Going Home

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UPDATE: For those of you still around, who were lovely and supportive of me querying this book and only providing the sample, I am uploading the rest of the book. I am no longer looking for an agent for this book, as my next book is out in queryland and doing quite well! *Fingers crossed*

IF YOU HAVE READ THE ORIGINAL: Yes, there are plot changes. I hope you enjoy them! And if not, c'est la vie. :) 

***

The sound of clinking plates and the running faucet woke me up. I rolled over, drool sticking to my cheek as I propped myself up and wiped my face with the back of my hand. Sleep stuck in my eyes, my whole body aching and sore. A steady throb pounded in my temples, each painful beat reminding me that my time was ticking.

Gramps turned around from the kitchen, lying down the plate that he was scrubbing. He filled up a cup with water and sat it down in front of me, stretching out in his armchair, giving me a quizzical but concerned look.

“The cops said you were a runaway.” His caterpillar eyebrows were furrowed with worry.

“Listen, Gramps...I’m sorry about that.”

“They also said your boyfriend was the one who beat the hell out of you. Bruised you up pretty damn good, didn’t he?”

“I...uh...” The words were slow to come, the wire on my side paralyzing me saying anything but incoherent syllables.

“Drink,” he nudged the water towards me and I took a gulp, the coolness a welcome relief against my cracked throat. He gave a grunt of approval as I sat the empty glass down.

“Now unless you’ve been keepin’ secrets from me, you don’t have a boyfriend. So how’d you really end up beaten to a pulp? I got a hunch, but I want to hear it from you.”

“I didn’t go to meet Bree for dinner...”

“That’s obvious.”

Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I scooted into a sitting position, legs tucked underneath me. “I went to meet Calvin. That guy who was at the house the other day. I knew you’d be upset...so I lied about where I was going. After I saw him on the beach, I don’t remember anything else. It’s all blurry.”

Gramps sat back, crossing his arms, obviously aware that I wasn’t telling the whole truth. “Blurry?” He gave a small unimpressed snort. “Well let me tell you what I think happened. I think you got wrapped up with those Aramours. And you’re lucky to be sittin’ here alive. For all I know they drugged you, questioned you, and did god knows what else. Their kind kill Sireneans, girl. The quicker you get that through your head, the better.”

 “I shouldn’t have met up with him, I know. It was a last-minute decision...” I held my finger up to my lips, motioning for him not to respond. “I’m sorry.”

Gramps squinted his eyes, but didn’t say anything. Slowly, I lifted the side of my shirt and showed him the wire, still glowing green, recording our conversation. Slowly, he collapsed backwards in his chair, eyes big, looking stunned, rubbing his salt-and-pepper colored beard that was starting to come in, the result of one too many days without a shave.

I reached towards the coffee table between us, grabbing a fountain pen and an old newspaper with coffee stains, deciding to use the write-it-down technique Calvin had shown me earlier today. Flipping through the paper, I found a large empty area near the classifieds section. I quickly wrote, GPS and recording device. Can’t be taken off without alerting them. Help, please.

I tossed the paper back at him and watched as his eyes scanned my message, beginning to well with tears as he read the last line. “Don’t be sorry,” he said, looking up. “I should have done a better job keepin’ you safe.” His shaky hand covered his mouth as he glanced at me and then to my side where the wire was hidden.  He shook his head, looking down, shoulders bent towards the floor. He looked broken, like the wire on me pushed him over the edge.

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