Commanding His Love

Update: Back to working on this book.

This work is my creation. The names are of my imagination. Don't copy any part of my book.. I will find out.. No author should have her work stolen for any reason..

We gathered on the bus heading to the designated meetup site. Once the bus came to a full stop and I stepped off the last step, I took in the dusty, muddy site. Swallowing the lump in my throat. A group of ten police officers and medics stood off to the side, not too far away, in deep conversation. The middle one giving off this powerful aurora. I looked at him one last time before heading off to where our team captain was. As I stood there listening to our team leader, I felt this cold sensation climbing down my spine. Glancing over my shoulder, I caught the man in the middle staring with his eyes fixated on me. My brain kept working overtime, trying to figure out who he was.
A few seconds later, a stone-faced man stood in front of us, giving out instructions and splitting everybody up into groups of 6. He glanced in my direction, signaling me to follow them.
Together, we navigated the wreckage, calling out for survivors, our voices swallowed by the twisted metal and splintered wood. We dug with bare hands, fueled by adrenaline and the desperate hope that someone, somewhere, still clung to life. Each discovery-a child's doll, a photo frame, a half-buried pet-wrenched at our hearts.

Amongst the chaos, we discovered something profound: family isn't always bound by blood. It's forged in the crucible of shared struggle, in the moments when survival hinges on collective effort. Our makeshift family became my anchor-the reason I pushed through fatigue, the reason I kept digging, the reason I believed in hope when all seemed lost. My name is Amara Wong, and this is my story.

©️ April 1 2022 Carmalisa Ford.