Netted- The Beginning
Netted
The Beginning
K. T. Rose
Copyright
Netted- The Beginning
Copyright © 2019 by K. T. Rose
All rights reserved.
The stories characters and incidents mentioned in this publication are entirely fictional.
The transmission, duplication, or reproduction of any of the following work including specific information will be considered an illegal act irrespective of if it is done electronically or in print. This extends to creating a secondary or tertiary copy of the work or a recorded copy and is only allowed with express written consent from the Publisher. All additional right reserved.
Written by: K. T. Rose
Edited by: Gerald Rice, Paul Ryan, and Amanda Williams
Cover by: Oliviaprodesign
Table of contents
Copyright
Table of contents
About Netted- The Beginning
About the Author
Dedication
Dale
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Jessica
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Dale
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
More from K. T. Rose
About Netted- The Beginning
Welcome to The Silent Red Room, where your imagination is only a Bitcoin away.
When Dale uses a dating app to get over his ex, he connects with Marla, a beautiful eccentric. All is well and good…until they meet in person.
Meanwhile, Jessica, a troubled teen, takes to surfing the darknet to fulfill her ever-growing curiosity. Within its labyrinthine vastness, she discovers Father Paul, a sinister figure who uses creative methods of torture to please his rich audience. Her dreams of meeting her hero soon come true, but not in the way she hoped.
Will Dale and Jessica survive when they’re pulled into the cyber mass known as the darknet? Or are they already lost to The Silent Red Room, a horrific place amongst the darknet's web of horrors?
The Silent Red Room, making the underbelly of the internet a better place, one missing person at a time.
About the Author
K. T. Rose is a horror, thriller, and dark fiction writer from Detroit, Michigan. She posts suspense and horror flash fiction on her blog at kyrobooks.com and is the author of a gruesome, suspenseful short story series titled A Trinity of Wicked Tales, an erotic thriller novel titled When We Swing, and The Silent Red Room horror/ technothriller saga.
Dedication
To Markeith.
Dale
Chapter 1
“Well, don’t you look rough,” Dale grumbled to himself as he ran his left hand along his jawline. His tanned reflection smiled back at him in the sun visor mirror.
He slid his peacoat off his shoulders and unbuttoned his collar.
“Shit,” he muttered. The last thing he wanted was yellow pit stains on his best polo. That I just left the gym excuse wouldn’t hold up. He’d given up on that years ago when he realized he couldn’t hold muscle for shit. He’d spend hours lifting weights, galloping on the treadmill and eating nothing but red meat, milk and eggs only for his body rip the protein to bits, leaving him slender. Dale rolled the window down and grimaced as the evening’s frosty gusts brushed against his face.
A cold sweat broke out across his forehead. Dale ran the back of his hand over it, then huffed. As if this fleshy pink slash over my right eye helps, he thought. He didn’t expect it would disappear with the stitches just being removed a couple days ago. He remembered vividly how Dr. Martinez glared accusingly at him, his head tilted, eyes peering at him over purple frames.
“Still a little too short to be playing hockey, don’t you think?” Dr. Martinez asked.
Dale had snickered then, and told the doctor that he would wait for the bill in the mail. Hospital bills were like any other bill: expected and unavoidable. But that was the cost of playing physical sports every season.
Dale bound his fingers and flicked at his hair, raking it over the laceration above his brow. He scoffed. One minute, blades sliced up the ice as everyone raced over to Dale. The match had been neck-and-neck with the Big Rapids Badgers. Had Dale missed the puck, the Badgers would've tied. But he didn’t and his team, the Grand Rapids Grenades, had taken the victory by one. The team leaped and shouted as they raised him up high. He punched the air, rooted, and laughed. The dome boomed, full of their excited voices. Then, in the midst of all the celebrating, Jerry hurled his ice skate over the huddle, and it landed blade first into Dale’s face. He relived the aftermath whenever he laid down for the night; a dull flash right before a numbing darkness eased him into a deep sleep.
Some guys just don’t know how to lose with dignity, Dale thought
He flipped the visor into the ceiling, then glared up the block. The street could’ve been hosting a tacky light show with all the bling and glitz from the Christmas lights and décor that hung from most roof trims and awnings. For the most part, the houses appeared nearly identical under the street lights: all brick and varying shades of brown, single floored, with cars and SUVs sitting in most driveways. Iced over yards gleamed as much as the roads; the same roads Dale’s tires grumbled and slid across the entire ride in. Lake-effect ruled the weather in Western Michigan. Blizzards, high winds, and sometimes ice storms were normal for early December. It was a way of life here: a promise kept by nature every November through April. Ask anyone out on the lakefront and they'd confirm that frozen cheeks and numb fingertips were more welcome than a dog-swooping hurricane or a house fileting wildfire any day.
He rested his eyes on the residence opposite the curb. The empty driveway led up to a dark house. A thick shadow hung over, protecting it from the holiday cheer that consumed most of its neighbors.
His heartbeat quickened. What if she forgot? What if she’s not there? What if she’s… ugly?
He smirked.
Marla was in there. He was certain she was. Maybe she was lying down. Naked. It’d be a replica of the pictures in his phone’s photo gallery: her lavender eyes low while she rubbed herself.
Dale’s palms went clammy. Meeting a girl this way wasn’t unheard of. Going Out. An app that got people laid. It was as grotesque as getting a prostitute. The only difference was that this way was free.
But who picks up girls at bars anymore?
He grunted.
***
“Your Big Thirty will be so much fun,” Diane said over Monday coffee at Jinx’s Café. “Five more months and we’re in Vegas.”
Dale twirled his spoon, sprinkling the tabletop with remnants of cocoa. Diane snatched napkins from the dispenser and wiped up the spill.
“Aren’t you excited?” she asked with a wide smile.
He half grinned and nodded, then winced. The pale sun burst through every bay window, painting the diner yellow.
“Good!” she said. “You’re still bringing a date, right?”
“A date?” he asked, perplexed.
“Yeah. I got me one.” She rocked her hips side-to-side in the booth across from him.
“Who? Your husband you want to divorce?” Dale asked.
“Oh, shut up. Me and Lance are doing good.” Diane stopped dancing.
“Does he know that?”
“Does he know what?”
“Anything? Does he know anything?”
Amusement crossed her face. She buried her smile in her pale cashmere sleeve. Her burst
of laughter sounded like a smoker holding back a cough.
“Come on, Brother. I’m serious,” she said, climbing down from her high.
“No. No date.”
“Why not?” Diane’s almond eyes frowned.
Dale scrunched his face. “They couldn’t get us a table with blinds?”
“Don’t change the subject,” Diane said, fussing with her silver bangles. “You need to move on.”
“I’m fine, Sis,” he said smoothly.
“No, you’re not,” Diane mimicked.
“How?”
“Because all you talk about is Sasha. It’s like you have no interest in the world around you. Your face is always in your phone.” She cupped her mug with both hands and brought it to her lips. Then, with discerning eyes, said, “She’s not coming back, ya know.”
His stomach turned.
Sasha. Damn Facebook had a way of putting her at the top of his feed. Her plump lips or thin arms all over some pale asshole.
A lucky asshole.
“It’s been six months,” Diane pointed out. “Get a new girl.”
“And why does it bother you that I’m not ready?”
“Because you’re not waiting on someone else to come along. You’re waiting on something old to come back. It’s not happening. Move on. Now I’ve been patient… but this has to stop.”
Dale cringed. He never had to say a word around Diane. She always knew. Some of Sasha’s amateur paintings still hung on his bedroom wall. Her toothbrush sat in the Superman mug by the bathroom sink. Her number was still saved under ‘babe’. Whenever the thing sounded, he’d look with eager eyes. One day, it’d be her calling.
Tough titty, he thought as he pushed his full mug against the glass salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the table. The smell of chocolate steam had become unbearable.
Diane sighed and combed her crinkled dark hair with clutched fingers. “I mean, look at you, Dale. For starters, Calvin’s back.”
Dale stroked his hairy chin. Calvin’s tail had reached his chest. “Oh, you don’t like Calvin anymore?” He grinned.
“You look like a modish hippie.”
Dale wiped the back of a hand across his dampening forehead. Then, he tugged at his leather cuffs, freeing his arms. “Calvin’s done nothing to deserve such an unwelcome attitude.”
“Don’t bullshit me. The last time Calvin visited was two years ago and then eight years before that.” She dropped her glare to her coffee. “When Mom and Dad died.”
“Nobody died if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.
“I know.” She looked at him pleadingly. “That’s the problem. I think this break up is killing you.”
“Diane, I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“How come?” he said. Why can’t she let this go?
“Because you’re only fine when people die.”
He cocked his head. “No, I’m not,” he argued.
Diane rolled her eyes. “There was that night the cops showed up to the house. Remember? We were fighting over the PlayStation controller while we waited for that slow ass pizza guy. Anyway, when they broke the news, I crumbled to my knees and you stood there, wordless. You just stared. When you spoke a couple days later, it was only to console me. I’d always ask if you’re okay and you’d say, ‘I’m fine’. You did the same thing when Nana stopped breathing after the heart transplant not even a couple of years ago.” She twisted her wedding ring. “You’re not fine when you say you’re fine.”
Dale snickered and pulled his coat over his shoulders. An older couple shuffled through the door, letting in a crisp wind. The man wrapped his arm around the woman’s waist as they used his copper cane to balance their steps. Dale wondered if that’d be him with the next love of his life one day. Or would he die alone?
“Look, you’re my only family. I can’t have you moping around,” Diane said.
His shoulders slumped. She had a way of scrubbing him in guilt. Diane was the only person on Earth he had to look out for. If Sasha were to call, she would make person number two once again. She’d leave that guy and come back to him. Maybe even marry him.
Or not. He’d missed that chance. That’s all she wanted after all. Change. Evolution. But why fix something that’s not broken? But if having her back meant a second chance at presenting her with a ring, he’d do it without the months’ worth of arguing and the teary-eyed pleas for her stay. He’d buy her fifty fucking rings if that meant she’d come back.
It was too late for that now.
Sasha seemed happier without him. But she wasn’t the only one who could paint on a fake smile and take pictures with a nobody. Dale could do it too.
“So, what do you suggest, Sis? Go to a bar and ask a girl if she wants to see my dick?”
Diane giggled. “No, asshole. That’s a good way to get acid thrown into your face.”
“Well?”
“Use Going Out. “
“Okay, and what is that?”
“You’ve never heard of it?”
“No. Never.”
“Damn, kid. You gotta get out more. Get it?”
He scowled.
She giggled. “Remember Marisa?”
“Thick, tall chick?”
“Yeah. She went on six dates and now she’s going steady with an accountant. All from an app. It’s like getting a date from your thumbs.”
“What are you, the head of marketing? Jeez, it’s like every time I see you, you’re sharing an ad.”
Diane laughed. “Wait until I tell you about this new toothpaste I’ve been using.”
“No thanks. I used that Asian clay on my athletes’ foot that you suggested and broke into hives.”
“Oh whatever. Anyway, are you going to try it?”
His brow furrowed. “Diane, I don’t do online dating. It’s for pricks and twats. I’d rather—”
“Wait for Sasha?”
“No. I mean—”
“Calvin?”
“Sis, I—"
Diane scoffed. “God, Dale. Sasha’s making you soft.”
“Come on, Sis,” he said.
“I think you should try. I mean—” Her voice lowered. “It doesn’t have to be anything serious. Get a bang buddy. You know, someone to get your feet wet. Boost your confidence. Give you a reason to kill Calvin.”
“Calvin’s done nothing wrong,” Dale said.
Diane’s face straightened. “He reminds me of loss and depression.”
Online dating was a crapshoot. It was like a Pandora’s Box full of anal beads and STDs. But he had to get back out there, and this was the first step forward.
“How’d you find out about this app? You used it?” he asked.
“I’ve never used it because I’m not lonely. I know about it because I go out. I have a social life.” She chuckled, then she sipped her coffee. “But you’d rather play video games or laze around in bed when you’re not at work. You’re so lame now.”
“Whoa, with the name calling, Sis. Sasha’s not turning me into a lame.”
Diane squinted at him. “Really? Having trouble finishing that cocoa?”
Dale huffed. Once again, she nailed it. The thought of the break-up and the mention of Sasha’s name made him nauseous. Food and drinks wouldn’t go down even if he forced it. He was out of acts for the charade.
Diane giggled. “Get a new girl, Brother. A guy like you deserves it. Promise you’ll try it?”
Dale grabbed the handle of the eggshell mug and stirred. He stared into the foggy creamer as it swirled and floated. Was it that obvious he was stuck? In high school, chicks flocked to him. Even still after hockey games. At work. After work. The thought of being with another girl made his tongue feel stale.
But it was time to stop waiting for nothing. The next girl would be stunning, one-upping Sasha in every category. For a girl like that, he couldn’t be rusty. Dale sighed. “Sure.”
Diane leaned over and fished through her toddler-sized duffle bag.
“Why do you use that thing? You never find what it´s carrying around,” Dale said.
They laughed.
“Dad hated Mom’s bags,” Diane said. “I wish I could hear him say that again right before she’d go after him.”
“Oh, shut the hell up, Danny. I don’t know why you have those bikes. Your fat ass ain’t gon’ use ‘em,” Dale imitated in Mom’s light raspy voice.
Diane chuckled. “Mom was always quick with the comebacks.”
“But oh, the irony,” he said solemnly.
Diane cleared her throat and shook her head with a frantic twitch as if to push off an oncoming wave of depression as she continued to dig through her back.
“I guess you can say I miss them too, Sis. They’d be happy to see what you’ve grown into. Nana would be too.”
She pulled out her leopard print wallet and held it up. “Found it!” She unzipped it and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “My treat. Use your money to get rid of that debacle on your chin and go on dates.”
“Yes, Mom.”
She slid from the booth. “I’m serious.”
Dale chuckled as she pulled her puffer coat over her shoulders. It swallowed her from her neck to her shins.
“Shut up. It’s cold out,” she said. “I wish I could chat longer, but I have a lecture tonight.” She tossed an evergreen and white State scarf around her neck, cheeks, and button nose.
“Math 101. Freshman class?” Dale asked.
She scoffed. “More like a bunch of fucking idiots. Anyway, Mom and Dad’s plot this Saturday?” She pulled her tote strap over her shoulder and headed for the door. “Don’t forget. And make sure you start that profile, because if you don’t, I’ll do it for you. Love you. Bye!”
Diane nodded goodbye to the waitress and winked back at him before fading into the pale sunlight and thick, flying snowflakes.
***
Three weeks and several messages later, Dale sat in front of Marla’s. Questions plagued his mind: How’d he get sucked in? What was he doing at this girl’s house? How come Sasha got to be happy with someone else so quickly?