Free MINE! [New World Book 8] by C.L. Scholey Page B

thumb across her shoulder and sighed. His skin touched the last wetness of her tears against his chest.
    “Now I know why I hate it here,” he mumbled. “We’ll leave tomorrow, Becky. There must be somewhere out there you don’t hate. Then again, at least you hate here more than me.”
    He had a point. And at this very moment, she didn’t hate him at all and had no clue why.

Chapter 5
    When light streamed in from the cave opening, Becky shielded her eyes from the wall’s tattoos of depression. During the night, she had turned in Huck’s arms and her ass was pressed uncomfortably against his erection, a very hard and large erection. Through tight fingers, she could make out the movements of stick people forming into shapes to define alien beings recreating their injustice.
    Tugging at her unwilling heart strings to mourn the beings, Becky tried to look away, she wanted to look away. Sadness called to her in imagery. A few small scenarios began and stopped, unable to capture her attention. Her mind was open and foggy with remnants of sleep and the single nightmare that plagued her dreams. The endless senseless depression battled within her thoughts of Earth dying. New shape took form no matter how hard she tried to conceal her hurt. A lone man battled a storm, surrounded in grey; grey skies touched the ground bathing his features in the hateful color. Becky’s breath caught, slick mud gushed around his ankles. Resolve in his features settled as he mournfully gazed in her direction. He gestured her to turn away while a sweet last smile graced his features and he was gone. Enveloped in tragedy.
    Becky knew the story to be true, but her father wasn’t trapped here. His loving memory was hers, not this godforsaken place’s. The mudslide flowed down the smooth surface of the rock unwilling to set her mind free. Becky shifted from Huck; angry and quiet, her fury fueled her motion. Storming to the wall, she wiped her hand across the image, scattering the scene. The black particles relented and before her was an empty grey wall. Dark, miniscule dots hovered near the ceiling awaiting a new tragedy to write. For a moment she stood stunned. Her thoughts had manifested into words to form the picture of her father’s last moments. As if her hand was a blackboard brush wiping chalk marks away, she’d erased the images.
    Concentrating, Becky stared at the wall overcome with vindictive smugness. Write this story, fuck head. Happiness, times where her life was filled with love crashed within her thoughts. The black particles swirled, a tornado spun and exploded, then with defiance stilled. There were no tragedies to follow the memories of picnics, loving embraces, after which she fell asleep into sweet dreams. Her hand on the warm wall, Becky sensed anger in an inanimate object. Tingling flickered across her palm.
    The cavern was damned. Becky was not. A toss of her head and she stepped back. When the dots swirled, she narrowed her gaze. The swirling stopped. Never again would she be forced to look on the face of adversity. She would write her own story and it would not end up on these walls. Empowered, she felt the corners of her lips twitch. When she spun in a slow circle, not a single image assaulted her.
    Outside the sun was shining through haze. Shadow beings appeared and disappeared. She went to find a quiet moment hoping Huck would remain asleep. The prisoner area in his shuttle had a place to relieve needs, but it was open and embarrassing. After her restless slumber, some quiet time was on her agenda.
    Becky ignored the shadow beings arguing, the ones relaying their story, heading closer to the cave where they would stay. The corner of her eye caught the movement, but she wouldn’t let the sad tale upset her. It ended as each grabbed a sharp object and plunged repeatedly into the other until the shadow beings collapsed. As they died, it was only then they realized their love. The beings were sucked into the cave opening.