Free Survival (Twisted Book 1) by Rebecca Sherwin Page A

nice, but it wasn’t going anywhere.”
    Michael. I had met him at a charity event a few months back. He was fun, funny in a laugh at him kind of way, but he got too close. He wanted to spend every night at my place and asked one too many questions about the pictures on the walls, or why I couldn’t go to bed until the dishes had been washed and the cushions arranged in the right way. Clarke was the same. And George…and Steven before that. I met them all the same way; through work. Steven even took me to Paris for the weekend when he had to go on business. Being in the city of love and romance only cemented the fact that I was never going to fall for him. There had been a few before that, too, but I hadn’t felt that connection; the one that told me we wouldn’t part ways eventually, one way or another. I was content with casually dating, keeping to myself and keeping an even playing field so I wouldn’t feel like I owed anyone anything; enjoying their company until we came to the crossroads where I had to make a choice, to take the risk or protect myself. The decision was never a difficult one. I always protected myself.
    “So, you’re looking for perfection.”
    “Nope,” I spoke with confidence. “I’m looking for magic. He can have flaws that surpass any list of negatives ever compiled. As long as he’s…just…magic.”
    “You know that crap doesn’t exist, right?”
    “Yep. Now you see why I do what I do,” I clinked my glass with hers. “Come on, drink up or we’ll be late.”
    I didn’t know it didn’t exist, not really. I believed it did. My mother – the pain and confusion halted my breath every time I thought about her – used to care. It was a memory I knew was real. She used to tell me stories; the fairy tales that all little girls believed. Good. Evil. Love. Hate. Salvation.
    I had to believe in something when I had nothing a nd I chose to believe in love. One day I would find someone who loved me as much as the prince loved the princess in every fairy tale ever written. I just had to fight to find it and if I had to date a few frogs, so be it.
     
    Margarita Monday. My favourite day of the week. There was a small Mexican place central to where we all lived and the four of us would go there every Monday. Jose’s made the best frozen margaritas.
    Penelope and I jumped out of the cab and met the others outside; Jenifer, the new office junior, and Amanda, one of the downstairs receptionists. She would always pop upstairs to gossip and we hit it off straight away. We headed inside and straight to our usual table.
    I loved hanging out with the girls. I never thought I would have a group of friends, but there I sat, sipping on a passion fruit margarita and having a good time. I rarely spoke about my personal life and never about the last two years of my teens. I told them I was estranged from my parents, which wasn’t a complete lie, it just wasn’t my choice to be abandoned. I left that part of my life story out. And anything else prior to 2003. It hurt too much to talk about, so I consciously repressed it, never letting it show.
    The lights dimmed and the place fell silent before a new song started.
    “ Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…”
    I looked around for the lucky birthday celebrator, ignoring the sharp stab in my back, my chest, my heart. I didn’t know where it hurt, I just knew that it did. And then my body went numb when I saw two waiters approaching me with a cake and candles bearing the number 24.
    “ Happy birthday, dear Skye. Happy birthday to you, ” my friends sang, oblivious to the fact that I had shut down.
    The cake was placed in front of me and the tears pooled.
    “I’m sorry,” I spluttered as I jumped from the table and ran outside.
    I hid in the alleyway next to the restaurant and tried to calm myself. I didn’t celebrate my birthday. I didn’t tell anyone when it was. I avoided conversing about all celebrations; even Cinco de Mayo, and England