This is an UNEDITED excerpt from my upcoming book, For Ever. You can find more information on all (well, almost all!) my books and me here:
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For Ever by K.G. Reuss
I was born different.
I always knew there was something not necessarily normal about me. How many children can peer into the shadows and watch as they swirled and formed creatures that could prowl through a dimly-lit bedroom at three in the morning? How many children can say they’ve had a conversation with someone that no one else can see—someone that is as real as the air they breathe—someone with whom Death has touched and then forgotten about? How many children can say that the monsters in their closets and under their beds aren’t a figment of their imaginations, that the shaking of their bed in the middle of the night is more than just an old house settling, that it’s actually something from the Other Side?
And the voices. They were everywhere, like hands reaching out to pull at me, to claw at my crumbling psyche. They whispered, they pleaded, they screamed for me to notice them. And I did. God help me, I did. It wasn’t until I was twelve that I was able to force them away. I learned to block them out until they were a distant echo before finally giving way to silence. Sweet silence. And blindness. I got so good at blocking things out that even the shadows and people I could see that no one else could, disappeared, melding once again into simple darkness, the footsteps, growls, and rasping breaths fading away. More silence.
I thought the silence was beautiful. Comforting. Normal.
It was years before everything that I had worked so hard to put behind me suddenly hit me, smothered me, became me.
And it all started with a kiss before it ended with me dying on the black pavement—pavement that was still wet from the storm that had passed through only an hour before, but now even wetter because of the blood that pooled around my dying body, Rosewood Cemetery a blurry outline in the distance.
And him. The shadow I’d always seen flitting through my room in the dead of night, his lava-red eyes staring down at me, warning me of things to come. Of things I didn’t ask for, things I didn’t want. Things that were simply meant to be because I was different. Because I was not normal. Because he was not normal.
And because there are things some of us are just meant to face, with or without the silence, with or without the fight, the breath, the life. Some of us are destined to die young, to join the ranks of those we feared, to accept what is and what can never be.
I can never be it because I never was it. I am simply different. I am Special.
I am the silence, soft and sweet. But I’m also the storm. The creature in the shadows. The voice in the dark.
The one they fear.
If you don’t know me, be grateful, for I am not there for you. If you do know me, I’m sorry.
For all the things I feared, I have become, and I shall do my duty justly.