Free The Drazen World: Release (Kindle Worlds Novella) by A. R. Hadley Page A

ruined. Red and ruined. The liquid stained my tights. 
     
    "Jess..."
    Jonathan called my name, I think, but I couldn't hear him. I was in the hallway with her. Not my mother. Her. 
    "You little brat. Your parents spent a fortune on this gown. Guests are coming. The red will never come out."
    "It will never come out," I mumbled. I thought I mumbled anyway, but I couldn't talk. My lips wouldn't move. Nothing would come out. It won't come out. It won't come out. It won't come out. I screamed.  
    Jonathan had his arms wrapped around me that night. A different night. The dreary night we had left the hospital. The way I knew he did right now. 
    "Take off your gloves and put your hand out, Jessica," she said. 
    My lower lip trembled. I could still taste the juice on my tongue. I would never forget the taste. The juice or the acid. 
    "Put your hand out." Her voice was shrill. Cat claws on a chalkboard. 
    She took the wooden spoon from her apron and smacked my palm with it. Three times in quick succession. It didn't hurt. Not anymore. Nothing did. 
    "It will be okay," Jonathan had said. He had kissed the top of my forehead. It was raining. The car had a smell I had never noticed before. Musk. Pine. Death. I only stared into a distant place, beyond the raindrops. I couldn't talk. They took it away from me. I couldn't talk. I wouldn't talk. 
    "You'll be okay," the nurse had said. 
    "You will be okay," Jonathan had said. 
    I'll be okay. I shook. I bled.
    My stockings were ruined. I would ruin the fundraiser. I would be a disappointment to everyone. The people I left behind at the house. I would be a disappointment to him. He will never see me the same way again. Don't look at me. I shook my head. Nothing moved. The world outside my window was a void. Colorless. Empty. Please. Please.  
    I heard a whisper. "Shh." I felt his breath against my skin. "You're dreaming, baby," he said. 
    I put my hand on his waist. I think I said his name. 
    He was here. 
    With me.
    Real. 
    Now. 
    Mine. 
    I knew he would be mine the moment I first laid eyes on him. 
    I had been dreaming. I peeked at him through my lashes. We were in the hotel room. The condo. Out of town. Right. I drifted a little, into the place between awake and asleep, keeping his image in the forefront of my imagination. He was beautiful just now, staring at me, backlit by the sun, but I wasn't thinking of his handsome face. It wasn't the sum of all his parts. He was more. He had originality. A brand. He had a walk. I envied it. Loved it. Stealth, under the radar, a posture that took nothing for granted; not a moment was wasted in the subtle shift of his hips or in the squaring of his shoulders. He carried himself different than any other man I had ever met. 
    Jonathan changed positions. 
    We spooned. My front to his back. I nuzzled my nose into his neck and breathed in his morning scent. I picked up on the hints of sage even though I knew he hadn't put on any cologne yet. His hair tickled me. It was beautiful too, the color of a brilliant sunset. Copper fire bleeding into the blue sky. I wanted to paint the color of his hair on a canvas. I wanted to smear burnt sienna around on an enormous white board and upset the balance of the universe.
    My father thought I made art because I was bored. It was what he told everyone. He told Jonathan that lie the night he met him. I let everyone believe it.
    A lie was always easier than truth. I painted, I created, to prove everyone wrong. Sometimes I was bored. Anyone who said they were never bored, they were liars.
    I kept my eyes closed. I wanted to go back to sleep, but I would refuse to dream. Not that dream. The same one. The noxious one. The childish nightmare. 
    Too late. 
    Jonathan broke up my early morning resolution. He had just wrapped my fist around his erection.

three
     
    JONATHAN
     
    "Jon..."
    That did it. I couldn't see her, but I knew her eyes must've popped open. "Good morning." 
    "What time is it?" 
    I