Sometimes the difference between fact and fiction is vast... And sometimes it isn't.
In perception, a young woman struggles with survivor's guilt following the death of her father while simultaneously harboring the growing suspicion that something sinister has taken hold of her twin sister.
Read an Excerpt:
In the beginning, there was a single doe. It lay on an asphalt tree-lined road, its fragile body losing breath as quickly as the day had lost its light. Its black eyes, unfathomably deep, took in the sight of its surroundings- of the world it was born unto.
The stars and the moon that lit all of the nights before this, the windblown trees that shaded the warmest of days, the sharp green blades of grass and smooth scarlet skins of berries that fed the doe from birth ‘til now; all these things, the doe understood. All these things, it had come to cherish.
But on this night, there were other things present that the doe had no understanding of. Firstly, the pool of red spreading around it, warm and sticky and smelling of pine. Secondly, the mass of crushed metal and glass, glinting on the asphalt a little ways away. Thirdly, the girl looking back at it, meeting its black eyes with hers.
In the beginning, there was a single doe. But it was not alone. There was a girl. She lay on the asphalt tree-lined road, her broken body losing heat as quickly as the car had lost control. Her frosted sapphire eyes, incomparably hollow, watched the doe as its chest stopped half-rise. She could almost sense its spirit leave, slip out its mouth with its last breath.
As she laid there, her skin going cold and body going numb, she could hear nothing but the crickets. See nothing but the dim glare of the headlights fading into the night as the car battery neared death too.
She was next. She could feel it. The drifting, the sliding. The veil of darkness melting over her. She had never considered the feel of death, but she never thought it would feel like this. Nauseous, glacial.
For a moment, a long unending one, everything went silent, not even the murmur of her heartbeat to be heard. Then, as her eyes fell closed and the blackness of the inside of her lids painted over the blackness of the night, she heard it: her name whispered into the crisp air of the early spring night.
Like a gust of wind before a storm, a surge of momentarily silent crickets, birds, squirrels, bees, owls, wolves- the entirety of the woods it seemed- echoed to her all at once as her consciousness came sweeping back.
The girl’s eyes flickered open, slowly sliding across the asphalt to the pool of red where the doe had been laying breathlessly. It lay unblinking, its black eyes appearing reflective copper in what remained of the faint headlights; the same as they had been in front of the car before the halting collision.
The girl, laying there on the cold abandon asphalt road, blinked away tears as the heat in her body began to climb. She had been afraid, terrified that she had been on the brink of death or that she had died altogether. But looking upon the doe, she saw what true death looked like. The girl was not dead. She was alive, slowly finding her breath again.
That girl- alone in the darkness on that cold spring night, hearing no sirens in the distance yet breathing more steadily with every passing moment- she was you.
Note from publisher : This book contains some strong language and may not be suitable for younger teens.