Surviving Darkness, Loving Fiercely

Surviving Darkness, Loving Fiercely

I. HAWKINS

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The Arizona desert stretched endlessly before us, a shimmering ribbon of highway cutting through red rock and scrub. My best friend Emily and I were three days into our cross-country road trip, the initial excitement long gone, replaced by heat and boredom. Then Emily pointed. "Are you seeing this?" Far off the road, a figure stood, impossibly tall, waving. I dismissed it, thinking of a stranded hiker, already slowing the car. But Emily grabbed my arm, her face drained of color, eyes wide with a terror I' d never seen. "Don't get out of the car," she choked out. "Look at its legs." They were too long, bent at a sickening, backward angle. Then it moved, not walking, but scrambling with inhuman, insect-like speed, closing the distance in seconds. "Run!" Emily screamed. "That's not human!" My foot found the gas pedal, tires spitting gravel as we fishtailed onto the highway. It scraped against the trunk, a sickening thud, then impossibly, kept pace, a spindly shadow in the rearview mirror. We were safe, for a moment, after escaping the desert monster, only to have our tires slashed outside a shady garage. The mechanic and his goons tried to corner us, but a deputy' s timely arrival saved us. We thought it was over. We were wrong. News reports followed us home, showing our "Desert Wendigo" was appearing nationwide. The world wasn't safe. And we knew its dark secret.

Introduction

The Arizona desert stretched endlessly before us, a shimmering ribbon of highway cutting through red rock and scrub.

My best friend Emily and I were three days into our cross-country road trip, the initial excitement long gone, replaced by heat and boredom.

Then Emily pointed. "Are you seeing this?"

Far off the road, a figure stood, impossibly tall, waving.

I dismissed it, thinking of a stranded hiker, already slowing the car.

But Emily grabbed my arm, her face drained of color, eyes wide with a terror I' d never seen. "Don't get out of the car," she choked out. "Look at its legs."

They were too long, bent at a sickening, backward angle.

Then it moved, not walking, but scrambling with inhuman, insect-like speed, closing the distance in seconds.

"Run!" Emily screamed. "That's not human!"

My foot found the gas pedal, tires spitting gravel as we fishtailed onto the highway.

It scraped against the trunk, a sickening thud, then impossibly, kept pace, a spindly shadow in the rearview mirror.

We were safe, for a moment, after escaping the desert monster, only to have our tires slashed outside a shady garage.

The mechanic and his goons tried to corner us, but a deputy' s timely arrival saved us.

We thought it was over. We were wrong.

News reports followed us home, showing our "Desert Wendigo" was appearing nationwide.

The world wasn't safe. And we knew its dark secret.

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Hidden Heiress: The Maid You Betrayed

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5.0

For five years, I was the invisible glue holding Damien Crawford together. I was the one who pulled him from a burning car until the skin melted off my back, and I was the one who donated bone marrow when he was on death's door. I even gave up a full-ride scholarship to MIT just to be his nurse. Yet, he believed his mistress, Hadley, was his savior. To him, I was just the maid's daughter who changed his bedpans—a piece of furniture he could abuse while he planned his wedding to another woman. But his cruelty didn't stop at verbal abuse. When my father suffered a massive heart attack, Damien refused to let me use the car, choosing to comfort Hadley over a fake panic attack instead. His mother even slashed the tires to ensure I couldn't leave. While my father died cold and alone, Damien stabbed a needle into my hand just to teach me a lesson about "respect," oblivious to the fact that the scars on my skin were the receipt for his life. He didn't know he was torturing the only person who had ever truly loved him. But the girl who begged for crumbs of affection died along with her father that day. I picked up my phone and dialed the number saved simply as a dot. "He's dead," I whispered to the man on the other end—Anderson Morrison, the city's most feared Don and my sworn protector. "I'm coming," he replied, his voice lethal. "And I'm bringing the army." It was time to show Damien that he hadn't just mistreated a maid; he had declared war on a Queen.

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