Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Jordan?” I whisper, my voice hoarse as if I haven’t used it for a while.
A trembling smile forms on his face, and a tear escapes. “Hi.” He clears his throat, then asks, “How are you feeling?”
“Sore.” My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and I taste something bitter. Antiseptic fluid? My mouth feels impossibly dry, and I add, “Thirsty.”
Jordan lets go of my hand, and I watch as he picks up a glass from the cabinet beside the bed. When he brings it to my mouth, I’m able to lift my head and take a few sips before dropping back against the pillows.
As the water hits my stomach, I begin to feel queasy, and a second later, I’m hit with one horrible memory after another.
“Mom! Dad!” My eyes fly to Jordan’s. “Sage?”
He sits down on the side of the bed and leans over me while gripping my hand in one of his. “Sheriff Williams told me three men broke into the house.”
My lips part, but no sound comes out as the flashes of the nightmarish memories begin to torture me.
Mom’s fingers fumbling in the blood spilling from her neck. Dad being stabbed. Sage’s body jerking with every kick.
“You’re the only one who survived,” Jordan groans, his tone thick with sorrow. He brushes his other hand over the side of my head. “Mom, Dad, and Sage didn’t make it.”
“What?” Even though I hear what he’s saying, my mind refuses to process the words. “Where are they?”
My gaze darts to the door, and instead of accepting what Jordan’s telling me, I take in the fact that I’m in the hospital.
“Kelcie,” Jordan says, his voice breaking from the heavy weight of grief. He waits for me to look at him before repeating, “They were killed. Only you survived.”
Heartache begins to creep into my bones, and I shake my head. “No.”
The sad emotion filling every inch of me begins to grow until it morphs into harrowing anguish. A sob bursts from me, making the dull ache in my torso turn into something so sharp, and I struggle to breathe.
“They’re gone,” Jordan says again as he leans closer to me, more tears rolling down his cheeks and dripping onto the white sheet covering me.
His palm repeatedly brushes over my forehead and hair.
The horrendous events of the attack assault me, and as the excruciating fact that my parents and Sage were killed shudders through me, I begin to weep uncontrollably.
I can’t handle the hell that’s my new reality, and at some point, a nurse enters the room and injects something into my IV.
With Jordan gripping my hand tightly and brushing his other palm over my hair, a medicated drowsiness drags me into an empty darkness.
Chapter 3
Levi
Sitting in front of my laptop, I stare at the title I just typed on the first page.
The Edge of Rationality.
My agent is expecting this book in a year, and I can’t think of a single plot. It took me a week to come up with the damn title.
Since my book The Elimination Project was made into a movie, which received critical acclaim, I’ve been stuck.
Writer’s block is a real bitch.
At first, I was riding the high of signing a film deal, then I was beside myself with happiness when I heard Easton Rowe, the best action star, would be the leading actor. After that, everything became too much. All the attention. The reporters. The fucking messages on my Instagram account from the worthless woman who calls herself my mother. I keep blocking every account she opens, but she doesn’t seem to get the message that I don’t want to talk to her.
Unable to deal with the fame that came from having a bestselling book turn into an award-winning movie, I’ve been hiding from the world, refusing to leave my house here in Grand Rapids.
Thank God for DoorDash.
As I keep staring at the flashing cursor, my thoughts turn to my mother again. All the neglect and pain I suffered because of her and the bastard she married when I was five shudders through me for the millionth time.
My abusive past has shaped my life. I tried the marriage thing, but it didn’t even last a year. I never loved my ex-wife. Honestly, I think I’m incapable of loving another person. She wanted affection, and it’s something I struggle with. When she asked for a divorce, I didn’t put up a fight. I signed the papers and walked away, feeling relieved to put an end to trying to act as if I’m a normal person.
Besides talking to my agent and interacting with some of my readers and fellow authors on social media, I avoid people as much as possible. I’m filled with repulsion from the simplest touch and get annoyed by the slightest thing.
In short, I’m as fucked up as they come.