Free Rescuing Liberty: Perseverance Book 1 by Amanda Washington Page A

But the nation was already in
trouble. Too many had been out of work for too long. My own
unemployment was about to run out. People were starving before this
even happened. They kept telling us the worst of it was over. That
the recession was ending. We never saw it coming.”
    I had always respected our laws and
the authority of our country’s leaders. Raised in church, I’d
memorized Hebrews 13:25 as a child. “Obey
your leaders and submit to their authority. They keep watch over
you as men who must give an account.” I will not envy
our leaders when they are called to give an account to their
Creator as to why they forsook the people whose lives He had
entrusted them to lead.
    Shaking my head I attempted to eradicate
such condemnatory thoughts. My mother’s voice sounded in my head,
reminding me that I was in no position to throw stones. “Judge not,
lest ye be judged.” My own judgment day already loomed before me
like an oncoming storm, growing in power and menace as it drifted
ever closer. I could only pray God’s grace was greater than my
sins.
     
    * * *
     
    THUD
     
    The faint sound pulled me
from my sleep. I grabbed my dagger from the nightstand and held my
breath, waiting for confirmation that something was amiss. Minutes
passed, and nothing could be heard over the pounding of my heart. I
stared at my bedroom doorway, but no boogeyman appeared.
    ‘ Just a dream, dummy,’ I
said, creeping out of bed and into the living room.
    But it hadn’t been a
dream—there was someone in my apartment. I stared at the slightly
ajar door that led to the common hallway. My sanctuary had been
breached. Before I even had time to properly freak out about the
situation, hard, cold metal pressed against my temple. I closed my
eyes and silently prayed for intervention.
    “ Hello, beautiful. Drop the
knife.”
    The voice belonged to my
neighbor, Rodney. Like the rest of the people in my building, he
was little more than a stranger. I only knew his first name because
he’d asked me out on numerous occasions, and I’d always
declined.
    I slowly lowered my dagger to the floor.
“What do you want?”
    “ I was worried about you,
Babe.” With his spare hand he played with one of my
curls.
    “ How thoughtful.” I
shuffled my feet nervously. “So you decided to … what? Break into
my apartment and put a gun to my head?”
    It took him entirely too
long to ponder my question, but he’d never seemed overly
intelligent. Then again, men who lean out their apartment window
yelling things like ‘Hot momma, shake it for daddy,’ rarely are. It
was more than that though. Rodney was carney-caliber creepy. The
type of guy people would swear they saw on ‘America’s Most Wanted,’
or one of those registered sex offender flyers. Dishwater-brown
hair brushed his shoulders in a mullet, framing a gaunt face not
even a mother could love. His whiskey colored eyes constantly
seemed unfocused. His cologne was always the same; eau de’ cheap
booze and cigarettes. He was currently sporting a shirt that boldly
advertised Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.
    Absolutely charming.
    “ I had to make sure you
weren’t dangerous.” He stepped forward and picked up my knife.
After he examined it, he slid it into the back of his
jeans.
    “ Right,
because I’m the one who broke into your apartment.” I gritted my teeth.
    He laughed and held up a key. “I didn’t
break in, I had this.”
    “ Where did you get that?” I
stared at the key he held up as my stomach filled with
lead.
    “ I asked that old wind-bag
all nice-like and she just handed it over to me.”
    By ‘old wind-bag,’ I
assumed he was talking about the landlady, Mrs. Triton. She was a
sweet little lady in her early sixties that made wonderful hot
chocolate. I closed my eyes and remembered how she’d looked the
last time I’d seen her.
    Dread worked its way up my
spine. “Please don’t tell me you did something to Ms.
Triton.”
    Rodney didn’t answer. Instead, he got
defensive.