Authors: A.T Smith
Reader- Katie Stead
Cover Photo- Supranee Reed
Copyright© 2014 A.T
Published by A.T Smith
All Rights reserved.
Author holds all rights to this work. Any copying, selling or sharing of the
work without consent is illegal, legal action will be taken if these conditions
I would like to express my upmost gratitude to a fantastic friend
who has slaved away editing Total LockDown for me. Katie Stead you are a star
and one in a million.
My thanks go to all the of the girls on my street team, you
are all amazing and I love you all for the continuous support you give me.
Lastly I would like to thank my family and boyfriend for once
again putting up with my compulsion to write, write, write. I could never thank
you all enough for never standing in my way and always encouraging my ideas and
creativity. I love you all with my entire heart.
This world is never long enough for one person. Recently I discovered
an old friend, from school is suffering with the hideous disease we all know as
cancer. He is my own age, twenty-one. He is having his second lot of brain
surgery and telling cancer to go do one. I want everyone to join in with him
and the entire world to kick cancer’s arse.
Reece Hawley, you are truly a warrior of this world. People may
box, people may fight wars, but above them all you are the real hero and
survivor, you hold the strength within you that none of us are even privy too. I
will admire you ‘til the day I cease to live. There will never be a day that
passes that I won't think of how incredible you are, how determined and strong
I have known and lost some of my closest friends to cancer,
but none of them have the willpower you do. Nothing seems to knock you down.
There aren’t enough words in the English vocabulary to
express my gratitude to you, someone who doesn't give up, doesn’t use any
excuse to live their lives. You prove to us all, no matter who you are, how
well you are or how rich you are, there is a life to live.
This book is dedicated to you. To everything you are and
everything you will continue to be.
Reece, your own hero, the world’s hero, MY hero.
Ariana Temperance Smith
“Survival can be summed up in three
never give up.
That's the heart of it really.
Just keep trying.”
I’m sat in my car and the heater is blowing full force onto
my face. The chill outside, icing the pavement up, is trying its hardest to
break through the metal casing of my Bentley. My very core is cold, frost
bitten and frozen over. My heart is pounding an unsteady rhythm against my
ribcage, every pound of it penetrating my eardrums, another reminder of the
anger inside of me. I can feel the metal grip of my beloved glock, digging into
my back as I’m thrown back into the chair from the sheer power of my car.
My foot is pushed fully to the carpeted floor, the
speedometer soaring as every painful second ticks by. The dingy brick buildings
of London are dissipating into the beautiful, green rolling hills of Surrey.
These are hills I once found warming and homely, now just tormenting reminders
of what awaits for me. The very thought of walking back into
there, holding my beautiful,
baby girl in her
arms, makes me physically sick. If Melissa wasn’t the spitting image of me,
intense green eyes and a mop of dark blonde hair, then I wouldn’t even believe
she was mine. If Abigail is able to fuck the man that nearly killed her, our
my best friend, then I was clearly mistaken about the kind
of woman she is.
I keep praying to God, that there is some simple
explanation, that this is just one fucked up misunderstanding or even maybe a terrible
dream. I hope somehow that Abigail’s image had been manipulated into those
recordings, but the more I think about that being the answer, the more I
realise how naïve and stupid I was.
How fucking selfish is she? After everything I have given
her, everything I’ve done for her, she throws everything back into my face so
Those violent thoughts from earlier still filter through my
brain. Phillip or Abigail? Who did I seriously want to take all of this anger
out on? Phillip had gone too far, as usual, but Abigail had committed the
biggest betrayal I deem feasible. To top it off, not only did she fuck the
prick, but she did it with
child inside of her blossoming stomach.
I shake my head to clear it, to give myself some control
I don’t really want to kill Abbi. Sure, the thought makes me
feel fantastic, fucking ecstatic in fact; I feel the anger strong enough to
pursue it right now. I know I’d feel closure and a little better by putting a
bullet in the pair of them, but I know I’d regret killing her, she was the
mother of my child after all, and other than that blip with screwing Phillip,
she was a damn good mum.
I really don’t know how I am supposed to deal with this
overdrive of feelings and thoughts of her right now; I don’t want to see her
ever again. Just thinking of her makes my heartache something fierce, it may as
well be on the road beneath my tires, the burning rubber squashing over it and
leaving it in a bloody pile, like it feels in my chest cavity now.
The only option I have right now, to save myself further heartache,
is pay Phillip a little visit. The prick won’t even know what hit him, or shot
him I should say.
Right now, I have no worries to my safety, if he shoots me
first, kills me in cold blood, it will easier and less painful to me, than what
I am feeling right now.
I don’t want the guys in on this one, even though I know
full well they’ll kick my arse for making them miss out on an opportunity to
get creative with Phillip, but I don’t need them seeing me so weak over
somebody else, to know that somebody has affected me so severely my life meant
I wish I had listened to Scott a little more. I repeatedly
think back to the time he had treated Abbi like a piece of meat, talked to her
like all she was good for was a hole to shove his cock into. Maybe if I had
followed his tactics, as well as my own usual form of attack and just fucked
the shit out of her, like the slut she clearly is, I wouldn’t be in this
situation right now. I wouldn’t be risking my own life by going in without
backup, just so I can have the satisfaction of looking into Phillips eyes as I
splatter his head over the walls of his
I know, with one hundred percent certainty, if I was to go
to Abigail right now, I won’t be able to control myself. Abbi knows of one of
my identities, the one I want her to see, the one that’s not really who I am. I
have wined and dined her, treated her like a
, hidden the nasty
and malicious side of me as much as I could. She has no clue as to how many
people I have killed, men and women alike, it doesn’t matter, if there’s a job
and I’m paid the right money then my glock is willing to part with a round or
two. She doesn’t know of the thrill and pleasure I get out of seeing the blood
drain from their petrified faces and how much I enjoy doing what I do.
Abigail has no clue, whatsoever, that every day when I come
home from work, where she thought I was doing paperwork, I was actually in the
field, with my men, or some of them at least, killing anyone who fucked with
me, anyone who got in my way or interfered with the job at hand. She doesn’t
even know the real reason I am not in contact with my family is that they
refuse to associate with me, associate with the
cover up so easily.
I have never once delayed in pulling the trigger or plunging
a knife into someone’s carotid artery, and I haven’t once regretted or thought
twice about it afterwards. Then I go home, clean myself off, and fuck my
beautiful woman like the good little slut I now know her to be.
I put my thumb to the control on my steering wheel, turning
the CD player up loud to an ear splitting level. If an ambulance or cop car is
behind me, wanting to pass, I won’t hear the sirens, and do you know what, I
couldn’t give a shit, not in the damn slightest. Guns ‘n’ Roses ‘Welcome to the
jungle’ is playing through the speakers, penetrating my body, causing me to
head bang to the bass drum.
I am closing in on the slip road for the industrial area in
which Phillip’s office is. He is a sneaky bastard for sure, trying to hide his
little business venture away from prying eyes. But I’m not a total idiot, I
have done my homework, well Thomas has done it for me. I know where everyone of
his men live, where they work, how much money and property they have and even
how many fucking kids they have, including those hidden away from their wives.
The thumping in my heart has slowed down and is now
tattooing a steady rhythm against my sternum. I have concluded what I will do
with Abbi. She is fucking off, I will buy her a house, sure, I wasn’t about to
leave my child without a home, but the girl is gone. I don’t want her anywhere
So, with one down and one to go, I take the third exit on
the roundabout off the arterial road, and follow the country lane towards the
industrial estate off Sycamore Street.
I can clearly see the huge sign for where I’m entering, most
of the buildings for sale or just scrubbed off. As I park my car into a nice
big space outside his office entrance, next to the huge shutters, I turn the
ignition off. The normal sense of excitement and animalistic adrenalin kicks in,
the sadistic smile frames my face like a damn Cheshire car. I take in a deep
breath and rub my hands up and down the contours on the surface.
I take my keys from the ignition and exit the car into the
dark winter night. The fresh, crisp air inflates my lungs and stimulates me. I
walk to the back of my car, popping the boot open to reveal the beautiful
leather case inside. I rub my hand over the smooth surface. God I love this
I click it open and inside sits my guns. Pristine, polished
and much needed. I remove two of them, sliding the clips into place and cocking
them ready. I slide one into the leg strap around my calf and the other in the
holster beside my ribs. The one in the back of my trousers still sits readily.
God they feel so good, the weight giving me a sense of pride
in my work. I thoroughly enjoy ridding this god-forsaken world of the vermin
that lies around. Within a few minutes, another wanker, hopefully more, will
bite the dust.
I close the case, clipping the locks back into place and
close the boot of my car with a nice loud slam. My fingers press firmly on the
key fob, illuminating the barren car park with orange lights.
I don’t bother making a sneaky entrance, I don’t need an
advantage. I pull the metal handle of the glass main door and yank it open. The
clean scent of disinfectant and bleach hits my nostrils.
My only thought, as I walk past the empty main desk, towards
the lit corridor is ‘the stupid fuck has an unattended reception’ and ‘I can’t
wait to smell the copper tinge in the air as I leave through this very