❛𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒!❜
⸻ in which Rory Hargrove is obsessed to uncover
the truth behind Barbara Holland's disappearance, while
facing her brother's enemy and buried se...
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SHE OPENED THE FRONT DOOR OF THE HOUSE, which groaned in protest. It was raining heavily. The raindrops fell in streaks on the horizon and into the courtyard puddles.
She tilted her head toward the dense sky covered with gray clouds that wept sadly.
Suddenly, the rain slowed, falling gently. But she wasn't going to wait outside for it to stop for good. She put her hair in a ponytail and covered it with the hood of her jacket and zipped up to her chin. She hid her cassette player and headphones in her jacket to protect them from the rain.
Aurora closed the door behind her and picked up the pace as soon as she reached the sidewalk. She still didn't know the suborns very well, but she decided to take a chance and do her morning marathon.
Running in the rain might not be good for her immune system, but it was essential for her mood. She began to turn to running as a way to escape from her problems, from the pressure she felt in her chest, from everything.
But there was something she couldn't escape, even if she ran as fast as she could, even if she forced her muscles to strengthen and her blood to boil in her veins. She couldn't escape her thoughts.
She tried to focus on hers breathing and surroundings, but some days she couldn't stop them from swirling around in her mind.
It had been about two weeks since she left her paradise in California. And her mother too. Both agreed that Rory would call her as soon as she arrived. And so she did. So that her father wouldn't find out that she was talking to her mother, something he had expressly forbidden, she called her on the school phone. She had told her mom about that the atmosphere was not as humid and fresh as on the coast, but rather muggy and mild. She also told her Hawkins was small, quiet, and strange, even though everyone seemed to love living there. It really had nothing to do with San Francisco.
But the call was short. Her mother spoke little, unlike her usual self. She asked a few questions and seemed interested, but not as excited as usual.
Maybe she was feeling down. That was normal. Maybe she missed her daughter more than usual, even though they only managed to get together about once a month. But she felt deep down that something wasn't right.
She felt a pang in her lung, already gasping for air. Past memories that lived rent-free in her mind were flashing before her eyes as she ran in automatic mode. She was running faster, stretching her limits. It was as if she were running away from the sorrows that tormented her.
