Unheard: Book 3 of The Bound Trilogy

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

3 years later

~Kayla’s POV~

The drive from work to home had been excruciatingly long.  Hitting every red light made the already lengthy drive seem to stretch on for eternity.

Finally, after hours of being stuck behind the wheel, I was pulling into the driveway of my rental home.

Shutting the engine off, I lay my head against the steering wheel.

I was exhausted.  Wanting to crawl through my front door, down the hall to my bedroom, only to collapse on my comfy bed.  But that was not going to happen.

Sitting up with a sigh, I slipped the keys from the ignition and reached for my purse in the passenger seat.

The car door opened with a groan, reminding me I needed to pick up some WD40 to oil the stupid thing.

I was in desperate need of a new car, but I couldn’t afford it.  I had to make this one last as long as I could.  If I limped it along until tax time, then maybe—just maybe—I could get something a little more reliable.

As it was, this thing, died every time I went over a bump in the road, so I had to make sure not to hit the many potholes on my way to and from work.

Putting those depressing thoughts out of my head, I wearily made my way to the front door.

I glanced around my yard in the early morning light to see toys strewn about.

Looks like they forgot to pick up the yard again, I thought to myself.

Letting it go for now, I unlocked my front door and kicked my shoes off next to the door.

The house was quiet and dark, as everyone was still in bed.  A glance at my watch showed  it wouldn’t stay that way for long.  So much for my daydream of falling into bed.  Instead, I collapsed onto my refurbished garage sale couch.

My house was small—and may have been a rental—but I tried to make it feel like a home.  The walls painted in warm neutral colors, pictures and wrought iron art pieces hung here and there.

Aside from my used couch, there was a flea market end table with a lamp that looked like Tinker Bell.  I had a small T.V. set on top of an old entertainment center.  On the shelves under the T.V. there was an old VHS/DVD player, and an ancient Nintendo game system.

The living room was open into the kitchen, which looked like something from the 70’s.  I didn’t mind though.  I just put knickknacks and cookie jars on top of the cabinets and the counter only contained a microwave and a toaster.  The pea-green refrigerator was covered in colorful magnets and scribbled drawings.

Seeing them brought a smile to my face.

I may be tired, and want to quit my job—wishing for a better life—but there was one thing that I would never regret in my short life.

The sound of a door opening and the pitter patter of footsteps down the hall was that very reason.

A ball of energy rushed into the living room, tackling me on the couch.  The cry of “Mommy!” was my only warning that my son was going to jump on me.

Wrapping my arms around my son, I leaned into his tiny neck inhaling his wonderful scent of baby shampoo, crayons, and the unmistakable scent of little boy.

Exhaustion was getting to me as tears threatened, thinking about how much this little being meant to me.  I held back the flood as another set of footsteps reached my ears.