Programming Love Blurb:
Like running the ball of a lottery, it was a counter of female names, all different sizes, shapes, hair, eyes, colour, personalities, talents, fetishes...all were different. All for Atlas Sorenson.
My name had been on that bloody list. The danger of its circumference was the number of loopholes and secrets lied within the Royal Ring, the circle that never ends. A group, an Elite, a Royal wealthy golden clique of teenagers at a dangerous Academy, looking for another dark story to tell to the press. So many women were found abused, dreaded, gutted at the end of it and Atlas Sorenson felt nothing. He never slipped a vulnerable swipe of a tear of the amount of girls that lost everything because of him.
My parents died when I was six years old. I lost my older brother in a car crash just last year and my younger sister is still in an emergency hospital in Washington being treated for a cancer at the young age of three.
I had no room, no sympathy for Atlas Sorenson. Yet he seemed as determined as the people who set up this game of love to learn my secrets and my heart. I wasn't going to eat another girl on that podium of his, on that trophy case of his...
His azure blue eyes stare stoically down into mine, "You'll join me for dinner or I break the only source of income you have, Lyra?" He says, he spits more like it.
Inside I'm seething as I stare darkly into his expensive long coat, that looked as though it should have been bleeding gold as I hook my arm into his and he leads me to his sleek Aston Martin.
I could never fall in love with a man colder than myself.
I just didn't know he was falling for me. Because that broke every rule in the bloody programme, and it was against his own rules.
CHAPTER 1:
My notes weren't perfect the longer I stared at my chemistry analysis book. I focused on the skin cancer alterations, when I previously looked at possible tumours not only on the brain stem but further in the brain matter of past results, I threw up in the plane ladies room before the wheels left the runway. The sight of the brain matter only sickened me more as I turn back to take my seat in commercial. My three year old sister, Cecilia was born with a tumour on the left side of her brain. This was diagnosed when my older brother, Leroy killed himself in a drunk stupor, driving so fast, his car didn't just wrap around a tree, he was driving so fast up on Lithium Hill, the tree went straight through the engine and branches had embedded themselves into his right atrium. He died on impact.
I was left alone in a house my Father, a simple vehicle mechanic, bought for my Mother in their teenage years. A two storey house with a simple front garden and a very American style neighbourhood, though I've lived in London my entire eighteen years.
The plane was a long seven hour ride of reading more and more about the left and right sides of the brain, memory, frontal lobe, parietal lobe, temporal lobe, occipital lobe and their precarious functions, what they involved themselves with regarding every inch of the body. She's my last remaining family left, I wasn't about to let her go like this.
Cecilia deserved a bright future ahead of her, she deserved to experience everything a normal human being desired, to learn and adapt the way our brains do so naturally. She shouldn't be so confined like this. I spent the entirety of the seven hours reading, drinking more water due to my outbreak of my breakfast and lunch, I spent the night flight with my small light on, despite the grumpy business man next to me who struggled with it, yet didn't say anything.
It was early dusk when the plane officially landed, I gripped the sides of my chair as the embodiment of the plane shakes like a tornado rammed through it, mixed with a tsunami and same hectic rain storm that struck it with lightning a couple times.
YOU ARE READING
My Fiction Fix #01
General FictionHi there! These are ideas/ collections of work I wanted to get down because in the end, I almost always end up forgetting or deleting the book before I can get more than a few chapters in. So, to all my loyal readers, fellow writers, amazing voters...