Lincoln From The 100 Novels & Stories

The guards look at me like I've lost it. [Hector, I can't reach you. I'm losing my mind.] [They say if you bleed enough, the person you miss will appear in your dreams. So every night I cut my skin. It hurts, but the more I bleed, the happier I feel—because then I dream of you.] ... Ten thousand messages, all the same unhinged rambling. One thing was clear—Donna's mind was gone.

"Oh, and it's Celene! You're here." "Um, Celene, what's happening? Who are these people?" Clara looked at the three of us. Her face is full of confusion. But when I thought that my trouble will be over... "Hey, don't bully Celene! Just because all of you are Dare, you could do whatever you want with anyone." Ah. Why is Monica here as well? I'm only halfway through the day, yet I'm already exhausted. I kneaded my head as if I were suffering from a headache. Forget about playing with Clara, I just want to go home now.

Indeed, only MY best friend. "Okay." Lincoln's voice pictures his bewilderment perfectly. I still don't have the nerve to look at him. No, scratch that. I still don't WANT to look at him; nerve or not. When he's gone—and I know this especially because I don't feel any looming, stiffling presence on my right anymore—that's the time I dare myself to relax. A little. Or, letting the pain registers. Linc comes back with the boxes several minutes later. We—more like Mo alone, obviously—says our thanks, left a hundred dollar bill on the table, and hightails from there like our butts are on fire.

The canvas was barely four inches by four inches. Lincoln gave me one of his signature looks: half frown, half complete mischief. “I have a plan.” Of course, he didn’t elaborate, but I’d come to listen to Lincoln with more than just my ears. Aunt Betty would be proud.

I gradually began to adapt to my new life here. With Trevor's help, I found a job and even made some new friends. Over time, my life slowly got back on track. Once, I met a charming man who spoke with remarkable poise at the company gathering. He offered to drive me home after the meal had ended. "Are you from Lutheria by any chance, Ms. Norton?" the man asked as he drove. "Yes, that's right. How did you know that?" I was caught by surprise.

Lincoln’s tone changed as quickly as his words. Before him stood a roughly twenty-five year old lady with beautiful feathers and lovely shapes. Her round eyes glistened at the sight of Lincoln, but did not betray the maturity of her womanly features. Her frightened look would lead any man to want her. Just like that, the feeling of annoyance from the collision quickly soothed his frustrated mind.

Day Eleven. The fiftieth floor of the Vane Building smelled of fresh paint, cold espresso, and absolute freedom. I stood in the center of the expansive, open-concept floor plan of Orion Strategies. The walls were floor-to-ceiling glass, offering a panoramic, dizzying view of the city’s financial district. The furniture was sleek, minimalist, and bone-white. There was no mahogany. There was no cedar. There was not a single trace of Silas Sterling in my new empire.

Stella gapes at him. Lincoln smiles. “What- wh- what are, what are you-“ “The cavalry has arrived,” Lincoln announces grandly, cheerfully. Always so bloody incomprehensibly cheerful, how- “What?” Lincoln’s smile turns just an edge softer, for just a moment. He tilts his head backwards, and Stella swivels her head, only to choke at the sight of- of soldiers, several hundred of them, bearing the glorious banner of the Western Plains- Stella’s wide eyes must betray her stupor, for Lincoln drops gracefully to a single knee beside her.

So, I forced myself through seven long years until now, when I finally managed to break free. "Lucas, I'm willing to go abroad with you. I won't care about Ronald anymore. Please forgive me one more time, okay?"

I dragged Lily toward the hospital. She fought me, crying hard. "Dad, save me! I don't want her. I want Sasha to be my mom!" I didn't stop. Wesley Cole shoved me aside and ripped Lily from my grip. "You're insane. You don't deserve to be a mother." A knock hit the door. I opened it. Reporters packed the hallway, cameras and phones aimed right at me. I tried to slam the door, but a reporter jammed it open.