Michele A. Bicknell
This book is a psych thriller. It's very deep and twisted. It's a dysfunctional love triangle. It's a story about a little boy who was a victim from the time of conception. A web of lies and deceit. Unwanted surprises... sex and violence. A little boy who didn't stand a chance in life. One who was victimized by his mother and step-father. He learns to draw his strength from it. Destroying the evil in his pathetic young life, he turns the tables and creates his own world of fantasy. But one day, his past comes back to haunt him.
And so the killings begin!
With each of the killings, can Clifford postpone the inevitable, or will the past swoop down and devour him? Could there be any truth to the saying: "What goes around comes around?" When it does, will it strike you ten-fold?
With every word you read, you will see what my characters see. You will feel what my characters feel. You will hear what my characters hear. You will smell what my characters smell and you will taste the fear that each of my characters taste in their final moment.
You will feel Clifford's strength, both physically and mentally. You will come to love the boy within the man. In the end you will understand what lurks in the mind of a victim who chooses to cross over that delicate line. Never to return to a world of logic, peace and understanding. Reality isn't quite the same for a victim, for their reality is a world full of paranoia, hallucinations, grandeur and yes... at times even death!
Michele is a native of Missouri. She has worked at St. Anthony's Medical Center-Hyland Behavioral Health (Psychiatric) since 1979. It's no wonder that she chose a psych-thriller for her first novel. She's been married for the past twenty-nine years and has two sons. Her mother once told her that first you fall in love, and then you get married and have children. You raise your children and then if you want a career, you choose one! As the saying goes, the rest is history...
It's been a life long dream of hers to create and put together that "Great American Novel" that as a child she was always hearing about. As a child, she was always fascinated with books and Hollywood 's greatest movies. She was mesmerized by the creativity and the fantasy brought to her through the minds of some of the world's greatest writers. She longed to be a part of the world of fantasy in a creative sense. This year she becomes a part of that world, as her dream comes true. Most people dream of creating that "Great American Novel." Michele not only dreamed it... she did it!
"You look so real to me Jennifer," he whispered, as he leaned his head on the poster. He placed a kiss on her lips, and then another. Soon she became more real to him and he began touching himself. He unzipped his pants and moved his body closer to the poster. "Look what you do to me Jennifer," he said, as he rubbed his throbbing organ on the poster. "Can you feel what I'm doing to you Jennifer," he whispered in her ear. He began licking her face in rhythm with his lower body movement. Before long, the poster was no longer just a likeness of her, but the real thing. Warm and tender--soft to the touch--wet and willing. He was so in tune with what he was doing, that he didn't hear his mother walk up behind him.
"You sick bastard! Put that thing back in your pants!" she shouted.
"Mother! Oh God, I can't believe you caught me like this!" He was frantic. His mother always got angry when she caught him playing with his little demon. Suddenly he felt filthy. This time when he looked at Jennifer she was no longer real to him. She was just a life-size poster hanging on the wall. He was deeply saddened by the reality of it all. His mother was the cause of his sadness. She always had to spoil things for him. He was a little boy again. Lost, alone and frightened. What was he to do? Worst yet, what would "Mommy Dearest" do?
"I wouldn't have to keep coming back Clifford..."
"But you do Mommy, you keep coming back, and you make me do bad things," he said in a child's voice. "Why do you make me do such bad things Mommy?" He wouldn't look at her. He couldn't, she frightened him so.
"I keep coming back because you can't keep your mind on business. Ever since that little tramp wiggled her way into your life..."
"Stop calling my Jennifer dirty names! She's not a tramp, she's a lady and you can't handle it!" Clifford was so angry with his mother, that for the first time since she had come back into his life, he stood his ground with her. He was the man, a tower of strength. He was no longer the child who had suffered years of abuse at the hands of his mother and step-father. Never again would he allow her to beat him down and strip him of his self-respect, or so he thought. But that was just another fantasy in his mind. Unfortunately, his fantasy was short lived.
"What have I told you about cutting me off when I'm speaking to you Clifford!
But he didn't answer her. He tried so hard to fight the fear inside and to stand his ground. However, he found that his newfound courage was no match for his mother's evilness. In the end she would win, just as she always did.
"Are you listening to me Clifford?" She grew angrier each second that he ignored her.
But still he said nothing. He stood there before her rocking back and forth, staring at the floor. His arms were crossed in front of him. He was closing himself off to her. Was this perhaps a show of defiance? Maybe... maybe not! It was indeed defiance, but in a cowardly passive way. Should the truth be known, Clifford was actually clutching his shirt so tightly, that his knuckles turned white. Every child has a security blanket. Psychologically, his shirt became that blanket. An invisible shield to protect him from what was yet to come.
"Look at me Clifford! Look at me!" she demanded.
The windows in his room were closed and yet a gust of wind came from out of nowhere and swirled around them. A sound of fury pierced through the room. When Clifford looked at his mother, her beauty seemed to fade. Just as he feared, her evilness began to flow from within. She stood before him completely naked. She was sheer perfection, but only momentarily. Then her body changed form. A force of darkness pierced through her eyes. She was floating. Blood began to flow from her body. Clifford was frozen in place briefly, but before long, he was on the floor in a fetal position. Broken and consumed with guilt and fear as the blood flowed in his direction. Surrounding him. Engulfing him. Like a hand it reached inside and ripped out his heart. He was no longer whole. In fact, he wasn't even half a child. He was like a newborn baby. He was vulnerable and at the mercy of his evil captor.
