Abandonment is one word to describe Evelyn Ward's childhood.
Known as an orphan freak and paranoid schizophrenic, she was dragged through years of therapy after admitting to hearing whispering voices and seeing creatures and living shadows.
...
Since the moment I had left Jorden's house for work the next day, unease had settled in the pit of my stomach. All morning the shadows had been very active; slithering about and crawling across my skin. Their indecipherable whispers scratching at my eardrums making me nauseous. I wanted nothing more than to curl up into a tight ball and stay there until they left, but I knew from experience that letting on about what I saw and heard only made people wonder about my sanity.
If I told no one about the wraiths, I could pretend like everything was normal, but therapy and medication? No, I left the life of a freak behind three years ago when I left the system -- I had no desire to show others just how much of a mess I am inside.
The hissing voices rose to an unrelenting cacophony and a sharp pain pierced the back of my neck. Slapping my hand to the sting, as if swatting at a mosquito, I cringed at the sharp claws dragging a path down my spine.
Absorbed as I was in my personal hell, I didn't even hear the ding of the bell as the door swung open.
"Holy hot damn." Chelsea's whisper broke through my haze and brought my attention to the young man who had entered the Shake Shack. "I could just eat him right up."
Tall and extremely well-built, dressed in dark jeans and a tight shirt that displayed his mouthwatering physique, I couldn't help but agree with her. His dark hair contrasted his flawless, fair skin, accenting his sculpted, angelic features. But what drew my attention the most was the way the shadows slipped away from him.
He walked toward the counter, his gait reminding me of a panther; a graceful, predatory lope that accelerated my heartbeat. The shadows fled in his wake, and their slithering voices silenced. He leaned against the counter, his gaze focused on the space beside my head.
"Excuse me, ladies." His eyes flicked to meet mine and Chelsea's. The sultry, smooth timbre of his voice set my body on fire almost as much as his piercing green-eyed gaze. He reached out his hand as if meaning to caress my cheek. The claws grasping my neck released me and the shadow's weight dissipated. My breath hitched and I tensed, but his arm switched direction and he simply ran his hand through his dark locks and he flashed a heart-stopping smile. "Would either of you be able to tell me the way to the New York Historical Society? I haven't been in Manhattan long, and I keep finding myself getting lost."
"You're not too far, Sweetie." Chelsea leaned over the counter a touch farther than necessary, causing the v-neck of her tacky, beige uniform to reveal more cleavage than what I might've called modest. "Just head East down 77th, it's the big building on the corner. You can't miss it."
He offered his thanks and turned to leave. Chelsea watched his butt on the way out the door; all I could think about was all the reasons why his presence chased away my demons.
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What do you think of our sexy stranger? A mere coincidence? or something far more sinister?
Tell me what you think in the comments below - I look forward to hearing your opinions :)
Shout out to newsies- for creating a lovely book mockup, and story add
