Brenda wanted a normal school year. Instead her mom died.
Salma needed space from her sister and terrible ex. Or else she'd lose her mind.
Delilah didn't think she'd have any more problems after moving far from her hometown. That was until she becam...
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❝ A good act does not wash out the bad, nor a bad act the good. Each should have its own reward.❞ -George R. R. Martin
🚗 JAXON 🚗
I was falling, dropping from the purple sky, and into an endless tunnel of screaming voices.
Grimy hands, clawing on my flesh and pulling me deeper into a black abyss.
These were the last things I saw right before being hoisted out of my own imagination. I heaved, panted, and wondered how I ended up on the cold hardwood floor.
Did I collapse?
Running my hands up the side of on my face, patting the surface, I muffled a groan when my finger touched my temple and added enough pressure on it. I had bumped my head, quite badly.
How did I get here?
The further my mind went back, the less grasp I had on what was reality and what was made up entirely from my own mind.
My trip to the hospital was a flickering image in the furthest corner of my consciousness.
Shutting my eyes tightly, I recollected on the moments after I rolled my wheelchair out of the hospital lobby. The air was chilly, making me grab on to the collar of my jacket. There wasn't anyone else outside. Two nurses in blue scrubs hurried past me, talking with Starbucks coffee cups to their mouths. I mumbled something to a pedestrian, asking if they had a lighter and they didn't reply.
My mind painted the image of a black car pulling up to the curb, the soft murmurs of a companion of mine, and then the swift kick to the stomach—moments after having approached the vehicle.
How did I get to this place?
The surrounding area didn't strike any of my memories as familiar. I was in a bedroom, lying on my back on the floor. That much I could make sense of, and not much other than that.
How I got myself down here and out of my chair was still a mystery. Craning my neck up, I saw the wheel of my chair—tucked away behind the door.
I wanted to move. Move closer to it, inch nearer to the front of the chair, but the second I attempted to someone on the other side of the door began to speak.
"He hasn't gotten up," the person said, "I haven't given him the food yet. No. Why should I wake him? He hasn't been responding."
There was silence, meaning whoever this stranger was talking to wasn't in the same room as them. She was on the phone.
"I know how much I put into his system. He should be waking up soon. He isn't dead!"
Oh, but I wish I was.
Being dead meant I was far from the monsters who had swept me into the black van. In death, I was safe and at peace. Here in this windowless room, I was a victim ready to be sliced up and tormented. Or God knows what else this twisted individual wanted to do wit my body.
Anxiousness, fueled with paranoia, and driven by a strong memory made me transported out of the dreary room and into a more crucial part of my life.
Pungent. Bitter. The scent of cheap perfume and Cuban cigar clouded my mind and mingled with my senses, rushing me back in time.
At last, something hit me with clarity as to what was going on. On the desk, resting on its side, was a glass bottle half filled and made to look like an internally shattered crystal ball. The brand of perfume was inexpensive and the reason I had any thought associated to it was because of the one person I knew who used it. She loved it dearly, spraying it liberally all over her body, and bringing it with her everywhere. It was such a distracting object, awkwardly large and out of place in her purse—bulging out.
When she ran out of it, she was upset at first. I gifted her a new bottle of the perfume, despite my dislike for it and my previous requests to ditch the flowery scent.
Why hadn't I seen it before?
If the bottle wasn't a sure enough indicator, the words of the woman on the other side of my door confirmed my inkling.
"Yeah, I will be able to stop by," she said, "Don't worry about him, Penelope. Hector has this all figured out. No one is going to know about it. Just trust your cousin Hector, ok?"
A/N:Please vote If you're confused, promise things will make more sense the further we get into the book. Had to start book2 with some chaos Penelope is Jaxon's ex and the reason why he doesn't believe in monogamy
