Until I Really Do

Chapter One

*This book can now be played on Lure Interactive Game app. Simply download the app on the appstore (for IOS) and search for the title.

Ferndale, California 1900

Darkness and smoke worked hand-in-hand to conceal her vision. The pungent smell of alcohol clinging to the sweaty skin of drunken old men assaulted her nostrils, and the thunderous sound of winners and losers on the gambling table, threatened to pull the roof of the old, wooden building down.

Several thoughts raced through her mind as her vision fought to adjust to the dim light, and her nose, to the smell; she shouldn't be here. Being here not only posed a danger to her reputation, it posed a danger to her wellbeing if she was caught.

She shook her head, refusing to be frightened by her thoughts. She had already battled with fear the entire day, and throughout her walk to the tavern. She had come this far and couldn't turn back now. She couldn't turn back, not even when common sense told her it was the right thing to do.

Hunching further down to aid her disguise of an old, unattractive woman who was undeserving of the attention of these men, she forced one foot after the other forward, the path of smoke giving way to her body. Her vision began to adjust to the dim light, making it easier to distinguish the furniture from the drunken men. Her eyes swept the room as she walked, bodies pressed against bodies as men drank and gambled, and women offered themselves up like nothing more than a piece of bone to hungry dogs -some of which were now nibbling on the necks of their bones.

Sharon could barely keep a frown from creasing her face as she maneuvered her way through the tavern, her eyes searching for the familiar circular parting of gray hair in the center of her father's head. She looked out for his dirty, blue shirt with the rip on his left sleeve that she had been meaning to mend, but had been unable to get to due to all the other pressing matters she had to attend to; matters such as putting -and keeping- food on their table, keeping the dust off of what was left of the furniture he hadn't gambled away yet, working in the town's supply shop, and most recently, making certain that her father returned home safe every evening.

Her eyes settled on the tear in his shirt in that second, and while his head rested on the table before him, she was certain she had found her father.

Heaving a breath, she readjusted the scarf over her nose in a bid to keep her face hidden. She took measured steps forward, the sound of the heels of her old, worn boots pounding against the wooden floors, ringing in her ears. The closer her legs took her to him, the louder her heart pounded, until she was standing behind him. She ignored the people around the table, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Pa." She whispered, leaning down and nudging him. "Pa-"

"Knocked out cold," A gruff voice drew her attention to the man seated before her father. He was a raggedy thing, with several days' worth of stubble on his face and dirty, dark brown matted hair seated on his head like a rag's doll. The first four buttons of his worn-out green shirt was left undone, leaving his malnourished chest with equally brown hair on display.

Sharon swallowed, tearing her eyes off of him long enough to shake her father -harder this time.

He jerked upright, a snore emanating from him.

"Pa." She shook him again, only releasing his shoulder once he turned to her with red, watery eyes.

"Elle?" He said, recognition lighting up his face.

Sharon shook her head; she was not Elle, her mother. But she could tell just by looking at her father, that he would much rather have his beloved, deceased wife here, than he would her.