Lynnianna Keating.
That name to most means royalty. But to her it meant nothing. Lynni hated the way she was. Being a Kook was torture. Fancy parties, big houses. Not her forte. So, how does a Kook change the way her life is? She befriends a pogue...
JOHN B AND SARAH WAITED UNTIL LYNNI made it safely up her driveway before the Twinkie rumbled off into the distance, leaving her standing alone in the fading afternoon light.
The moment she stepped inside, the quiet hit her like a wall.
She kicked her shoes off beside the front door—one tumbling over onto its side—then padded through the foyer, the emptiness of the house echoing faintly around her. She climbed the stairs, exhaustion weighing her down with each step, and moved down the hallway toward her bedroom.
She pushed the door open.
Everything was exactly how she left it—bed unmade, curtains half-open, a few clothes tossed over her chair. Her life frozen mid-moment, untouched by the chaos she'd just survived.
She didn't even bother turning on the lights. She flopped face-first onto her bed, the mattress sighing beneath her weight until she rolled onto her back. For a long moment she stared at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths.
Finally, she forced herself up and crossed into the bathroom.
She closed the door behind her with a soft click and braced her palms against the skin, leaning in toward the mirror. Her reflection stared back—tired, worn down, unfamiliar.
Her hair was dirty and knotted, sticking to itself in frizzy tangles. Her skin looked pale under the harsh overhead lights. Her eyes were dull, ringed with exhaustion.
Then her gaze drifted to the band-aid above her eyebrow. Slowly—hesitantly—she reached up and peeled it away.
The gash underneath made her stomach twist. Dried blood crusted along the edges, the skin swollen, irritated, angry. She winced at the sight—Barry's hands on her, her head hitting the ground, the rock cutting into her skin—it all replayed in brutal clarity.
Her face scrunched with the memory.
Enough.
She peeled off her clothes piece by piece, letting them fall to the cool tile floor. She turned on the shower, hearing the pipes groan before hot steam began to fill the room. When the water was finally warm, she stepped inside.
The first tough of heat made her hiss—her skin wasn't used to the shock after days without a shower—but soon her muscles relaxed, melting under the steady stream.
