by A. M. Irvin
Thump. Thump.
I began to laugh uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop. I sounded cracked and torn. My laugh was breathy and became lost in the oppressive heat and lurking gloom.
“I knew I wasn’t alone,” I declared, though it was a lie.
I was used to being adrift in my solitude.
But I had hoped.
My god, I had hoped.
I leaned my shoulder against the wall, cradling my still roughly bandaged wrist to my chest. It throbbed, but I didn’t look at the mutilated skin underneath.
It was then that I saw something I hadn’t noticed before. A two-inch gouge in the wall five inches up from the floor. Hazy light filtered through, and I knew that it led into whatever lay beyond the room I was in.
Where the noise had come from.
I dropped down onto my haunches and looked through the hole.
At first it was blurry. Non-descript. But I could tell that the room beside mine was brightly lit.
Was that a table in the middle of the room? And it seemed there were objects lining the walls. I couldn’t make out what they were, but some were larger than others.
I squinted. I pulled the skin at the corner of my eye taut to try to clear my vision. I tried to see as much as I could with what little eyesight I had.
And then I saw something that made me pause. Made my heart flutter madly in my chest.
There was someone lying on the floor only five feet or so from the hole I was looking through. I could tell it was a person by the shape and length of it. The body was still. So very still. And even though I couldn’t make out much, it was close enough to the wall that I could see some details.
And what I saw made me lurch backwards in shock. I stumbled and fell over.
“Oh god,” I keened through my ruined throat.
“Oh god!”
I didn’t want to look through the hole again. But I couldn’t stop myself. I had to make sure. I had to know.
I pressed my face against the wall.
Tears fell down my cheeks.
Cutting through the dirt with thin slices of anguish.
They fell and fell.
Because now I knew that I wasn’t alone in this hell.
I had company . . .
The Past
or
The Present
Somewhere in between
The smoke filled my nostrils. I was watching it burn.
Burn to the ground.
Smoldering ash lifted into the sky, and my eyes blurred with tears.
I pressed my fist to my mouth willing myself not to cry.
Crying was useless. What would be the point?
Life as I knew it was over.
“You don’t deserve any of them, you know.”
I didn’t turn at the sound of the voice. I didn’t need to. I could see her face without having to look at it. Beautiful. Wicked. Hateful.
A face I could have loved, but my cold, warped heart hadn’t been able to. She hadn’t let me. And I hadn’t wanted to.
She was my reminder that I had never been capable of affection.
“I know,” I said, agreeing with her statement, because it was the truth.
Rosie came up and stood beside me. We both stared off into nothing. Smoke. Fire. Ash.
It all burned.
“You like to play the victim. You do it really well. But I know better. I know that’s not who you really are,” Rosie sneered.
I wished she would leave. Why was she here at all? She shouldn’t be.
But I should have known she’d always show up when I didn’t want her to. She loved to witness my vulnerabilities. She delighted in my catastrophe.
“I’m not playing anything,” I argued.
Rosie laughed and I hated the lovely sound. It danced over her tongue and rang in my ears.
“Don’t you remember that day I found you in my room? I knew what you were doing? I saw through you then and I see through you now.”
I frowned, not understanding what she was talking about.
“The ring?” Rosie prompted, looking down at my hand.
I twisted the thin, silver band around my thumb. The tiny, engraved symbols flashing in the flickering light.
“How did I get this?” I asked her, knowing she was setting me up. Just like she had done when we were children. She’d make it look as though I had stolen it. She’d make me think that I had, even if I knew that it wasn’t true. Rosie had a talent for distorting reality to fit her version of the truth.
She was ruthless in her pursuit of falsehoods.
“Don’t you remember?” she taunted and I shook my head. I hated her games. She played them so well.
“I only ever wanted you to like me,” I told her, hoping she believed me. Even as I detested her, I could still remember how much I had wanted to be her sister. For a brief time she had mattered to me. Before her cruelty had made it impossible.
Rosie snorted, still looking at the ring that had found its way onto my finger. “No, you didn’t. You wanted to be me. Then you wanted to get rid of me. You were jealous. You hated that I was beautiful and that Lesley loved me. You never understood that you were the reason that love evaded you. It had nothing to do with your hideous face. It had everything to do with who you are.”
Sparks lifted into the sky and the wind carried them off to make bigger fires somewhere else. Spreading the destruction as far as possible.
“You don’t know anything about me, Rosie. Nothing at all.”
The woman beside me wormed her way into my brain with her hurtful comments. It fed the dark fears inside me. She knew that. She knew how to make me believe absolutely everything she said.
“Ask your mother,” she stated callously.
“I can’t,” I replied.
“Ask your dad,” she continued, her smile mean.
My tears began to fall. Her evil knew no bounds.
“I can’t!” I screamed.
Rosie leaned in, her lips a breath from my skin. My flesh recoiled. “Ask Bradley. Ask Maren. Ask them all!” she yelled, and I covered my ears just wanting her to leave. But she’d never give up tormenting me.
I shook my head back and forth.
“Why are you like this? Why can’t you ever be nice to me?” I begged. I pleaded. I just wanted her to leave me alone.
Rosie’s eyes narrowed, her face no longer beautiful. She was the ugliest person I had ever seen.
“You already have all the answers, Nora. Don’t you?”
I stayed silent.
Rosie’s face turned red with her rage.
“Don’t you?” she shouted as the fire burned and the world around me crumbled.
Invisible.
Unseen.
Deceit at all cost.
No one will miss
The little girl lost . . .
To be continued . . .
Volume II
Lies
COMING SOON!!!
Days. Hours. Minutes.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here.
Time becomes meaningless when you’re lost.
I thought I was alone, but I was wrong.
She’s here with me.
My companion or my captor?
Everything I thought I knew is a lie. Memories turn to delusions. Promises become poison laced with dishonesty.
And still we sing. Our song. Our past.
Our dark, dangerous present.
And in this room of blood and agony, we have found our home . . .
Read other books by A. Meredith Walters
This is for the usual suspects. You know who you are.
And for the readers who enjoy the dark and different.
A.M. Irvin is the pen name of A. Meredith Walters who is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Contemporary and New Adult romances including the Bad Rep, Find You in the Dark, Reclaiming the Sand, and Twisted Love series. She is also the author of the psychological thriller, The Contradiction of Solitude. A.M.
Irvin writes thrillers that keep you guessing and makes you want to sleep with the light on.
Before becoming a full time writer, she worked as a counselor for troubled and abused children and teens. This Virginia native currently lives in England with her husband and daughter.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without express permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of all products referenced in this work of fiction.
All rights reserved.
Copyright © A. Meredith Walters/A.M. Irvin
Cover design © Amy Queau/ Qdesigns
Editing services by Tanya Keetch/ The Word Maid
Interior designed and formatted by:
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Books by A. Meredith Walters
Dedication
Clues
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
The Missing Volume II Lies
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright Notice