Lost Memories

Lost Memories

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WpMetadataReadOngoing1h 57m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Feb 20, 2017
This is the second book of The Last Hour... Roan's POV: 2 years later I prop myself onto the couch, wincing slightly at the pain that shot through my body and I look at the time; it was only noon. I rub my face in exhaustion, my hands shaking due to my illness and I bit my cheek to keep myself from coughing. I could hear Dorian purring in his sleep, causing me to feel sorta jealous that somebody could sleep in peace. Bram's POV: I sat on my bed, staring at the white ceiling in utter boredom and I give out a small huff. I was put on room arrest after my little suicide attempt that I tried to do yesterday afternoon because the voices were too talkative, and today they are silent. I don't know what has happened, but someone made me like this and it is frustrating me that I don't remember... I don't even remember the last time I socialized with Roan, and I doubt it was recent.
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Warning: This is book one (It is finished) in a series I am working on book 2 Into: Her house stood at the base of the Headlong cliffs. The cliffs are great desert mountains built by ages of sand hardening and becoming hard rock. It was dark by the time she began to climb up the dangerous cliffs, scraping her knees here and there. She grew up near these cliffs, this was home. She has been through every nook and cranny not missing a single detail. She could climb through these cliffs day, night, rain, shine, wind, snow, anything, even blind. But tonight she climbed to seek refuge from her life below. At the top there was a shack built up of large metal sheets that had likely been placed together by some random traveler seeking shelter. She crawled her way into the small hole that substitutes as an entrance. Inside there were a few boxes and a patch of dirt. She sat down and leaned against one of the boxes. She pulled her knees to her chest and stuck her head down so that she looked like a little ball. Finally, after holding it all in for far too long, she let the flood of tears flow. She sat there on the hard ground crying and crying and crying until there were no possible tears left to cry.

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