But in a good way. Here is the first victim chapter from Mutilated Dreams. It is unedited and possibly, unfinished. Comments welcome.
Brady Wilchek sat on the edge of the hospital bed. He refused to look into any of the mirrors. His brain was frantically searching for some sort of memory to help his situation. However, it was only drudging up memories regarding how he used to look.
His days of getting the girls was over. The dazzling smile wouldn’t overshadow the terrible scars. Long, lazy days on the beach were a thing of the past. Even if he did adjust to the face, he’d never be able to take his shirt off in public again.
His father’s pasty, potbellied body flashed in his mind, but cruelly stuck his own face on it. Evan Wilchek liked his wine and his women. His money assured him that some buxom beauty was always hanging from his arm, but that wasn’t the life Brady had intended to lead.
In Brady’s future had been a beautiful wife, not exactly a trophy wife as his father preferred, but a beauty all the same. He would have worked in a corporate law office as one of the good looking junior partners. He’d envisioned yachts, vacation homes, and children. His wife would have been smart as well as beautiful. She’d be willing to stay home with the children, possibly even home schooling them, since there was no doubt his children would be intelligent.
All of that was gone. His life would require his wife to be impressed by his money, not his looks or charm. She’d probably have too much plastic surgery and she’d be a bimbo. He wouldn’t get a job in law, he didn’t have the looks. Lawyers were good looking and he now looked like Dr. Frankenstein had patched him together. He didn’t have a fall back career. He guessed he’d end up working behind the scenes at one of his father’s stupid hotels. The days would be spent miserably staring at the sea just yards away, but it might as well be miles, since he’d never set foot upon the sandy beaches of the Florida Keys again.
Kids were also out. While he imagined money would buy him time with his wife, he doubted it bought him breeding rights. They’d have to adopt. Unfortunately, no one was going to let a monster like him adopt a child. His looks would traumatize the poor kid.
Without children, his wife would get a stupid little dog that fit in a stupid little purse and she would carry him around, all the time, taking him everywhere. Brady would feel the burden. Those kinds of women existed when their husbands couldn’t fill some void that needed filling, like producing children.
Some gang of thugs had ruined his life. Their envy of his looks, of his money, of his talents, of his opportunities had been vast enough to cause them to do this. Or maybe they had done it just because they could. Had his friends forgotten him someplace? Or perhaps his friends had done this to him. He was the alpha of the group; a position dictated by his superior looks and deep pockets.
His mind reeled as it tried to comprehend how this had happened to him. He vaguely remembered going to a club, but everything after that was blank. He didn’t know if there had been anything special about the club or if his friends had gone with him. He wasn’t even sure why he had gone to it, they were here for a wedding, not to go clubbing.
The wedding consumed his thoughts. He was the best man. Had it already happened? Had Pete and Andrea already gotten married? He didn’t know what day it was. Or if it had been postponed due to his absence. Surely, Pete hadn’t gone through with a wedding where his best man was missing. That would be a shitty thing to do. Although, if Pete hadn’t, he’d have to find a new best man. There was no way that Brady could be the best man now. He’d look awful in all the wedding photographs.
At twenty-four, Brady wasn’t ready for his life to be over, but he didn’t see any good coming of his situation. His entire life had hinged on law school and he had been accepted. The college would no doubt revoke that now. They wouldn’t want someone who looked like him running around their campus.
He let his head fall onto the gown that covered his chest. The gown covering the wounds hurt. Yet, he couldn’t stand the idea of people looking at them. He sighed and closed his eyes. There were good plastic surgeons in Florida. He doubted they could help. However, he’d contact them and see what could be done. Anything was an improvement. Once he had been fixed as much as possible, he might be able to get a somewhat cute girl. She wouldn’t be the woman he wanted, but cute would do. Someone cute might be willing to have sex with him and not make it all about the money. Yeah, cute might work. If it didn’t, he’d fall back on his wallet to get a woman he could tolerate.