Her Prison, His Game | ✔

Chapter One - Sample

Jenna cringed and dropped her books as a clap of thunder rumbled overhead, shaking the window beside her.
"Miss McCay, if you damage those books, it will come out of your pay cheque," Ms. Hampton said, her dark eyes narrowing. She had her gray hair tied up in a bun and looked a lot like a scary kindergarten teacher with her dark grey three-piece dress suit. The one that made you hide behind your mother on the first day of school.
"Sorry." She knelt down to pick up the books, biting her tongue from saying anything more. The woman acted like she owned the library and wouldn't hesitate to fire her if Jenna responded with a sassy remark. She acted so high and mighty. It wasn't like she hadn't dropped a single book in her life.
Wicked ole' witch!
All Ms. Hampton needed was a broom, and Jenna could envision the old lady flying off into the cloud covered sky. She was probably the one who cast the spell and caused the storm that was pounding the West Coast of British Columbia.
Lightning lit up the room, and she held the books close to her chest, her heart thumping as she waited for the thunder that she knew would come. Damn storm was going to turn her own hair gray before its time. But hopefully she could avoid the grumpy attitude when her time came, unlike the old mistress of the library. Ms. Hampton was probably older than the library itself.
"Teens these days, always careless," the older woman mumbled as she walked away, shaking her head. Jenna stuck her tongue out at her and then quickly closed her mouth when Ms. Hampton turned to face her. "Just for that, you can clean the children's area before you go home tonight."
Definitely a witch!
Children had been coming and going all day. The place was going to be a disaster with garbage everywhere. Even though parents weren't allowed to bring snacks into the library, they often snuck them in anyway. Why couldn't Ms. Hampton pick on one of the other girls or Derek even? He could do with cleaning the playpen every once in a while. Especially since he needed to be knocked down a peg or two, always thinking he was mister hotshot.
"Seriously, we work in a library and yet somehow he thinks he's god's gift to women," Jenna mumbled.
Ya. Okay. He had the looks, but his attitude stunk. She couldn't wait to get away from them both. The only reason she put up with them was because she needed the money. Her plan was to save up and see the world. She didn't care about cute guys or wasting her entire adult life working in some library. Nothing was going to stop her from fulfilling her dream, not even a beady eyed old grouch who watched her like a hawk.
Placing the last of the books on the shelf, she strolled down a side corridor and entered the children's section. The place was virtually deserted and had an eerie Alfred Hitchcock feel to it. She hated this time of day, hated it with a passion. But one more year and she'd be free. Walking over to the toddler play area, she plunked herself down in the soft cushioned chair and laid her head back.
"Just another ye—" Jenna didn't even get a chance to finish her sentence as a loud crack filled the air, shattering the window beside her. She screamed and covered her face. Shards of glass dug into her hands, sharp and painful, like being stung by a colony of bees
The wind howled through the window, blowing the papers off a nearby table. Leaves swirled into the room like mini tornados, making an even bigger mess than before. "Great," she groaned. "Just great."
Getting up from the chair, Jenna surveyed the damage. The culprit was a huge branch that broke off a large cedar tree. It was sticking half way through the broken window. Next to her feet, she saw red marks on the carpet. And when she looked at her hands, she could have sworn she dipped them in tomato soup.
Not good!
So not good. The all too familiar woozy feeling washed over her as her head started to spin. "It's just blood. It's no big deal," she said, taking a deep breath in through her nose and then out through her mouth. "I can do this!"
Would she ever outgrow her fear of blood? Cautiously, she stepped over the glass and moved away from the window. "I'm not a kid anymore. A little bit of blood is no big deal," she mumbled, but her stomach refused to agree as it twisted with nausea. "You aren't dying, you idiot."
"What are you doing bleeding on my floor?"