All Chapters of Where The Mind Breaks: Chapter 1
- Chapter 10
15 chapters
Chapter 1: The Ink
The call came with the rain.It always rained in his memories of Everfell. It wasn't the gentle kind of rain that made you want to stay in bed. This was a cold, needling drizzle that found every crack in the world, and every crack in a man. Nel watched it streak the grimy window of his workshop, listening to the fourth ring. He almost didn't answer. Nobody called him on this line except clients, and he wasn't in the mood for their precious first editions or water-damaged family bibles.He picked up. "Nel."A breath, shaky and wet-sounding, filled his ear. Then a woman's voice, tight with a fear he could feel through the wire. "Nel? It's me. Golda."His hand tightened on the receiver. Golda. The name was a ghost from a life he’d boarded up and abandoned. Her voice, usually so firm and sure, was frayed."Golda? What's wrong?""They're saying I'm crazy, Nel. They're saying I'm seeing things." Her words tumbled out in a rushed whisper. "I found it. The ledger. From the old mill. The ink..
Chapter 2: In The Rain
The rain in Everfell didn't fall, it clung. It was a wet, grey shroud that wrapped itself around the town, soaking into the old wood of the buildings and the souls of the people. Nel drove down the main street, his wipers fighting a losing battle against the relentless drizzle. Nothing had changed. The same tired-looking diner, the same hardware store with its faded paint, the same oppressive weight of the lake at the end of the road, hidden behind a curtain of mist.It was a town holding its breath.His first stop wasn't Golda's office. He couldn't face that yet. The image of her, alone on the floor with that terrible, final sound in his ear, was too fresh. He needed the key. He needed what she had left for him. It was the only thing that felt solid.The old movie house, "The Starlight," had been closed for a decade. Its marquee was a skeleton of dead lightbulbs and peeling letters. The alley beside it was choked with wet garbage and the smell of damp rot. His heart hammered against
Chapter 3: The Lie We Told
The Everfell Inn smelled of mothballs and regret. The room was a perfect echo of the town itself...damp, faded, and holding onto a past that was better off forgotten. Nel dropped his duffel bag on the floral-print quilt and went straight to the small, rattling window, peering through the grime-streaked glass. From here, he had a sliver of a view of the lake, a sheet of bruised steel under the weeping sky.Jason isn't your friend.Golda’s words were on a loop in his head, underscored by the Sheriff’s polite, unblinking eyes. A wellness check. He’d called Golda’s murder a wellness check.Nel’s fingers trembled as he pulled the lockbox from his bag. He laid its contents on the quilt, the old key, the childhood photograph, and Golda’s final, frantic note. I hid it where he'd never look. With the dead.The cemetery. It had to be. But where? There were hundreds of dead in Everfell. The key was old, heavy, tarnished brass. It didn't look like it fit a modern door. A crypt? A chest?His eyes
Chapter 4: The Weight Of A Memory
The rain was the only thing that moved. It fell in a steady, hushed whisper, blurring the world. The dark figure stood like a statue at Elias's grave, a hole of deeper blackness in the night. Nel pressed himself against the cold marble angel, the ledger digging into his ribs like a accusation. Every beat of his heart was a thunderclap in his ears. He was sure the figure could hear it.Move. Please, just move.As if hearing his silent plea, the figure turned away from the grave and began to walk, not towards the gate, but along the tree line, a slow, prowling pace. It was checking the perimeter. It was hunting.This was his only chance.Nel broke from behind the angel, staying low, weaving through the forest of headstones. He didn't head for the main gate. He aimed for the far southern wall, where an ancient oak had sent a thick branch sprawling over the top. It was a route he and Jason had used as teenagers to sneak out after dark.The wet grass silenced his footsteps, but every rustl
Chapter 5: What The Ledger Shows
The bolt slid back with a sound like a bone breaking. Nel opened the door just a crack, the chain lock still engaged. The woman, Silvera, didn't flinch. She simply held up one of the paper cups. The rich, bitter scent of coffee cut through the room's smell of damp and fear."Truce?" she said. Her eyes, a startling shade of grey-green, were direct. They held no false warmth, only a frank assessment."What did Golda tell you?" Nel's voice was rough, sandpapered by panic."That a man named Nel would come. That he was the only one who could understand. That he'd be scared, and probably not trust me." A faint, wry smile touched her lips. "She said to tell you it's about the garden. The poison garden."The phrase meant nothing to him. It could be a code, a test. He stared at her, his mind racing, weighing the risk. The ledger under the bed felt like it was emitting a radioactive glow. This woman knew Golda. She knew he was here. If she was a threat, she was already inside his defenses.He c
Chapter 6: A Trust Of Knives
The funeral was a farce dressed in black.The little church in Everfell was packed, the air thick with the smell of damp wool and false sentiment. Nel sat in the back pew, Silvera a silent, observant presence beside him. He felt like a trespasser at his own execution. Every glance from a mourner felt like an accusation. Every whispered condolence sounded like a lie.From the pulpit, Jason Demmys spoke. He wasn't in uniform, but a well-tailored black suit that screamed authority louder than a badge ever could."Golda Haines was a pillar of this community," he said, his voice a smooth, practiced baritone that carried easily through the hushed church. "A seeker of truth. It is a tragedy that in her final days, that very pursuit may have led her down a dark path... a path of confusion and despair."Nel’s hands clenched into fists on his knees. Confusion and despair. Jason was laying the final bricks in the wall of his narrative, sealing Golda’s coffin with the mortar of lies. He was paint
Chapter 7: The Second Coffin
The Demmys house was a museum to quiet power. Polished dark wood, mounted fish frozen in perpetual struggle, and a pervasive smell of old money and lemon polish. It was meant to intimidate, and it was working. Nel’s heart was a frantic drum against the tiny recorder in his breast pocket.“Drink?” Jason gestured to a crystal decanter on a sideboard.“No, thanks.” Nel’s voice was tight. He needed a clear head.Jason shrugged, refilling his own glass. “Suit yourself.” He led Nel into a study, a room lined with books that looked unread. A massive oak desk dominated the space. Hedge Demmys sat behind it, not in the chair, but on the edge, one hand resting on his cane. He didn’t look up as they entered.“Sit, son,” Hedge said, the word ‘son’ sounding like a threat.Nel sat in a stiff leather armchair, feeling like a defendant. Jason leaned against the desk, crossing his arms, the congenial host gone, replaced by the sheriff.“We’re concerned about you, Nel,” Jason began, his tone deceptivel
Chapter 8: The Sound In The Caves
Time seemed to slow, each raindrop a crystal bead in the lamplight. The hooded figure took another step, its boots making no sound on the wet pavement. Nel’s mind screamed at him to run, but his feet were rooted to the spot, frozen by a terror so complete it felt like a physical paralysis.He was going to die here, on this street, in the rain. Just like Golda.The figure raised a hand, not in a threat, but a gesture. A beckoning. Then it turned and melted back into the alley it had emerged from.It wasn’t an attack. It was an invitation. A command.His heart was a wild, trapped bird beating against his ribs. Every instinct told him to run in the opposite direction. But the figure knew who he was. It had been at the cemetery. It had something to say, or something to show him. And in the suffocating grip of the Demmys’ power, any other player, even a hostile one, was a variable. A chance.Gritting his teeth, his breath coming in ragged gasps, Nel followed.He stepped into the alley’s da
Chapter 9: My Father's Hand
The cave air was a cold, wet cloth pressed against Nel’s face. Alex’s confession hung between them, a shared, poisonous truth. A federal agent. A lost sister. It was too perfect, a narrative tailored to earn his trust. The part of Nel that was still a scared boy wanted to believe it, to hand over the ledger and let this capable, angry man wage the war.But the part of him that had seen the entry for “The Cleaner” held back.“Your sister,” Nel said, his voice echoing faintly in the chamber. “What was her name?”A flicker of something...irritation?...crossed Alex’s face. “Loi. Her name was Loi.” He pulled out his wallet and showed Nel a worn photograph of a smiling young woman with his same dark eyes. The grief in his face looked real. But in Everfell, everything looked real until it killed you.“I’m sorry,” Nel said, and he meant it.“The ledger, Tait. Where is it?” Alex’s urgency was back, a hunter’s focus.“It’s safe,” Nel deflected. “But Golda mentioned something else. A ‘poison gar
Chapter 10: The Poison Garden
The world had snapped into a different, harsher focus. The rain wasn't just rain anymore, it was a solvent, washing away the lies to reveal the ugly truth beneath. Nel walked back to the inn, the photograph a burning brand in his pocket. His father's face, that look of tortured complicity, was seared onto the back of his eyelids.He found Silvera in her room, bent over a microscope set up on the small desk. Various plant specimens, pressed and labeled, were laid out beside it. She looked up as he entered, her sharp eyes taking in his disheveled state, the grim set of his jaw.“What happened?” she asked, setting down a pair of tweezers.He didn’t speak. He just pulled the photograph from his pocket and laid it on the desk next to her microscope.Silvera looked down. She was silent for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she let out a slow, soft breath. “Oh, Nel.”“He sold her,” Nel said, his voice flat, dead. “My father. He sold my sister to the Demmys for ten thousand dolla