there are a couple things you could do.”
“Yeah, what is that?”
“I need you to get as much ammo for your guns as you can. I don't want you to get hurt either. Losing my family is enough, losing you would be terrible.”
“Please, Alan. Don't do anything rash.”
“I'm not; I just want you to be safe. What do you think I was talking about? Killing myself? I wouldn't do that; I need to find the person responsible.”
“Sure, make yourself comfortable, I'll be back in a little bit. There's some food in the fridge, help yourself. Amy will be back soon with the kids. Don't tell her what happened, it would devastate her.”
“Yeah, it would. Thanks for everything. Please just keep yourselves safe.”
Alan went into their guest bedroom and set up his things. Their house is an old Victorian style house. It has painted glass and Persian style rugs. The beds were of the highest quality. They were some of the most comfortable Alan has ever felt. He quickly fell asleep.
He awoke to the sounds of nature, birds chirping, dogs barking, and wind blowing in the trees. Nevertheless, he awoke sad. He smelled the hint of bacon and eggs. He walked downstairs to see what the smell was. He saw Amy making grits, eggs, bacon, ham, and pancakes. Amy did not know he was there because Burnie never came back that night. When he came down the stairs, Amy caught a small glimpse of him. She was very nervous. She grabbed her butcher knife, the one closest to her. She turned around to confront the mysterious figure.
“Who the hell… are… You? What are you doing here, Alan,” Amy put the knife down as she said this.
“Wait, Burnie didn’t tell you,” Alan asked.
“No, he wasn’t here when I came home last night.”
“What do you mean? He was here when I got here, I asked him to go get some things, he never came back?”
“No… I thought he was just out working again.”
“Oh no… We have to find him!”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“He might be hurt, we have to find him! Get ready. Now!”
“What the hell, Alan, what’s wrong!?”
“Someone killed my family and I’m here to find him. That’s what’s wrong! If Burnie got in his way, then Burnie might be hurt or even dead. We have to find him.”
“Oh my god, Alan, why did you come here? Why? You put my family in danger when you came here. Go find Burnie; I have to get the kids safe.”
“Okay, take them far away, get them away from me. I am sorry for coming here; I did not know he would find me. Take them somewhere safe.”
He left the house sighing and nearly crying.. He knew what had happened to Burnie. He knew the damage he had done. He should have never come there. He then became overwhelmed with rage. He was going to kill the guy screwing with his life. He wanted to stab the person walking next to him on the street. He was so angry, he could see only red. He was about to go on a rampage of destruction. He was on the brink of despair. He then remembered his mission here. He had to find the murderer. He had to find Burnie.
Alan found his way to Burnie’s old hiding spot in the nearby woods. He saw blood. It was everywhere. Alan was horrified. He did not know what to think of this. He frantically searched for Burnie. He followed a trail of blood and found Burnie about 40 feet from the bloodied foliage. He checked the pulse on the seemingly lifeless body and found a slight beat. He was so distraught that he didn’t know what to do. Burnie was bleeding from every orifice on his face. He started to cough up blood and some unknown fluid.
“Burnie! Burnie! Wake up! Talk to me, Burnie,” Alan screamed frantically.
“Alan? Where are you? Am I dreaming? I… Can’t feel anything,” Burnie weakly urged.
“I’m here, Burnie. What happened! Who did this to you!?”
“I… I… Tell my family I love them.”
“I will, just tell me who did this to you! Please!”
“He… He looks like you.”
“Don’t die on me! I’m taking you to the hospital!”
“I’m… Sorry…”
“Don’t you dare! No! Don’t die!”
No matter how hard Alan tried, Burnie wouldn’t speak again. He was dead. Alan slowly let go of his best friend’s hand. Drowning in tears, he ran to the nearest house. He banged on the door. He was so distraught that he couldn’t even see straight. Someone opened the door.
“Help me, someone just killed him. Help me, please,” Alan begged.
“Okay, okay. Slow down, son. What happened,” the stranger replied.
“He’s dead, I need help.”
“Come in and call the police.”
Alan ran into the home and grabbed the phone. He called 911 and reported the incident. He then ran out of the home and up the street, not knowing where or what he would do. He just ran.
Back at the police station in Hillsboro, Bennington caught wind of the 911 call that Alan placed. Within 5 minutes he was on his way to the airport. He arrived in Mobile within hours. He went to the police station and started to question the phone operator.
“Hello, I’m Detective Bennington,” Bennington said.
“Is this about the call reporting the murder,” the call operator replied.
“Yes, what exactly happened?”
“Some guy called in reporting a murder of a Burnie Holliday. He was so, how should I put this, emotional that I could barely understand what he said. He was continually speaking about this Bouchard guy.”
“Do you know who this “Bouchard guy” is?”
“No, we have never heard of him.”
“Well, thank you for the information. I will contact you soon.”
Alan finally calmed down and crept into the nearest church for counsel. He found the priest and asked him some questions.
“Excuse me. Excuse me! I have some questions,” Alan said.
“Don’t be so impatient, boy. I’m coming. What do you need,” the priest replied.
“I need some help, some counsel.”
The priest turned around and saw Alan.
“How dare you, GET OUT OF MY CHURCH!”
“What? What did I do?”
“You know what you did, get out, you filthy beast.”
Alan, confused, left the church and sat on the bench that was in the nearby park. He thought for a few minutes. He caught some really disturbing images. They were so vivid. They were like memories. He saw his wife lying on the bed. It was as if he were there when his wife was murdered. He saw the whole thing happen. He busted into tears.
Since Alan was a psychologist, he tried to do his usual thing to himself. Hypnosis. He was awake when he did it. He heard some really horrible things. He was so disturbed by this that he didn’t know what to think.
Alan said, “Who are you?”
“I am you, only not you,” as if a voice in his head spoke aloud.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. You remember, don’t you?”
“What… What is this?”
“This is you. You understand. All those nights alone in the lab, constantly trying to improve yourself. To integrate your subconscious into your conscious.”
“Get… Get out of my head!”
Alan jumped off the bench. It was night. Some old guy was standing next to him with a confused and startled look on his face. Alan glared at this man and started walking into the night. He did not know where to go or what to do but he just went.
The next day, Bennington walked into the violent crime scene where Burnie was killed. He searched for any clue that could connect this to the murders in Hillsboro. He took out Burnie’s wallet and peered inside of it. He found a note that read “Get Alan Help”. He found his link. He found his clue. He found his suspect.
Alan went on and on. He came to an old warehouse at the end of a dirt road that appeared abandoned. It had raggedy walls and rugged looks. It appears to have survived many storms. Alan walked into the dark, damp and dirty place. The voice came back.
“Hello, Alan,” the mysterious voice said.
“Who are you, what do you want,” Alan thought.
“I want you, Alan. I want your body. I want your soul.”
“I… Get out of my head!! Leave me alone! Stop,” Alan screamed frantically.
Somehow, a whole day went by while he was having this short conversation with himself. He did not know what happened. He only found blood on his hands. He saw a trail of blood on the ground, he followed it. He came to a wall, the blood stopped at it. He had no idea what it was or what happened to the blood.
He quickly left the warehouse and was confused and depressed. He didn’t know why all these things were happening to him. He wished he knew why, he just couldn’t come to a conclusion as to why this was happening. He didn’t even have a clue. Everything just hit him, he fell unconscious.
“Hello, Mr. Evans,” Bennington said.
“What? Where am I,” Alan weakly replied.
“You’re safe and in police custody.”
“What? Why am… Why am I here? Why am I in handcuffs?”
“We didn’t want you to do anything rash so we kept you safe. We kept you from harming yourself and others.”
“What do you mean? I would never hurt myself or anyone else for that matter.”
Alan’s head was in a spiraling migraine, quickly getting worse.
“We found some evidence that links you to your family’s murders. We also found this in your friend’s wallet.”
Bennington slid over the blood-stained note that he had found.
“What? He thought I needed help? I did… I do… My family just got murdered, I do need help.”
“What are you doing down here, Alan? We were surprised to hear from you, so far from home.”
“You know why I’m here. I’m here to solve my family’s murders. You police aren’t doing ANYTHING for me or my family.”
“We’re trying our hardest and now we have a suspect.”
“I did nothing, either take these handcuffs off of me or charge me with something so I’m not wasting my time here listening to the ramblings of an old hack that can’t do his job.”
Bennington took the handcuffs off of him, knowing he didn’t have anything to charge Alan with.
“We’ll be in touch, Alan. Don’t do anything stupid, we’re watching.”
Alan left the station and continued his search for the assailant. He was thinking of what to do and where to go to start. He had no idea. Just then, he blacked out.
He found himself in the back yard of where he used to live. He was so confused. He had blood all over his body. He stepped inside to see what happened. Why he was there. When he stepped inside, he saw a dog. It had a knife stuck in its skull. Alan wasn’t so disturbed. He was confused. He thought he’d have a stronger reaction to something like this. He didn’t. Suddenly, the voice came back.
“Alan, I see you’ve found my little play toy,” the voice whispered to Alan.
“What the hell? Why do I keep hearing you? Where are you? Stop following me.”
“I’m not following you, I am you. Haven’t you noticed what has been happening? Haven’t you found the link?
“I… I have no idea of what you’re talking about. Stop this.”
“I know what you think. When you have a thought, I have a thought. I know you and what you’ve done.”
“What are you talking about? Get out of my head!”
“Oh but then you wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. You would be alone in this world.”
“I… I know…”
“You did it, Alan. You killed them. Now you must do it again.”
“No, I did not do that! I couldn’t do that!”
“Oh but you have. Even now, the police are coming here. Can’t you hear the sirens? They called the police.”
“Who. Who are ‘they’?”
“They are those who you killed. Go upstairs and you’ll see.”
Alan slowly crept upstairs and peered into one of the rooms. He saw a body lying on the bed. It was a disturbing scene, yet, he wasn’t so disturbed. They were pinned to the wall with knives and billiards poles. One man, one woman. One child.
“What? I did this?”
“Yes Alan, you did this. Of course, I helped.”
“Don’t you feel the exhilarating rush of pleasure as you witness this atrocity?
“I… I do…”
“Then embrace it! Embrace the pleasure, embrace the anger. Embrace the despair. Use it. Use the emotions to your advantage.”
“Okay.”
Just then, he hears several sirens outside the house and someone on a loud speaker. He stepped up to a window so he could hear.
“Alan, just step out of the house. You’re surrounded.”
He reached into his pocket. Somehow he knew there would be a gun there. It was a glock. It was a shiny black. He slowly pulled back the trigger and aimed carefully at the officer in charge. He pulled the trigger. The gun let out a sickening crack and as the bullet hit the officer’s head, the snipers took aim and shot. Alan felt a sharp pain in his chest but ignored it. He fired again, hitting one of the snipers on the roof across the road. The remaining sniper shot again, this time hitting Alan in his shoulder. He ignored the pain once again. He let out another shot, hitting the sniper’s scope and going straight through his eye. Just then, the SWAT team broke open the door. Alan swung around and with perfect aim, shot every single one of them that entered the room. The heard a thud. They threw a grenade. He dodged and fell behind the bed. The grenade went off. The blast shocked him but he just stood up and walked into the hall way. He turned and was shot right between the eyes.
Alan was his own enemy, the one he had tried so hard to pursue. He was the complete opposite of what he once was. He was the one thing he tried so hard to destroy.
Before Alan hit the ground, a million thoughts raced through his head. Regret and sorrow were not among them. He had truly become the meaning of evil. He had killed so many before his family, the memories just resurfaced as he hit the ground. He didn’t die instantly but he had about 10 seconds of true pain, or as he thought, pleasure. He was finally released from his earthly bonds. He could escape the reality that kept him at bay for so long.
George Bennington was the one who pulled the trigger that finally took Alan’s life. He was later awarded a medal for his bravery and determination. He left that case behind and continued to work on the cases almost like Alan’s. He was a true thrill seeker. Putting his life on the line for the happiness he could never truly have. He became a police commissioner a couple years later and nearly bankrupted the station he worked at and was fired.
Amy continued her life in sorrow. The only thing that kept her going were her kids. The children gave her the light to continue. She never told them about their father. She had only implied that he joined the military and was fighting for their country. She was never the same.
Thus ends the story of Alan’s life. His research was de-commissioned and burned. They found that it was his work that directly related to his condition. He will be remembered only as the Mobile Murderer. He was buried as Alan Evans, not Alan Bouchard as he had finally become. Not a single person will miss him.


I got REALLY lazy near the end. Sorry xP