LOGIN"He knew me from the moment I stepped through the broken window.Studying me.Watching me.Changing me.I was unaware of him at first; my life was too out of control to notice. The constant moving and lack of money after Mom divorced Dad was turning her into a different person. All she did was drink and she was now this angry person I didn't want to know.But once I stepped through the window inside that house, I could feel the peace surrounding me. Hugging my body as if it had arms. Protecting me. Loving me. It was like the house knew what I craved and it felt too good to question any of it. So I went back, day after day. I hungrily guzzled up the euphoria like a raging alcoholic, reaching for another drink.Just like my mother…Atticus is created by Leslie Fear, an EGlobal Creative Publishing signed author."
View MoreBrad sucks in a breath when the nurse yanks his arm to strap on the blood pressure cuff. Several layers of white compression bandages are around his ribs and I'm having a hard time believing she didn't notice. I give her a concerned glare. She looks at me then back to Brad. Apparently she finally realized she's been a little aggressive and apologizes, releasing his arm. Clearly, Brad's unscathed because he immediately reaches for my hand. I'm about to get on my knees and beg his forgiveness for putting him here in the first place when there's a knock on the door and we both look up.Two people walk in and it only takes one second for me to realize they're Brad's parents. The concerned looks on their faces pull at my heart. His mother instantly rushes over to him, gliding her palm over his face. Brad's dad follows her, standing behind, as if allowing his wife to have the first moment with their son. "Baby," is the only thing Mrs. Davis gets out before she starts to cry. "I'm okay
Mrs. Stephens starts the first cup and the heavy smell of coffee hits the air. A couple minutes later, she walks back and places two cups on the table before pulling out a chair. "Thanks," I say, taking a sip. She laughs when I make a face. It's the crappiest cup of anything I've ever had. "Yeah, it's pretty bad," she admits, pushing her cup away. Then she cocks her head as if she's sensing my emotions. And she probably is. I'm getting used to it, I think, her reading me."Well, at this rate, the hospital should probably set you up a cot." She laughs, trying to lighten my mood.I'm sure she knows I feel like shit for putting her and Brad through hell. I take another sip, glad it tastes terrible. It's exactly what I deserve.Mrs. Stephens reaches for my hand across the table and I look up to see the kindness in her eyes. I try not to lose it and bawl my eyes out again, so I look away. She squeezes tighter. "You've got to stop beating yourself up about this, Candice.""I can'
When we stop at the front desk of the ICU to check in, the nurse asks us to wait for Dr. Calloway. Apparently, something new has developed with my mom and he wants to talk to me about it. To say I'm nervous would be an understatement. I'm sure she's gotten worse; I'll be an orphan by tomorrow, I just know it.Five minutes later he walks out of the double doors and sits down across from us. He looks at me, then to Mrs. Stephens, asking permission to talk freely in front of her. I tell him it's okay and he scratches his head like he's confused."I'm not sure how to tell you this, but..." He pauses, looking down at his clipboard as Mrs. Stephens takes my hand. Doctor Calloway looks back up at me and says, "Thirty minutes ago, your mother woke up from her coma." His brows push together like he's still in disbelief but then a smile slowly washes over his face. Mrs. Stephens instantly gives me a hug and whispers, "She's free of him, too." I smile back at her, wiping a tear from my ch
**Candice**Mrs. Stephens called Brad's parents immediately after he was admitted, telling them what happened and to come to the hospital as soon as possible. I stood next to her at the pay phone, listening to her story, nervous and shaking and out of my mind with worry for him all at once. She glanced over at me for a split second and rubbed my arm as if she knew I was consumed with guilt. Then she cleared her throat and continued, telling Brad's parents that we'd been investigating the Emory house for a class project at school. She paused, I assume to listen to their concerns, before agreeing it was a really bad idea that we snuck into an abandoned house. She effortlessly described how Brad "lost his balance" at the top of the already dilapidated stairs. Fortunately, she was very convincing and never gave out too many details. Apparently, when parents find out their kids are hurt, how it happened isn't all that important. And the fact that she's an adult who works at the school de


















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