Can Two Wrongs Ever Make a Right?

The title question is the tag line for my most recent publication, You Belong To Me.
It’s got me thinking about cases in which people have tried to seek their own kind of justice for crimes committed against them, or someone they know. Trying to seek your own justice could be seen as trying to get revenge or to punish a wrong instead of using traditional forms of justice, such as the police.

There have many real life cases were people have planned and carried out their own form of justice. Consultant forensic psychologist, Dr Ruth Tully, explains…‘Many people who feel wronged in some way have thoughts of revenge, but most people don’t act these out. For those who cause serious harm, the need to “get back” at someone can be a powerful and personal motivator. The perceived need for revenge can magnify emotions so that the violence becomes gratuitous or sadistic, with the perpetrator more easily able to overlook victim distress. Revenge violence can be an act of emotional expression, or the perpetrator seeking to restore balance or justice to the world.’
Read more at https://www.lifedeathprizes.com/real-life-crime/shocking-revenge-crimes-from-around-the-world-40611#Lw6BGqI0tQrh1kag.99.

I also wondered what people’s opinion on the question was? Can two wrongs ever make a right? Yes or no? I asked members of some Facebook groups what they thought. Here are a few of their opinions:

‘I think they can. If the first wrong is perpetrated in an evil way, revenge or a serving of perhaps vigilante justice or removing a very bad person, can balance the books. If both acts are borne from pure evil, like a mafia type hit/ revenge then the answer is no.’
Patricia Dixon, author.

Another group member, author Lee Sherred, states that it’s only natural that people people take the law into their own hands with the Police struggling to provide the service that is expected of them. He then says:  ‘The trouble with that is, to do so you need to know without doubt that the person is guilty. Unfortunately, most responses are something along the lines of “well, it said he was a paedo on Facebook innit” and some poor bloke ends up in intensive care fighting for his life simply because he told some kids to stop breaking into a car and, to get back at him, they spread malicious rumours (true story and sadly not an uncommon one).’

Author Barry Faulkner remembers a serious crime that occurred in London and comments: ‘When Ben Kinsella was murdered in East London the police met a wall of silence. Then the Adam’s crime family who’s turf it was on said publicly that the killers would be dealt with by the ‘family’ if they didn’t hand themselves in. They handed themselves in within 48 hours. The power of the threat of revenge depends on who is making it. Personally if anyone really hurt one of my family I would go after them.’

 

Here’s an extract from You Belong To Me where the 4 main characters discuss getting their revenge and if two wrongs can ever make a right:

‘I feel so sorry for her,’ Rob said. ‘Poor woman’s been through so much.’

‘Ignorance is bliss, so they say,’ Kieran said. ‘At least she doesn’t know what an evil bastard her son is.’

‘Maybe it’s about time she did,’ Josh said. ‘Maybe it’s about time the whole world knew  exactly what Calum Sheppard is.’

Danny had mixed feelings about that. He wanted Calum exposed and punished for his crimes more than anything else in the world, but he didn’t want his mother subjected to anymore heartache. She’d suffered enough already. Anything else could tip her completely over the edge.

He also wanted to make Calum pay for the way he’d made him suffer from the moment he was out of nappies. Tripping him up. Pouring bleach on his foot and telling their mother he’d caught Danny about to drink it. Holding him out the bedroom window by his ankles when he was six. Stealing his puppy. No proof of that, just a series of cruel hints. Calum making whining noises. Rolling onto his back and playing dead. Saying stuff like, ‘You never know what might be buried in the woods’.

Danny, forever five years younger than Calum and a good foot smaller, had wanted to rip out Calum’s tongue and make him eat his words. Ram them back down his throat. Watch him choke on them. But Danny had just held it all inside. Didn’t say a word to his mother. She wouldn’t have believed him, anyway. As far as she was concerned, Calum could do no wrong. He did chores around the house, helped prepare the dinner, mowed the grass, got logs in for the fire and even had a part-time job in a local butcher’s shop.

Calum had loved his job, taking great delight in telling Danny all about the different cuts of meat and how to chop up a carcass.

‘Who knows, Danny? That mutt of yours might be in one of the steak and kidney pies.’

Danny had legged it to the bathroom and thrown up. Sat locked in the loo for a whole hour sobbing and swearing to God he would get Calum back for this. Just as soon as he was old enough and big enough to fight him.

‘I wish I could just kill him,’ Danny said. ‘Put the bastard six feet under and forget about him.’

Kieran raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you really think killing him would solve anything? It’s wrong, no matter what the provocation is. He needs to be caught and put in jail.’

Danny shrugged. ‘In an ideal world.’

‘That’s what God would want,’ Kieran said. ‘Two wrongs don’t make a right.’

‘How do you know what God wants?’ Josh asked. ‘You got His private number or something?’

‘Thou shalt not kill,’ Kieran said. ‘It’s simple enough for someone to understand. Even you.’

‘I don’t believe in God.’

Kieran smiled. A worn out smile that barely lifted the corners of his mouth. ‘It’s always those who need Him the most who have little or no faith.’

‘I think we have to do whatever it takes,’ Rob says. ‘Play it by ear.’

Josh agreed. ‘Makes sense.’

‘We’ve all got to stick together,’ Danny said. ‘We haven’t got time for arguments.’

 

What do you think? Can two wrongs ever make a right?
Let me know your thoughts in the comments.

If you’d like to find out more about You Belong To Me please click on the above image. It’s just 99p or 99c until the evening of Friday 22nd March.

Thank you for your continued support,

Best wishes,

Mark.

Two Years Ago Today

Two years ago today, the first novel I had published by Bloodhound Books was released. The Abattoir of Dreams was met with a pretty favourable response and has since continued to receive positive reviews. When I first had the idea for the story I knew I wanted to say something about a topic that I feel very strongly about – institutional child abuse, and it’s cover up by those in authority.

Although some people are of the opinion that this sort of thing went on in the seventies, research told me that’s it’s very much alive and kicking now. The level of abuse and the status of the people who commit some of these vile acts is unbelievable. Let’s just say that it’s a huge mistake to trust some of those who purport to defend the rights of children. I could go on forever about how deeply ingrained paedophilia is in the highest echelons of power, but it’s up to people to do their own research and make their own minds up. I’m just trying to lift a rock and shine a light on it. Now, after two years, I’m very happy and grateful that Bloodhound Books saw the potential in the story and published it.

It was a difficult book to write because of the subject matter, but I wanted the book to highlight such an important issue. In an earlier blog post, ‘Giving Abused Children a Voice – The Abattoir of Dreams,’ I look at the cases I’d seen in the news that led to me want to say something on the subject, and writing the book.

There has also been a lot of discussion about the book in Facebook groups. Some readers have felt that due to the subject matter, the book description should include a trigger warning. The book description does say the story includes abuse and murder, but for some, that isn’t enough. I watched these discussions with interest as group members shared their opinions, and then I started my own discussion. In ‘Warning! This Blog Post Contains Discussions about Trigger Warnings,’ Peter James and Betsy Reavley, amongst others, share their thoughts on the pros and cons of trigger warnings.

One of the two young male protagonists, Liam, lets readers know his feelings about the children’s home he and his friend Michael are in through poetry. In ‘Poetry in Fiction,‘ I discuss how a poem was used to convey the character’s feelings, and how poetry has been used in a variety of other writer’s fiction.

The systematic abuse of children is appalling. The homes where the abuse takes place are like abattoirs; slaughterhouses for kid’s dreams. The fictional setting in the story, Woodside Children’s Home, is, sadly, for many children a stark and horrifying reality.

As always, I welcome comments.

If you’d like to find out more about the book, you can find it here on Amazon.

 

Thank you for your continued support.

Best wishes,

Mark.

 

You Belong To Me Blog Blitz Thanks!

Over the last few days, the blog blitz that accompanied the publication of You Belong To Me, has been taking place – and what a blitz it was! I wanted to say a HUGE thank you to every blogger who helped spread the word about the book via your reviews, shares, RTs etc.

Below are links to each blogger’s review. I hope you enjoy reading what they had to say about the book:

JenMedsBookReviews
https://jenmedsbookreviews.com/2019/02/04/you-belong-to-me-by-mark-tilbury-mtilburyauthor-bloodhoundbook-review-blogtour/

Books from Dusk till Dawn
https://booksfromdusktilldawn.blog/2019/02/04/you-belong-to-me-by-mark-tilbury-mtilburyauthor-bloodhoundbook-blogtour-blogreview-youbelongtome-psychologicalthriller-suspense/?

The Book Review Cafe
https://thebookreviewcafe.com/2019/02/04/you-belong-to-me-by-mark-tilbury-blogblitz-bookreview-mtilburyauthor-bloodhoundbook/

Nemesis Book Blog
https://nemesisbookblog.wordpress.com/2019/02/04/blogtour-review-you-belong-to-me-by-mark-tilbury-mtilburyauthor-bloodhoundbook-youbelongtome/

Novel Deelights
https://noveldeelights.com/2019/02/05/you-belong-to-me-by-mark-tilbury-mtilburyauthor-bloodhoundbook

Linda’s Book Bag
https://lindasbookbag.com/2019/02/05/you-belong-to-me-by-mark-tilbury

Cheekypee Reads and Reviews
https://cheekypeereadsandreviews.blogspot.com/2019/02/you-belong-to-me-blog-tour.html

Jan’s Book Buzz
https://jansbookbuzz.com/2019/02/05/blog-tour-review-you-belong-to-me-by-mark-tilbury/ 

By The Letter Book Reviews
https://bytheletterbookreviews.com/2019/02/06/you-belong-to-me-by-mark-tilbury-bloodhoundbook-mtilburyauthor/. Continue reading

Extract from You Belong To Me – part two

 

Today I’d like to continue sharing an extract from You Belong To Me. It continues on from part one. Again, I hope you enjoy it.

 

She trudged towards the door. She bent down and picked up the keys. Maybe if she did as he wanted, he might let her go. She’d read a case in a magazine once about a girl who’d been taken captive by a man in an underground bunker in the woods. Over time, she’d convinced him she was his friend. That she had feelings for him. He’d eventually trusted her enough to allow her certain freedoms. One day she’d escaped by persuading him to let her pick wild mushrooms for breakfast. The terrible level of abuse he’d subjected her to read like something out of a horror movie, but she’d outsmarted him in the end and lived to tell the tale.

She fumbled with the lock, hands shaking.

‘What the fuck are you playing at?’

Cassie wanted to turn around and throw the keys at him. Tell him to open his own door and let her go home. ‘I can’t get the key in.’

‘Don’t make me have to come over there and do it for you,’ he warned.

She finally pushed the key home and twisted it in the lock. The bar popped up. She removed it from the latch.

‘Go inside and wait by the bar.’

The place reeked of piss. She walked across broken glass, discarded wrappers and cigarette packets. She stood at the bar holding onto it for support. The mirrored glass behind the bar was smashed, displaying the optics in dozens of tiny reflections.

He took a torch from his combat trousers and shone the beam at her. ‘Don’t look so worried. Everything will be fine as long as you do as you’re told.’

Cassie wanted to tell him that her boyfriend would come looking for her if she wasn’t home soon. And her dad. Her brother. The whole town. But her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth.

‘What’s your name?’

She shook her head, trying to stop her thoughts setting fire to her brain. He would rape her. Torture her. Kill her. This was all the worst stories she’d ever read about coming to life. The ones that scared the crap out of her on cold winter nights and made her feel grateful she had people around her who loved her.

‘What’s your name?’ He asked again, waving the torch as if trying to coax an answer with it. ‘I think we ought to get on first-name terms considering we’re going to be spending a long time together.’

‘I… want… to… go… home.’

‘And I want to be a millionaire, but you might as well want a mile as want an inch.’

Cassie forced herself to tell him her name.

He was silent for a short while as if savouring it. ‘That’s a strange name.’

‘It’s short for Cassandra.’

‘Makes you sound like a film star.’

She shrugged.

‘Mind if I call you Cass?’

You can call me what you like as long as you don’t hurt me. ‘I don’t care. I just want to go home.’

‘You are home. I know it needs fixing up a bit, and it’s a pain in the arse the electric’s off, but it’s all about making the most of what you’ve got, don’t you think?’

‘My mum will be worried about me.’

‘So you said. Now, put your bag on the floor and empty your pockets. I know how attached you girls can be to your mobile phones.’

Cassie dropped her bag on the floor. ‘I haven’t got anything in my pockets.’

‘Take your shorts off and put them on top of your bag.’

‘But—’

‘Now!’

Cassie peeled off her soaking wet shorts and kicked them towards the bag. The humiliation of standing almost naked in front of this vile man made her feel as if she was already dead.

‘I’ve got new clothes for you down in your room.’

‘I don’t want new clothes. I want to go home.’

He ignored her. ‘It’s only charity shop gear, but I ain’t exactly flush at the moment. Maybe when I’m better fixed I’ll get you something a bit more upmarket.’

Cassie stifled a sob. Coughed. Wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

He retrieved the padlock from the outside catch, closed the door and slid two bolts across the inside. ‘All safe and sound,’ he said, putting the lock in his hoodie pocket.

Cassie felt as if she’d just been locked inside a condemned cell. She clasped her hands in front of her crotch. ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘Because I can.’ He pointed the torch at a door to the left of the bar. ‘Off you go. Mind the steps on the way down, they’re a bit rickety.’

‘I’m claustrophobic,’ Cassie said. ‘Especially in the dark.’

‘It’s not dark. There’s some battery operated lights down there. Make sure you use them sparingly though. I’m not going into town for fresh batteries every five minutes. Your clothes are on top of the mattress.’

Cassie gawped at the door as if were the gateway to hell.

‘Get going. I’ve got things to do.’

Cassie trudged towards the door. She looked over her shoulder. Thought about making one last plea for him to let her go, but knew it was pointless. She would die in this stinking pub. And it was all Darren Clarke’s fault. If he hadn’t kissed that slag, they would be curled up on the sofa watching a film right now. Or making plans for what they would do after they’d finished college.

She didn’t know who she hated most–Darren or this vile man. She opened the door and walked down the cellar steps. Halfway down, the door slammed behind her and a key turned in the lock.

She reached the bottom of the steps. Only one light was on. It cast a dim glow across the cellar. Metal beer kegs lined one wall like a pub’s version of tombstones. A wine rack took up most of another wall. The floor was littered with debris. Broken bottles. Upturned crates. A mattress with a small pile of clothes scattered on top. Something scurried behind the beer kegs. Cassie didn’t need an overactive imagination to conjure up an image of rats. And spiders. And cockroaches.

She fell onto the filthy mattress and buried her head in the clothes. No one knew she was here. He could do exactly as he pleased. Her parents would probably call the cops as soon as it became clear she was missing. Ping a million questions at Darren. Go frantic with worry. And there was nothing they could do to help her.

Welcome to hell.

 

 

I hope that you’ve enjoyed these extracts and will enjoy reading the rest of the book.

You can also see what early ARC reviewers have thought of the book, and add it to your TBR over on Goodreads.

You can now pre-order your copy of You Belong To Me from Amazon for 99p or 99c.

 

Thank you for your continued support.

Best wishes,

Mark.

Extract from You Belong To Me – part one

 

Today I’d like to share an extract from You Belong to Me. The book is being published by Bloodhound Books on 4th February and will be available to pre order from 28th January.

 

Cassie usually walked home through town and along St George’s Road. It was a practice born of her mother’s frequent warnings not to go anywhere isolated on her own. But the track was familiar. The school used it as a route for cross-country runs, and it didn’t seem very threatening in daylight.

With the rain driving into her face and rendering her glasses useless, she didn’t notice the man standing under the back porch of the pub watching her. There was little point removing her spectacles because the world just existed in a series of fuzzy ill-defined blobs without them.

Cassie’s mind hopped from wanting to kill herself to wanting to kill Darren. How could he even consider going near a slag like Hailey Connor? And she was a year older than him. Not to mention ugly as sin beneath that barrier of war paint she always slapped on her face. Why were boys such weak pathetic creatures? One smile and they were anyone’s.

How could she have been stupid enough to think Darren loved her for who she was? Didn’t care about the bump in her nose, or the gap in her front teeth. Didn’t give a hoot she had a slight lisp when she talked too fast. Darren had seemed like a breath of fresh air compared to most boys. Now, it turned out he was worse than all of them. He’d taken her heart and thrown it in a muddy ditch.

So, you’re just going to throw your whole life away over one stupid boy? A voice whispered in her head. He’s the one who ought to jump off the water tower.

Cassie stared at her trainers. White Nikes with a pink trim. The muddy lane had turned them as black as her mood. She wasn’t aware of the man stepping out of the porch and onto the track. He was maybe twenty yards behind her, dressed in a dark-blue hoodie, combat trousers and black trainers. Hands thrust in his jacket pockets. Face like a slice of moon beneath the dark hood.

The track was about a mile long. It was a dried up brook, but heavy rainfall could rapidly restore it to its former glory. It ran from the river to the back of the park, and from there it was just a short walk along St George’s Road to her house.

The rain had slowed to little more than a light drizzle by the time she was halfway along the track. She stopped and swatted at something buzzing around her head. The man stopped and stood as still as the trees lining the trail.

Cassie checked her airspace for more invaders. Birds and butterflies aside, she hated anything that flew. A wasp had stung her in the garden when she was twelve, and the experience had left her with a pathological hatred of airborne invaders.

As her tears subsided to an occasional sniffle, she opened her bag and took out a packet of tissues. She plucked three from the plastic wrapper, blew her nose and wiped her face. She dropped the tissues back in her bag and snapped it shut. She threw the strap over her shoulder and started walking again.

Why did her mother have to choose this week of all weeks to take a holiday? Now, she would face a salvo of questions the minute she stepped through the door. And it was no good thinking she could make it upstairs without being spotted; her mother had an inbuilt radar fine-tuned to Cassie. Both emotional and physical.

What does it matter what she says if you’re going to kill yourself?

Cassie ignored the voice. She would have a shower and change her clothes before she did anything else–including leaping off the water tower.

The man gained a few yards on her. He kept his head down, as if fascinated by his trainers. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and then rubbed it on his trousers.

Cassie stopped to negotiate a fallen tree blocking her path. It wasn’t too big to clamber over, but awkward, greased with rainwater and moss. She noticed brambles had scrawled a bloody signature on her bare legs.

The man took his chance. He closed the gap in a matter of seconds like a lion moving in for the kill. Cassie had just got her leg over the trunk when he told her to keep still.

At first, she thought he was going to warn her that there was something dangerous lurking on the tree. A scorpion. Maybe even a rat. She turned her head round to see him standing a few feet away. She couldn’t make out his features beneath the hoodie. He was wearing mirrored sunglasses, and a beard obscured the bottom half of his face.

Cassie felt her stomach tighten. ‘What is it?’

He didn’t answer. He pulled a gun from the waistband of his combat trousers and pointed it at her chest. ‘I want you to come with me.’

Cassie legs lost all their strength. She thought about trying to scramble over the tree. Make a run for it. Only a few hundred yards to the park. If she wailed like a siren all the way, perhaps he would back off and give up.

Or shoot you.

‘Turn around slowly and face me.’

‘Why?’

‘Just do as I say.’

Cassie turned around, barely able to stand. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. ‘Please don’t hurt me.’

‘I won’t–as long as you do as you’re told.’

‘My mum’s expecting me home.’

‘If you tell me where she lives, I’ll go round later and pay her visit. Tell her you’ve been held up.’

Why was this happening to her? She’d already had the shittiest day imaginable. ‘Please, I just want to go home.’

The man shook his head. ‘You can’t always get what you want. They ought to teach that in school to stop all that disappointment later. Now, walk past me and head off back towards the river. And don’t think about legging it. I ain’t seen no one outrun a bullet yet.’

‘My feet hurt.’

‘And so does my head. Now move!’

Cassie took a wide berth around him, eyes trained on the gun. He wasn’t as tall as Darren, and thin enough to suggest she might have stood a small chance of fighting him off under normal circumstances. But these were not normal circumstances. The gun seemed to wink at her in a shaft of emerging sunlight.

Cassie shuffled forward. There was a nightclub just before the bridge. The Millhouse. It boasted a beautiful riverside terrace. Maybe she could get someone’s attention if she screamed loud enough.

You might as well run, a voice whispered in her head. You’ve got nothing to lose. Better to get shot than to end up somewhere with him.

She could hear him behind her, breathing heavy, sniffing.

‘Where are we going?’ She asked again. ‘Please tell me?’

‘Home.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You will.’

Cassie walked past her own footprints as she headed back towards the river. The ones made before the man had appeared out of nowhere and turned her heart to dust.

He told her to stop at a wooden gate leading to the pub garden.

Cassie glanced behind her. Stared at the gun.

‘Go through the gate.’

‘Why?’

‘You ask me one more question, and you won’t see tomorrow. You’re mine now. That’s all you need to know.’

She could see huge banners on the wall outside the Millhouse declaring the latest offering from Sky Sports. Someone walking along the wooden terrace which wrapped itself around the building to the riverside view at the front.

Do it, Cassie’s mind screamed. Run. For Christ’s  sake, run

But she could barely move. She stifled a sob as she walked into the overgrown garden. The place resembled a cross between a jungle and a tip. Overturned tables, two fridges and a sofa bleeding its stuffing nestled among the tall grass and brambles. Most of the fence surrounding the garden was leaning over and broken.

‘See that door over there?’

Cassie nodded. She felt as if she would throw up any minute.

He threw a bunch of keys at the door. ‘The silver one’s for the padlock. Open it.’

 

 

I hope you enjoyed reading the first part of the extract. Continue reading in part two.
If you did enjoy it and would like to add the book to your Goodreads TBR list, you can find You Belong To Me here.

You Belong To Me is now available to buy or download on Amazon.

Thank you for your continued support.

Best wishes,

Mark.