Free Winter's Fury - Volume Two of The Saga of the Twelves by Richard M. Heredia Page B

her, which was rare among the boys
she had dated before him. He had seemed at ease within his own
skin, though he was a bit overzealous about the sport he played,
but that did not bother her. He excelled at wrestling. Who could
begrudge his work ethic, his rigorous training regimen? If he was
good enough to one be All-American; maybe he could make the U.S.
Olympic Team?
    She sure as hell would
have been so proud of him, proud of his dedication, proud that he
could stick by something so demanding. It would have been
incredible. She would have gone to every meet. She would have
cheered for him until her throat hurt, until she could not speak
anymore. She would have been there, on the sidelines, waiting for
him to come from the mats, to come into her arms. She would have
kissed him until her lips chapped. In front of everyone, even her
parents if they came, she would not have cared one iota if she
offended anyone. Joaquin was hers. She was going to show him just
how much she appreciated him with every available opportunity. Even
after a week with him, she could see that future as if she had been
experiencing it for real. Every taste, every smell, every texture
and color she had seen was in perfect clarity like 1080p Blu-Ray.
It was as vivid as life itself.
    And now, all that was
gone, made impossible by the extraordinary consequences of the past
three days.
    The Event.
    That incident had taken
Joaquin from her. It had ruined what she knew would have been a
perfect life and shattered her dreams for all time.
    The Event, according to
the tight-lipped authorities, was the country’s worst rash of
serial abductions in its’ history. And, it was still on-going.
Every day passing had ended with evermore kidnappings. They all had
been in the same general area. They were all taken in northeastern
Los Angeles. Some debauched group of people was taking the children
away. Some unknown enemy was stealing the hopes and aspirations of
hundreds, maybe even thousands.
    Three days! she raged within the snarl of her blankets.
Though her tears had dried-up long ago, the wracking sobs gone on,
unrelenting. You have taken everything
from me! You fucking assholes! You have ripped me to fucking
shreds! She pounded the mattress, crazed
with fury, insane with grief. How could
you?!? How could you do this to me?!? She
could feel the emotion building at the base of her throat. It was
molten. It seared her from the inside out, cooking, frying, then
burning her to the bone. She squeezed her eyes shut, the tension
growing, the fire filling her. It was too much. She had to let it
go. She had to set the world ablaze. Everything must crinkled and
char before the fury in her soul. Everything -.
    She screamed.
    With the last of her
strength, she rose from the bed, bending backward at the waist. Her
back curved the wrong way, her neck craned toward the ceiling. She
screamed as loud as she could, feeling her body become hallow,
drain, turn to a husk that was only a fraction of what it had
been.
    There was the pound of
running feet through the house, but she had not taken heed through
the anguish consuming her.
    She fell back onto the
bed, bouncing, the pathetic wails unending. She could not stop. She
lacked the ability. She could only hold on for dear life and ride
the tsunami-like currents wherever they might lead, wherever they
might deposit her. Aware she had come close to shredding her vocal
cords, feeling the agony there, she curled into a fetal position.
Her knees bunched up against her breasts, her elbows
overlapping. Why? Why? Why did you have to
do this to me!?! To us!
    “ Clarisse! Baby-girl, no!”
said a voice as if someone had appeared by magic, someone who could
walked through doors as silent as a ghost. It was a certain someone
with the voice of her mother. “No, no, no, no!”
    The eleventh grader did
not feel the weight of her mother’s body as she struggled across
the mess of a bed. She did not feel her unwind her body from the
blankets. She