⸻ ❛𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒!❜
Rory Hargrove is obsessed to uncover the truth behind Barbara Holland's disappearance, while facing her brother's enemy and buried secrets from...
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THE OCTOBER AIR WAS FRESH THAT THURSDAY AFTERNOON, filled with the scent of fallen leaves and distant bonfires. Classes were over, and Aurora had finally settled into her new home—no more boxes, no more dust.
Billy was probably out charming some poor girls, and Max was no doubt at the arcade she liked. It was good that they found their place here. Max was tough, independent - but Rory still felt that nagging instinct to look out for her.
As she passed her house, she kept walking, heading north with her backpack slung over her shoulder, marking landmarks in her memory so she could find her way back. The town was small, quiet — almost too quiet — but that didn't bother her. If anything, it fascinated her.
Although it was an unknown city, she wasn't afraid to walk around alone. Sometimes her curious and fearless instincts spoke louder than her sense of danger. But it wouldn't be a bad idea, right? What harm could there be?
The chirping of the sparrows mingled with the rustling of the leaves, the sun bathed everything in shades of amber and gold. The air smelled of damp earth and distant forest smoke.
Her adventurous spirit longed for a moment of contemplation and discovery, as well as peace.
And now she had found the perfect spot.
After a long walk into the unknown, she came upon a pile of huge rocks, one shaped like a human skull. A morbid coincidence, or maybe a warning. Either way, it was interesting.
And she didn't seem to be in completely uninhabited territory when she saw crumpled Coke cans in a corner.
Discarded Coke cans and dead cigarettes told her she wasn't the first to stumble upon this place. Still, she dropped her bag and sat down, leaning against the cold stone. A little dirt never hurt anyone. Tall trees surrounded the place, their leafy branches swaying in the wind and blocking out the intensity of the sunlight.
Her fingers brushed against a stolen pack of Camels from her brother.
A bad idea? Maybe. But Billy smoked these like they were oxygen, and he always felt an eviable inner peace. Rory lit one, inhaled—and instantly regretted it. The taste was like burnt paper and chemicals, making her eyes sting.
Still, she took another drag.
She let her head rest against the rock, a book balanced on her lap, her thoughts floating somewhere between the printed words and the shifting sky.
Maybe Hawkins wasn't so bad after all. She was far away from everyone and everything, surrounded by the gentle silence of nature —an introvert's paradise.
