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Revolutionary Love (The Revolution Series Book 1)

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by Jessica Miller




  Table of Contents

  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

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  My eyes drifted open. A sharp pound was echoing throughout my head and my mouth was extremely dry. Squinting my eyes against the sharp sunlight, I attempted to push myself to a sitting position. My feeble arms gave out instantly. That’s when I noticed the noise… the smell. Rosemary. I was not in my bedroom. My head fell to the side. I squinted through my eyelashes and noticed a small tube hooking up to an IV bag. My heart rate was displayed on a little screen hooked up to it. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  The sound of a door creaking open set the pace of my heart faster. Quickly, I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. Where was I? I couldn’t remember anything. This was not a hospital, it was a bedroom. The thick, warm comforter felt as if it was two hundred pounds of steel pressing into my body. Instantly, I felt trapped.

  Footsteps stopped at the end of the bed. Someone was watching me. I tried to breathe evenly to slow my heart rate. I failed. My hands shook and fear gripped my stomach. I could hear even, calm breathing. It was not mine. I was breathing heavily through my nose as if I just ran a marathon.

  “Open your eyes, Evelyn.” A calm, smooth voice demanded.

  Evelyn? My name was Brianna. In response, my eyes squeezed shut even tighter. I do not know why I was so afraid of opening my eyes. I think somewhere deep, down inside I knew that when I opened my eyes my world would be altered. Everything would fall apart. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled in fear. Something was not right.

  I flinched when the person’s hand touched my hair. An image of a snake filled my mind. I have always trusted my intuition about people. This man was not a good man. I bit my tongue, holding back from telling him to get his disgusting hands away from me.

  He twirled a lock of my hair between his fingers and sighed. “I am glad to see you are alive, but do not be afraid. Open your eyes.”

  Obligating, my eyes opened. A man, about 6’2, stood over me. Looking down at me. His complexion was tan, his shoulders broad, and his grey eyes were a blank slate. The corners of his mouth were turned up in a faint smile. A fake one. He had midnight black hair that was pulled back into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. I would have assumed he was in his mid-twenties if it weren’t for the faint grey hairs by his temples and the frown lines that surrounded his mouth.

  Clearing my throat, I broke eye contact. “Who are you?” I rasped. My throat felt like claws were dragging down it when I spoke.

  He chuckled. I do not know what was funny about the situation. I squeezed my hands into a fist and gasped when I felt a sharp sting of pain. Glancing down, I saw that my hands were wrapped in gauze. What happened to me? Flipping my hands over, I peered down at my palms. The gauze was stained a ruby, red. I was bleeding.

  “Do you not remember?” The man inquired, giving me a curious look. He made me feel like I was an alien specimen from another planet.

  I gave a half shrug, holding back all the questions that wanted to burst from my lips. Something was terribly wrong with this situation. I glanced towards the wooden door. I needed to escape from here. I did not know what was going on, but I had the feeling that a prisoner would have. Trapped. Isolated. Alone.

  The man leaned forward, making me shrink further back into the plump pillow behind my head. The aroma of expensive, musty cologne filled my nose. It made me want to gag. I held my breath when he pulled me into a sitting position and placed the pillows carefully behind me to hold my body up. My brain felt foggy, I was confused.

  I averted my eyes away from his sharp stare. A vanity was across from the bed I was on. It was full of jewelry. A diamond necklace twinkled in the sunlight. A real diamond necklace. My stomach dropped even further. Whoever these people were, they had money. That necklace probably cost seven times the amount rent did at my apartment. Why would they place me in such a luxurious room?

  When the silence began to be too much, I spoke. “Who are you?” I asked for the second time, looking directly into his steel eyes.

  He frowned. “Who are you?”

  I bit back a growl of frustration. He was asking me who I was. For all I knew, he was the one that brought me to this foreign place. The beeping on the heart monitor picked up its pace again. I felt sweat drip down my temples. My knees shook beneath the covers. The urge to scream overcame me.

  “I am not sure,” I mumbled, once again licking my dry lips. My name was Brianna Li Pierce. I was an only child, an orphan, someone who was unnoticed. I did not feel as though I should say all this, though, so I stuck with lying. Sometimes lying was safer than the truth.

  Pulling a crystal glass off of the bedside table, he handed me water. Wrapping my shaky, weak hands around the water, I gratefully brought it to my lips. Once moist, cold liquid touched my mouth, I could not stop myself from drinking the entire glass in a few gulps. Although I was sure I was in hell, the water was heaven.

  He took the glass from my hands and sat it down. “I am going to be blunt with you, Evelyn.”

  I cringed at the name. His sharp eyes caught my uncomfortable movements. I held his gaze and hoped the lie was not written all over my face.

  Pursing my cracked, dry lips I said, “Be blunt.” Maybe now I would get the answers I needed.

  “The rebels set a bomb off at the media meeting you attended a week ago. It was a small bomb, probably meant to scare more than do harm. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You have sustained a lot of injuries. Burns cover your back, your palms were sliced open from glass, a piece of the roof came down on your head, and some on your legs. Your ribs are bruised. You will live.” He watched my face throughout his small speech on my well fare.

  It took everything I could to not burst into laughter. Rebels? Media meeting? Bomb? Was this some kind of sick joke. I lifted my weak arm to the back of my head and flinched when I touched the egg bump. I was injured, I knew that for sure. I just did not think I was injured the way he thought I was injured. I brought my hands down and peered at the gauze again. That’s when I noticed my skin color. Pale. My once tan skin now looked like it was the color of the moon. My freckle on my index finger was in the same place, but my skin tone was completely different.

  I swallowed a few times, my mouth suddenly dry again. “How long was I asleep?”

  “Seven and a half days. You are lucky to be alive.” The man gave me a closed off expression. He knew something wasn’t right. I knew something wasn’t right. I felt like I was playing a chess game, but making all the wrong moves.

  “I do not know who you are.” At this truth, my heart pounded in my chest. He does not know who I am. He thinks I am someone else. When I tried to think back on the last thing I remembered, the throb in my skull returned.

  “Your
head was hit harder than I thought it was,” He muttered, turning and abruptly leaving the bedroom.

  Without thinking things through clearly, I acted on pure instinct. Tossing the heavy comforter off of me, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The second my feet hit the ground, I collapsed to the floor. I bit back a scream as pain shot through my entire body. My back was on fire, my rib felt like someone slammed a sledgehammer on it, my legs felt pain everywhere, and my head. Oh my God, my head. I think a semi-truck slamming into my head would have hurt less. The room began to spin around me and my mouth tasted like pennies. My arms gave out from underneath me and I completely fell to the floor. A bar landed on top of me. Barely opening my eyes, I saw the IV bag.

  My loud groan filled the silent room. The heart monitor was silent. I would have thought I was dead if I didn’t feel my heart slamming into my rib cage. Ignoring the pain throughout my entire body, I shoved the bar off of me. I felt a small prick where the tube was connected to my arm. Looking at the crease, I noticed a little drop of blood.

  I needed to get out of there. I used the nightstand to help me get to my feet. My legs wanted to give out. I forced myself to stand. I was not a quitter. I was seeing doubles. I pushed myself to the wall and used it to support my weight. There was another door on the other side of the room. I paused and listened. Silence met my ears. Slowly, I made my way to the door hoping it was another way out. Twisting the knob, I groaned in frustration. It was a bathroom. A huge bathroom. The floor was made out of marble and the bathroom counter was made out of black granite. What an odd contrast. A huge bathtub sat in the middle of the bathroom. An urge to bathe overcame me. I could just imagine my sore muscles loosening in warm water.

  That was a fantasy and right now I needed to focus on reality. My eyes shifted to balcony doors further into the bathroom. An escape route. My legs felt like they were trudging through wet sand as I walked through the bathroom. My right knee gave out. A startled gasp left my lips. Using the cold counter to hold myself steady, I gave myself a moment to breathe. What was I going to do when I got outside? Run? I could not run. Scream? I didn't even know if anyone was here to help. What would I even say? Hello, my name is Brianna and a strange man keeps calling my Evelyn and I have no idea where I am, nor do I know how I got these wounds?

  Tears of frustration filled my eyes. Think. What do I remember? I do not remember a bomb, or ‘rebels’, or anything. I don’t even remember what I ate last. I lifted my head and stopped breathing the moment I saw myself in the mirror. My once short cropped brown hair was now long curly locks sitting right above my waste. My tan skin was now a creamy white color. Freckles were sprinkled across my nose and collar bone. Slowly, I opened my mouth. My tongue piercing was gone. I was wearing a lacy black nightgown. I never wore lace. I checked both of my arms for tattoos, but none were in sight.

  Bringing my unsteady hands up to my head, I pulled at my hair. I pulled and pulled until chunks of my hair came out. It made the almost unbearable pain inside my skull worse. My hopes did not come true. My hair was real. I quickly turned on the faucet and scrubbed at the skin on my arms, praying makeup would come off and my tattoos would be visible. Leaning closer to the mirror, I opened my mouth wide and peered at my tongue. There was no hole. It was me staring back at myself, but it was not me. Everything I changed about myself was gone.

  I laid my bandage covered hand on my stomach and pressed down slightly. My stomach was soft. No muscle. No abs. Ripping the bandage of me, I looked at my fingers and palms. I had no calluses. My hands were soft. I barely noticed blood seeping from the gashes across my palms. If I thought I felt fear when that man was in the bedroom, it was nothing compared to the fear I felt now. Who was I?

  I panicked when I heard voices and footsteps coming closer from down the hall. I was not who they thought I was, but I was not who I thought I was either. I tore my gaze away from the stranger looking back at me in the mirror and pulled myself closer to the balcony. I could have been gone by now.

  “What are you doing?”

  My spine stiffened. He was back. It felt like it took me long minutes to turn around when it only took seconds. The man had another person with him. He wore a white lab coat and black slacks underneath. His head was full of grey hair and his eyes looked worn out and tired. He peered at me with caution.

  I opened and closed my mouth a few times. What does someone say in a moment like this? I felt something could trickle down my hand onto my fingers. When I looked down, I watched crimson blood drip to the floor.

  The man in the lab coat stepped closer into the bathroom. It used to feel huge, but now I felt like all four walls were closing in on me. I tensed, ready to run. Lab coat man must have sensed it. He immediately stopped coming closer and raised his hands, palms up, as if he were talking to a skittish child.

  “My name is Dr. Lynn and I am here to help you, Evelyn. Why don’t you come back to bed so I can re-bandage you and help you feel better?” His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

  I backed up another step. Closer to the balcony. Closer to freedom.

  “I do not think she remembers who she is or knows where she is.” The dark man spoke. He had his arms crossed over his chest in a lazy manner like he had better things to do than to be here watching me.

  “I am Evelyn,” I said, copying the name they seemed intent on calling me. The name was foreign on my tongue. It sounded awkward leaving my mouth.

  They both glanced at each other and shared a look. Should I tell the truth and say my real name? I gnawed on my lower lip. They were staring at me again.

  Lab coat man tilted his head to the side and regarded me carefully. I subconsciously crossed my arms over my chest, remembering I was in a flimsy nightgown. Who changed my clothes? I blinked a few times as dizziness overcame me. Blackness slipped into my vision. One moment I was standing, the next moment I was free falling, and the last moment everything went dark. Silent.

  Chapter Two

  My eyes shot open. It was not a dream. The same rosemary scent from earlier drifted through my nose. I struggled to get myself into a sitting position. I sat in the dark, silent room for a few moments. I was alone. Now was my chance to escape. I thought about my failed attempt earlier. I had passed out. How far would I make it this time before I passed out again? I pressed my hands into my face. The doctor wrapped gaze on my palms again. Something was strapped around my head. I pulled it off, only to see that they had wrapped an ice pack to my head.

  I needed light, but it was not a good idea to turn on the lamp. I did not want anyone to know I was awake. Taking things slow, I moved the comforter off of me and slid out of bed. My knees trembled for a few seconds.

  “You can do this,” I whispered words of encouragement to myself.

  My feet padded on the flush carpet. Reaching blindly for the door that lead into the hallway, I came to a halt when I heard footsteps. I held my breath, listening. Someone was pacing outside the door. They had someone on watch. It was official, I was a prisoner.

  I backed away from the door, not letting that deter me. A slow pound began to fill my head again. Just how hard was my head hit? I slid through the door that led to the bathroom and clicked it shut behind me. Locking the door, I flipped on the light.

  I let my eyes adjust for a few seconds. Now was my chance to escape. The marble floor was ice, cold against my bare feet. I looked down. What was I going to do? Escape in a tiny nightgown with no shoes? I needed to change my clothes. Looking around the bathroom that was the size of my studio apartment at home, I spotted another door. A closet, maybe?

  Opening the door, I was relieved to see clothes. I had never seen so many clothes packed into a closet before. Stepping inside, I noticed it smelt like vanilla. Potent vanilla. I crinkled my nose in disgust. Quickly shifting through the clothes, I realized I was not going to find a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Everything in here was extremely fancy. I settled on a black cashmere sweater and a black lengthy skirt. The girl did not even own one pai
r of jeans. Looking towards the shoes, I groaned. I had a feeling I was not going to find any tennis shoes. I was right. There were only pumps and flats in here.

  Exiting the closet, I knew it was now or never. I shut off the lights and didn’t bother waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dark. Curse words slipped out from my mouth when I stubbed my toe on the bath tub. I remembered admiring it earlier in the day. Who places a huge bathtub in the middle of the bathroom?

  With every step I took, the pain in my legs and ribcage got worse. I had a sinking feeling that before I even got far the pain was going to be unbearable. Like a thief in the night, I slid out the balcony doors. I was on a patio. Looking right and left, I realized the patio stretched all the way around the house. My heart stopped when I heard footsteps coming from the right. I walked to the edge of the porch and internally screamed as I lifted my body over the wooden railing.

  A sharp breeze blew the long skirt around my ankles and almost tripped me as my feet landed on the ground. The drop was maybe three feet but felt like ten feet. I ducked and pressed my back against the wood behind me. When I no longer heard the footsteps, I pushed myself up and slightly jogged through the tall grass. I was heading straight towards a forest. I was in the middle of nowhere. I attempted to distract myself from all the pain I was feeling. I needed to focus on making it to the woods without getting caught.

  This was too easy. In all the horror movies I watched, it was always said to never look behind you. Although I felt like a piercing gaze was burning a hole in my back, I kept my eyes forward. I was determined. When I got determined, there was no stopping me.

  I felt safe, yet in danger the moment I disappeared into the dark, ominous trees. Tree branches scraped across my cheeks and I tripped over tree stumps countless times. Why did I think it was a good idea to run? Why did I not just stay and explain that my name was Brianna and something weird was going on? What exactly would I have said? I was in the same body, but my body was different. My hair suddenly grew a foot and my tattoos were gone? I laughed without humor. This is a dream. There was no way this could be real.

 

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