I Am The Wind Read Online Free PDF Page A

subconscious trying to work things out, to show you what the problem is and how to deal with it.
    So what does he represent? Every bad thing that’s ever happened, I reckon. He’s an amalgamation of all the people who turned on me, made me feel worthless. His hulking size…stands to reason he’d be big. He’s got quite a few wankers to represent.
    I walk forward, bold as brass, hands in pockets as though his presence doesn’t bother me one bit. It does, of course it does, but he doesn’t need to know that. Monsters in nightmares—and in life, when you think about it—feed off of fear, use it against you.
    The tunnel seems never ending, but I reach him eventually, stand before him and look up at his face much like I have to with Alfie. The light behind him prevents me seeing his features properly, but I just make out the blackened teeth in his mouth—the same shaped teeth as on that hacksaw—and the whites of his eyes.
    “What do you want?” I ask. A dumb question, really, but what else is there to say? I’ve got to sort this shit out, create a clean slate. I can’t keep thinking of what went on before. The future’s where it’s at, right?
    “I want you. To break you. See how you deal with that. You’ve been an embarrassment. Hurt us. We just want to hurt you back.”
    His voice, it’s like a file rasping on a hunk of wood, all rough edges and splinters. I wonder why all those people want to see me fail? If I’d treated them like shit I could understand it, but all I’d done was admit to being bent. Hardly something to be broken for. Not in my book, anyway.
    “Nice,” I say, shrugging to show him I don’t give a toss. I have to, don’t I? The minute he smells fear he’ll come down on me like a sack of shit.
    “Come with me.”
    He turns and I follow him into the light. Nothing but brightness surrounds us until he lifts his arm and flicks his wrist. The light dissipates, and a torture chamber comes into view. Dark and dingy, the room has mould growing up the walls and the stench of dampness is overwhelming. I breathe through my mouth, holding back the urge to gag, throw my guts up on the manky floor.
    “Go and sit over there.” He points to a wooden chair beside a table.
    Chains are draped over it, heavy-looking sods that could keep a body captive, no trouble. I do as he asks, curious as to what he has in store for me, hoping that whatever he dishes out will help me make sense of everything. If this wasn’t a dream I’d make a run for it, because this bloke isn’t anything like Alfie. He doesn’t make me want to stay with him.
    I sit and the man secures me to the chair, chains wrapped around me so it’s like I have a breast plate on. Strangely, it feels safe, me being hugged by the metal. Weird, that. Sometimes even nasty things can make you feel okay, especially when you’ve endured them before, when you know what’s coming. Familiarity, that’s what it is. The fear of the unknown is much worse—things coming at you out of the blue.
    But me in this chair? Ted’s done something similar, except he used rope. Said it was a sex game, that we were playing, but when he shoved his hard cock into my mouth and rammed in and out regardless of me trying to turn my head away, I knew it wasn’t any kind of game I wanted to play. Yet play I did. Better to have attention like that than none at all, right?
    Right?
    I know the answer to that now, and it isn’t yes. The months since I left Ted taught me that. The one-night stands, brief as they’d been, had never thrown up a monster. No man had his mental switch flicked and treated me like shit. People like Ted weren’t the majority, it just felt like it sometimes. I mean, Mum, my mates, Ted, all of them had turned out to be mean cunts in the end. I’d just been unlucky to encounter them all at once, that was all.
    And this guy here, this dream guy, he’s going to be a cunt as well. I know it just as I know I’m going to wake up to a better way of