Benjamin Tanner has lost it all. His wife is sleeping around, he is newly unemployed, and worst of all, he just lost his daughter to the great beyond. He has no purpose and nothing to live for-or so the voices tell him. The Red Devils hide the pain, but the pills are quickly turning against him.Voices chant of his demise. They're telling him to use the gun in his hand and end it all. Ben wanders the night in search for answers while the Red Devils burn his world into a twisted fantasy of good and evil. As the night progresses the Red Devils release their poison and Ben's mind swells with pain and anger. The revolver in his hand pulses with a wicked energy. By the end of the darkness, he may just use the gun on himself. At least it would make the voices stop; it would make the pain stop, too. How had it come to this? Why had he become the victim of so many pointless misfortunes? But Tanner is not alone. He is being chased by a gang of dark and vicious characters who wish him harm, but there are others-those who mean him well. They stand beside him and battle for his broken soul before the Red Devil's take over and it is too late. Follow Benjamin Tanner as he desperately searches for meaning in the emptiness and takes a final stand against his pain.

Red Devil

By Daniel James Franklin

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Daniel James Franklin
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4697-3855-0

Chapter One

The Voice

Beads of sweat trickled down my face, over my neck, and soaked into my shirt. My chest swelled with fear and my stomach ached with hunger. Particles of old, crusted food were dried and caked across my chapped lips. My hands were shaking with involuntary tremors that I couldn't seem to get rid of. My apartment reeked of mold and vomit that I failed to clean days earlier, and the smell was finally reaching my nose.

I was alone, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that someone else was in the house with me. Someone or something else was here, hiding in my small one bedroom apartment that I had trapped myself in for two weeks.

He was a sneaky bastard, almost like a rat, running around in the darkness. I could hear him rustling in my bedroom, his bright, slippery, red shoes clomping on the floorboards. He was definitely here, and he knew that I knew. He knew, and he was just waiting for me to step inside my own bedroom so he could crack me over the head with the crowbar he had concealed inside his tightly wrapped trench coat.

I could see him out of the corner of my eyes every so often, peaking out from my bedroom, beckoning me to walk straight into his ambush. He had to be about 6'2", weighing in at 230 pounds of pure threatening muscle. He was dressed in all black with a trench coat and a loosely fitted hat that looked like it belonged to a scarecrow. He was a shadow, a black patch that danced across my walls taunting me; torturing me. He would be the end of me ...

I sat on the living room couch, my body sinking into the cushions. My breaths were coming in slow gasps. I listened for a moment. I could hear the intruder whispering something to me. It was faint at first. I held my breath and the words came clear.

"Turtles!" the intruder hissed.

I leapt up from my living room couch, my fists in front of my face. I glanced around the room. I had been hearing the intruder's voice ever since I locked myself in my apartment two weeks ago, yet I couldn't find a body to place it with.

My living room fell completely silent. For a moment the intruder wasn't making any noise. The single lamp in the corner of my apartment flicked on and off, casting shadows of different objects across the walls, and for second I saw the shadow of the man rushing towards me.

"Get back!" I shrieked. "Stay away from me!"

I stumbled back, away from the shadow as it came toward me. My feet tripped over themselves and I fell back against my front door. I curled up into a tiny ball and cried for help. The shadow halted and stared. He opened his mouth but no words came. Then there was a hissing. A soft murmur that sounded like a snake was in the room.

"Turtles!" it hissed again.

I gasped and grabbed the sides of my head and then shook it violently.

This will take care of that voice! This will make it go away!

I fell to one knee and let my head go. The room was silent once again. No sounds except for my heavy breathing.

"He's ... he's gone," I said to myself. "It's gone!"

Then, like a rising wave, the voice came again with swelling anger, "TURTLES!"

I cursed the voice and shook my fists at the air. I screamed, "Shut up! Just shut up!"

I sprinted from my lonely corner by the doorway and into the kitchen. Where ever the intruder was, I was going to kill him. His taunting had gone on far too long and it was time to end his life before I ended mine.

I don't even like turtles!

The intruder was trying to break me down. He was trying to drive me insane. I wouldn't let him. But had he already succeeded? There was no one in my apartment but me, yet I was hearing voices, seeing shadows, and imagining an intruder.

I've already gone insane ...

"I'll get rid of you for good!" I shouted.

Tears poured down my face and mixed with the sweat that I had accumulated. I felt exhausted from the sleepless nights, but my body moved with strict purpose; moving only to find the man inside my house so I could slice his throat wide open.

I rampaged into the kitchen with my fists clenched. I grabbed the nearest cabinet door to me and pulled as hard as I could. The wooden base tore from its hinges and hung in my hands. I tossed it to the floor and quickly grabbed the next cabinet door. I ripped each door off of its metal hands and threw them to the ground, hoping to find something inside.

Cups, plates, and bowls stared blankly back at me, as if asking, "What the hell are you doing?"

Frustrated, I shoved my hands into the now open cabinets and grabbed all the glass dishes I could hold. I pulled them all out and let them crash to the floor. The glass shattered and pierced the eerie silence that once was. As the glass settled around my feet my rage only grew. I would find no comfort until I found this intruder.

I continued ripping off the rest of the cabinet doors and screamed warnings to the intruder that I would tear my entire apartment apart to find him.

Then I heard him. A soft cackle rose from my bedroom. I froze. The laughter continued and a voice finally whispered eerily, "I'm in here!"

I walked out of the kitchen, my face glistening with tears. The bastard was in my room. He was hiding in there somewhere, and I was going to find him.

The bedroom door was closed and locked from the inside. I hadn't been in there for the last week for fear the intruder would beat me to death with his crowbar, but this was enough. I was finally going to face him.

I kicked the center of my bedroom door and watched as it flew open. Inside, something darted deep into the darkness, desperately trying to find a place to hide. I could see a pair of red shoes scrambling across the floor. This was it.

This bastard is as good as dead!

I cautiously reached inside my bedroom and blindly grabbed at the dresser that was against the closest wall. I grabbed the handle to the top drawer and pulled until it fell out. I brought it close to my chest and searched through the contents inside, my eyes never leaving the entrance to my bedroom. My hand sifted through year old papers, and long lost keys until I reached the true treasure of the rectangular box.

I grasped a shiny metallic handle of a large shimmering revolver that was loaded with six fine hallow tip bullets. I dropped the drawer to the floor, the contents spewing around my feet. I stood tall and proud with my new found friend inside the palm of my right hand. My finger began to wrap around the trigger as I pointed the gun at my own face. I stared down the metal tube and blinked in confusion.

What am I doing? Never mind that, just do what you have to do!

"I've got a gun!" I yelled into the room as a warning.

With one motion I stepped inside and flicked on the light switch. I aimed at every shadow on the wall, hoping that one of them was the intruder, but none of the dark blotches made a move.

My room was untouched as it had been when I locked it two weeks before. The bed was neatly made, the floor was spotless, and the blinds were pulled shut.

No one is here? This can't be! He's in here somewhere. The man who's responsible for destroying my life, the man who took everything away from me is here!

I flipped my mattress off of its bed frame and aimed down. Nothing but the floor, nothing but the damn floor.

The closet! He must be in...