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:
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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.
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Note from publisher : This book contains some strong language and may not be suitable for younger teens.
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