Darkness Before Dawn
Read Darkness Before Dawn Online
Authors: Claire Contreras
Copyright © 2013 Claire Contreras
eBook Edition
Cover design by Sarah Hansen of
www.OkayCreations.net
Photo credit: Mathilde Skrzyniarz
Edited by Lori Sabin
Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
A & M,
Don't let anybody tell you that you can't do something. Not even me.
You want it, you go after it. No excuses.
Christian,
For not giving up on me, even when I want to give up on myself.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I hug my shivering body and try to picture myself somewhere far, far away. Other than the dirty mattress I lay on, there is nothing here—nothing but the darkness that surrounds me.
At the sound of footsteps approaching, my breathing pounds in anticipation. As he draws closer, it begins to shallow.
When I hear the doorknob turn, I stop breathing altogether. The steps get closer...closer...until they reach me.
The sound of shifting denim fills the empty room as he crouches down in front of me, and I try to hold in my breath as the smell of cigarettes and bourbon that seeps from him tickles my nostrils.
A small whimper escapes me when his calloused hands caress my face and I stifle a frightened quiver that threatens to break out over my body. I never know if I'm going to get nice Alex or not, but if I had a choice I'd go with the latter. Not that I like him either way. I figured I would place him on my shelf of villains. Alex is kind of like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. That's what he reminds me of. He grabs both sides of my face in one of his hands and squeezes it, my own yelp dragging me out of my thoughts.
"Look at me," he demands gruffly.
My eyes peel open slowly to meet his blue eye greets me, soft and warm. His glass eye reflecting the sadness in my own.
"Are you feeling well?" he asks after a beat.
I grind my jaw and glare at him in response. I like it better when he's mean to me, when he's sober. When I don't respond, he sighs deeply, letting go of my face, and sits down in front of me. I loosen the grip I have around myself and sit up, mimicking him.
"Did you eat today?" he asks.
"Yes," I whisper, flinching when he pushes himself up to his knees suddenly and buries his face in his hands. I stare wide-eyed at the back of his blond head before I look around the now dimly lit room. If I had something heavy I could knock him out right now, but of course there's nothing here except that damn broken television and I can't lift that. He takes a long, deep breath before he looks up again, his face glistening.
"It wasn't supposed to be you," he whispers hoarsely, extending his arm to touch my face, brushing my left cheek.
I don't understand what he means by this. If it wasn't supposed to be me, why did he take me? Instead of asking, I close my eyes and think of my rock during these hours, days, months, years. His bright green eyes, crooked smile, dimple, and messy hair. His protective arms and everything they offer me when I need it most. My eyes begin to burn with unshed tears, and for a moment I find my zen because in that moment I'm with Cole.
"I'm sorry," Alex says brokenly. "I'm so sorry," he cries, bringing his face to his knees and clutching the mattress below me with the palms of his hands. My body shakes along with the mattress as he continues to sob in front of me. I don't know what to do, so I just sit wallowing in my own sadness and examining his wide, scraped knuckles.
"Are you going to let me go?" I ask quietly.
Suddenly, he lifts up and sits back on his heels very slowly. His eye darkens as it narrows on mine and the disapproval in them makes my stomach plummet.