I have the most exciting news! Everlasting is free for the New Year! I couldn't think of a better way to start the year off than giving my book to everyone who supports me. Continue reading for a sneak peek.
Chapter 1
New Beginnings. . . Again
2012
Lawrence, Pennsylvania
Tessara Knox
Another nightmare. It was the same thing, every time. Girls, always two of them, but never the same ones, being killed every night. The girls were sisters, sometimes even twins, other times they were friends, or they didn't even know each other. But none of that mattered because they were always murdered together. They were always killed in different ways: shot, ran over, beat to death, stabbed, hung up and tortured until they couldn't take it anymore. The people killing them were always either in trench coats, or cloaks with their hoods pulled up over their heads. I was tired of seeing blood every time I shut my eyes, and waking up in a dead sweat, with my blankets trapped around my legs.
Last night's nightmare had been one of the worse. The girls—they didn't know each other this time, but they were both Asian with dark hair and eyes—had been kidnapped. There were seven men, all dressed in black cloaks, with hoods over their faces. After being taken to an underground holding cell, they were dropped into deep pools of water, their arms and legs tightly bound together. They let them drown, until there were completely out of the air, and had passed out. Seconds before it was too late, they pulled them out of the water, and then they did it all over again when the girls were revived. This went on for hours until the men had finally screwed up pulling them out of the water. The girls died, looking like old prunes.
I woke up with a scream in my throat and felt like I was choking water out of my lungs. It hadn't been real, I reminded myself. But it sure as hell had felt like it was real. My flaming red hair was plastered to my forehead with sweat. And, deep breaths were all I could do to stay sane.
But, today I had bigger problems than constant nightmares. It was our last day of school before we moved to a new state: Utah, of all places. We were leaving for Salem right after school, and I didn't have a choice. It was time to uproot my life, again. Something, I really thought I'd be used to by now.
I pulled myself out of bed and found the only pair of clothing I had not already boxed up. I hated how empty this room was. All that was left was a mattress on the floor, my backpack, a fantasy book—something I never left home without—and the nightgown I had just taken off. I also had a makeup bag that I was now using the contents of, along with a comb.
“Tessara! Come on, you're going to be late!” Aunt Emmaline yelled up the stairs. This was it. Saying goodbye to all of my friends, once again. Leaving a life behind that I was comfortable with, maybe even happy with. My sister and I had moved in with our aunt almost a year ago when our mother had died. We had finally made lives for ourselves here in Lawrence, Pennsylvania and were actually happy. It had taken so long to get to this place after Mom died. I didn't want to leave. Now, we were headed to a new town, new school, and another new house. Also, it was March, the middle of the semester, and I was so close to passing my Junior year with all As and Bs—something that would change the second I started an all-new curriculum.
Also, I read minds. It's really not that big of a deal anymore; it started when I was five, and I've gotten used to it. Once, I learn the atmosphere of a place and have an idea of how many people are there, I can pick and choose who I listen to. Until then, the pain is unimaginable. All those voices pressing in on my mind would feel like a thousand needles were being driven into my skull. It could make me do things I later regretted—things that would make me wonder if I would even have a later. A new place means starting over on learning everyone's mind. Of course, no one knows—well my mother did—it's my problem too bare.
“I'm not moving!” I yelled for the umpteenth time. I stomped down the stairs, my red hair tied in a loose braid over my shoulder and down my side. I wore tight, hip hugger, dark, blue jeans that made my long legs look really sexy and a tight, green T-shirt that had the words gotta love across the chest. It was my last day, so it's not like I could really get in trouble for threatening the dress code.
“I'm not doing this again. You're moving!” Aunt Em—she had reddish-brown hair that barely touched her shoulder, hazel eyes, and was two inches taller than my 5'7, with a very warm smile—said, but what she was thinking was: God, how can I raise my own kids if I can't even get these two to do what they're supposed to. My sister was an amazing mother. I ignored her thoughts the best I could, as I looked at the two-year-old clinging to her pant leg. Tommy, my cousin, sucked the juice from his sippy cup, as he tapped his feet on the floor trying to get his mother's attention. He looked just like his dad with ruffled, light, brown hair and a big smile, but he had his mother's hazel eyes—the eyes both sisters had inherited. Behind him, MiaIsabella stood, my twelve-year-old little sister. Her chocolate brown hair was pulled into a braid and dangled halfway down her back, and her clothes were way too tight for a girl her age. She had been copying me ever since Mother died. I knew I should tell her not to, but it was easier to just pretend it wasn't happening. I didn't want to be her mother, so when it came to stuff like this, I tried not to tell her what to do.
“Whatever,” I replied. I was tired of arguing, and it just upset the kids. “Come on, MiaBelle, we can't miss our last day.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, kissed Tommy goodbye, and slammed the door behind us.
“I hate it when you fight with Aunt Em,” Mia said as she pulled the door of my beat up, old car open. Mother had had a large savings account—that I wasn't allowed to touch until I turned eighteen—but had always insisted that she keep this beat up, old piece of junk. “It still works,” she'd say, but I knew that she only kept it because it was the car my father had bought for her after they got married. With her gone, it was mine and Mia's, along with everything else she had left behind. And, after all these years, I finally understood why she had kept it—this 1993, gray Ford Escort wasn't just a car. It was a memory, and I would never get rid of it either.
“I know, sorry, I just feel like we're never in the same place.” Our mother had passed on in September, and a few weeks later we moved in with Emmaline and Andrew. Now, six months later, we were moving again. The car engine roared to life, and I pulled onto the road, silently wishing this wouldn't be our last day of normalcy.
“Maybe we'll stay in Salem for a while,” Mia said with a smile. She was always the optimistic, even in the darkest of times.
“Maybe,” was my only reply, but I didn't believe it any more than she did.
ENJOY!