Prologue

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  • Dedicated to my favorite cousin, Agustina.
                                    

Prologue

Knock, knock.

"Michael Grey Sanders, it is--" I check the clock, "5:02 in the morning. You shouldn't be here for another two hours." I lie my head back down on my pillow and make an attempt at returning to my incredible dream about Blaire Chandler, the most attractive guy in Hollendale, Louisiana.

Knock, knock. This again?

I get up and stand in front of the mirror. I look barbaric. I brush through my matted hair and try to look somewhat like a normal teenage girl, other than the Yeti. I trudge over to the main hall and swing the front door open. "Mike, there's this thing called a watch--" I stop myself mid-sentence. This isn't Mike. I look the person up and down. Male. Tall. Looks about 40.

"Um, excuse me, I thought you were my friend Mike. Can I help you?" The man held a picture in his hand, but I couldn't see of who it was. He looked down at it, then looked up at me, then looked down again and returned to looking at me. One would expect this look to be scrutinizing, but for some odd reason, his face screamed of angst.

"Sir?"

His next words came out in a stutter. "I- I- I didn't think this was t-true. I heard them, I heard them talk about it. B-but I- I- didn't believe them." He took a deep breath and I stepped back. This guy was starting to freak me out. "Is your name Trinity Wright?" I eyed him suspiciously. Although the man's clothing was tattered and bedraggled, as I examined more, it looked as if it were fine clothing. Yes, he looked like he had stepped straight out of the Royal British Army and run through a marsh. I took another step back and narrowed my eyes at him. "Matthews. Trinity Matthews."

His mouth gaped open. "How long have you lived here?"

"My entire life." Why does he care about how long I've lived here? And why did I tell him? He's a complete stranger! He could be a child molester for all I know! He looked down at the picture once more, and while his eyes were busy I got onto the tips of my toes, trying to see who the picture was of but he swiftly stuffed it into his coat pocket. His shoulders heaved as he sighed. "I-I'm sorry, I must be going. Wr-wrong house, so sorry. So sorry." He rushed to his car, his keys jangling as he hastily endeavored to open the door. The right side door. Now that is a sight you don't see everyday, unless you live in Europe. I watched as his car sped down the street.

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