The Switch Novels & Stories

Wendy felt that everything that had happened was just a dream. With difficulty, she crawled to Max and tried to hold his hand. Max loved her the most. Of course, the previous incident must be just a mistake. However, Max pushed her away and said impatiently, “Are you done? You can’t stand the cold. Why didn’t you learn from your mistake and stop? If you can’t stand it, just cancel your so-called senses-switching system!” He felt that his gentle and adorable foster sister had turned into a disgusting person.

She broke up in cold sweat from the excruciating pain. However, Nicholas rushed over and pushed her away. Instead, he picked up the music box behind her and carefully checked if it was broken. Quinn couldn't help but chuckle bitterly upon seeing the sight. She couldn't believe a music box was actually more important than her to him. Upon noticing her gaze, Nicholas carefully placed the music box back onto the shelf before walking over to help her up. Quinn pushed him away with all her might just as he reached out for her. Under his shocked gaze, she struggled to get up by supporting herself with the nearby table.

I blinked, all wide-eyed and innocent. "What are you talking about? I'm not Evelyn Everton. My name's Evelina Everton." Their faces froze as I laid it out. "What, planning to swap my score? Too late. I legally changed my name before the SATs—eighteen, remember? The one who tested was Evelina Everton. "As for Evelyn Everton, the one you messed with? Her family doesn't play nice. Hope you're ready for the fallout."

"That's because the treatments are working. If they weren't working, you'd be weak all the time. I've told you this." "I know, it's just... do I really need to take all of this before I shift tomorrow?" I asked, glancing down at the box in my hands. There were easily twelve bottles of tonic shoved in the crate. Some were the familiar, clear liquid I endured as a young pup. Others were dark and full of that nasty, red, viscous fluid she started treating me with after the start of my fourteenth year.

Cash added. “People can’t be taken if they don’t want to be. If he wants to be with Brittany, then he’ll be with Brittany. If not, then that’s that,” I countered. “And you’re just willingly giving up?” Wes asked skeptically. “I'm not giving up on anything. Again, only people who want to be taken will let themselves be taken," I pointed out. “You’ve got guts,” Cash commented as Six and Brittany came back. She looked sad as she walked over to her friends. “So?” Cash asked Six once he’d sat down. “I did what I should’ve done two years ago,” Six replied.

It was a small black device with a red button in the middle. Alexander’s face changed. “What is that?” I asked, my voice barely coming out. Victor placed his thumb on the red button. “This is my final insurance,” he said. “Black Feather gave it to me before they ran. They called it a dead man’s switch.” Marcus went pale. “Sir,” he said quickly, “that device could be connected to the gas vents.” Victor’s smile widened. “It is connected to more than gas.” He looked straight at Alexander.

The pod fell beyond the edge of the plateau and was gone. Taewi Park was dead. As I stood in shock, Draco was silent for only an instant. With a grunt, Draco removed his hand from his shoulder and held up his radio, seemingly unbothered by the dark blood that coated his hands. "Killswitch is... a highly efficient deterrent to command capsules," he declared. "It seems the same frequency affects their functions. Reactor detonation was unexpected, but... effective." I could barely understand what he was saying. My breath came shallowly and suddenly, like it refused to move from my lungs.

She sipped on her soup as she hurled insults at me. "You got my son killed and birthed a worthless brat in return! You're not getting any of this soup!" This happened on the day my daughter was born. Had I been reborn? I remembered just moments ago, the child who I'd painstakingly raised had unplugged my oxygen supply and then chatted away with the nanny happily. It was then I'd discovered my child had been swapped shortly after birth. I'd died in agony, filled with betrayal and despair. At present, Doris flung her spoon into the thermal container and slammed it onto the bedside table.

"They're trying to calculate my 'Self'. They’re trying to turn my choices into a predictable curve." "Don't let them," Leo said, his "Hollow" chest flaring with a defiant violet light. "Focus on the 'Noise'. Remember the Reverse-World. Remember the mess." The Battle for the Switchboard They entered the Central Hub, a cathedral of shifting probability. In the center sat the Prime Switch—the device that controlled the occlusion of the rifts. Standing in their way was a Vector, a towering entity of interlocking crystal planes that seemed to exist in three places at once.

On August, week before senior year. The book was published. "The Switch: A Story of Identity, Manipulation, and Freedom" By Aria and Sage Chen. Small press, limited run. But it was ours. Our story, our words, our ending. We did one interview on local newspaper. "What do you want readers to take away?" the journalist asked. Sage answered: "That you can survive manipulation. That you can rebuild." I added: "That second chances are real. If you choose them." "What about Victoria Ashford? Have you heard from her since publication?"