by Hazel Grace
“The fuck!” Hollis hollers, making another go of rising, but instead, he’s yanked up, stumbling forward and into the blackness that I can’t filter into color or characteristics. “Get the fuck off me!”
A heavy thud resonates off the floor, followed by another metallic clack of another weapon. My hands instinctively go up to defend myself, trailing my gaze to find that Hollis isn’t standing anymore, and two black bodies move towards the kitchen.
My breaths echo in my ears, but it’s all I hear for the moment. Until I’m following Hollis by being tugged off the couch.
My chest hits another. My palms locate solid muscles under a cotton tee, and an arm wraps around my waist.
“This is private property.”
Dad.
My body immediately begins to tremor in fear. I’ve watched too much TruTV at the campus’s coffee shop, and my first thought is that this is a robbery. A random heist to grab whatever they can carry to make money off of.
A gunshot suddenly rings out again, blistering my ears, and my hands go to cover them. Suddenly I’m wrenched from my spot and lugged towards the front door.
“Wait!” My plea, I’m not sure how loud it is, but in my head, it sounds like an echo in an empty building.
The coolness of the April night hits my frame as I’m dragged across the wet grass of our front yard, soaking my socks. A dog’s bark breaks the stillness of the neighborhood somewhere in the distance as the streetlights hover over the cars parked along the curb.
“Where are we—” Another tug, and it’s to shut me up. A sharp word. A hard pull or glare—that’s all I need to remain silent. To be obedient for anyone to step on and take advantage of. With Dad, Hollis, any of his friends who eye fuck me from across the room and have grazed at least one part of their bodies on me. When I’ve dated, I was always a docile and faithful partner. I had no voice, never found it. It’s forever been lodged in the back of my throat.
A soft pop of a trunk opens, gaining my full attention to the black car positioned in front of the neighbor’s house. My captor makes me jump the curb and in the direction of it when I suspend, soaked socks rubbing against the cement.
I expect the trespasser to pull back on me, to threaten or order me to move.
Instead, he pivots and bends over to throw me over his shoulder. Striding the rest of the way, he crams my frame inside the compacted trunk.
My back hits scattered items left inside before it closes overhead.
“She screams,” a deep male voice conveys. “Shoot her in the leg. She continues, knock her out.”
My eyes widen in the darkness. This is serious.
This is really serious.
*SIGH*
Another book done, another set of characters that I’m going to miss.
I love Wade. And Reagan was someone who came full force with her self-destructive ways. Together, they became Catfish, which—in turn—became the duet because apparently my characters don’t know how to shut up and my brain likes to go rouge.
This is the moment that I thank people that I’m grateful for. Where I get sentimental and pour my heart out.
It’s been the same people surrounding me. The members of my tribe that keep me going, get on me when I’m getting on myself and who support me ALWAYS.
To my other half, my little men — I love you little jerks. Everything I do here is for you and my sanity. You’re my entire world.
To my Bae Bae — life wouldn’t be the same without you. You don’t know how much I appreciate you and our three hour long phone conversations.
My Athenas – Your support knows no bounds. Your messages and heart reactions. I adore you all so much.
To new readers — Hi, I’m Hazel. I hope you enjoyed my words as much as I had the time of my life writing them. Thank you for giving me a shot.
OVERCAST is coming, my loves.
Hazel Grace has officially entered the dark side.
Get ready.
Marty has already proven to be a blast.
XOXO,
Hazel Grace