The international singing sensation, Ghost Bird, is a name known around the world. No one knows who the mysterious singer is, but everyone knows her music.
Sang Sorenson sings to escape the reality of her hard life. Locked in a house with her mother...
I am so in love with this song that it isn't even funny.
Just in case you didn't see the message I sent out regarding my other fanfic Sang Insane:
I will be editing Sang Insane soon! I will give a head's up before I start changing things, but I will start soon (this month-September, depends on how busy/bored I am).
Please comment on Sang Insane anything that you notice! I will be able to get the grammar on my own, but let me know of any and all plot holes or even anything that doesn't seem right (like a strange reaction that doesn't fit the character).
Let me know if you want anything included, like a scene that you would love to see! I might say no, but I would love to hear suggestions on how to make it a better book.Thank you all and go comment on Sang Insane!!
(I just copied and pasted it, lol)
Enjoy!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Ducking down, I try to avoid the knife, but I didn't see it soon enough and the tip of it drags against my cheek, opening up a new cut. Hot blood runs down my cheek. Flames of pain dance on my cheek and Mother is now even more furious at my attempt to avoid her.
I just had to avoid the knife, though. It came so close to my eye, the right one, the only one that I can see perfectly out of. In fact, I think I see better than most in my right eye based off of my books, Wil, and Mother, otherwise known as my whole world.
Mother roars, "Who do you think you are?! You can't run from me!"
I furrow my brow and defend without thinking, "I wasn't running, I was ducking."
Mother whips her head around, her long blonde hair whipping through the air as she snaps her attention to me. She looks at me with a dangerous look in her green eyes, the eyes I inherited from her.
"Did you just talk back to me?" Mother hisses lowly.
"N-no?" I stutter, my eyes wide as fear and dread fill me.
"You did! Don't lie!" Mother screeches, leaping for me.
Instinctively, I turn away from her and her hands. Mother grabs my hair and yanks me to the kitchen. A whimper makes it way past my clenched teeth and Mother laughs at the sound.
"Yes, cry like the little girl you are, Olivia," Mother laughs.
Olivia? That's a new one. Mother often forgets what my name is and calls me by a different name, but she has never called me Olivia before. Besides, her order is too late. The tears are already pouring down my face. At first, it was only one from the surprise and pain of having my hair ripped. That lone tear dripped into my fresh cut and reignited the fire there. It isn't the first time I have had salt rubbed in a wound, however, with each time, I feel as if it hurts worse than the last time.
"Bethany! Sit!" Mother commands.
Dutifully, I sit on the stool that Mother tells me to. I flinch back as Mother slams around in the cabinets and pulls out the two necessary ingredients for the world's worst concoction: bleach and vinegar.
Seeing my growing dread, Mother smiles widely and cooes, "Yes, Eliza, it's time for you to drink up."
A whimper escapes me as she slides over a glassful of the mixture. My hand shakes as a reach for the glass, but I know there will be terrible consequences if I refuse.
It is just a glass, I tell myself. You have had much, much worse than this. Don't make things worse for you by refusing because you are too cowardly to just drink a glass of this.
I grip the glass and put it to my lips. The awful smell invades my senses and makes me want to throw the glass against the wall and refuse to drink it. But I am not a toddler, I am too old to be throwing temper tantrums. Parting my lips slightly, I tip the glass back and a fresh wave of tears pour down my face. The liquid burns all the way down, burning the tissue in my mouth, esophagus, and stomach. My chest hurts and I feel the need to vomit, but I know that will only make things worse. The room spins around me and I am dizzy and about to fall over even though I am sitting down. Only my good eye is working at all, leaving me partially blind.
Mother yells something at me, but I can't understand what she is saying. It is as if I am underwater, like in the bathtub. Everything is muted and sounds funny except my pounding heart. Gripping the counter like a lifeline, I blink my eyes and try to bring the room back into focus. I want to puke, but I know that will only make things worse for me and make the bleach and vinegar burn on the way out.
Mother storms out of the room and I topple from the stool. I stagger to the sink and stick my face under the faucet. Gulping down as much water as possible, I try to dilute the mixture as best as I can. I collapse to the ground and drag a hand over my face as I curl up into a ball.
Trying to find some peace in this madness.
Trying to find the patience to wait.
Because my saviors will be here soon.
I know it.
They have to come.
***
Nathan
I sit there, playing with the ends of my auburn hair as I open up a website on my laptop. I am working with a few of my brothers, trying to find this Ghost Bird.
My eyes grow wide as I look over the article on the website.
Leaping from my chair, I shout, "I found her! I found Ghost Bird!"
