Broken Howl by Katie May EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Author: Katie May
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Fantasy
- Format: PDF/ EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
TEEGAN
NOTHING SCARES me more than the soft scuffing sound the front door
makes against the floor when it opens at night. The doorbell doesn’t even
ring, so I don’t get that warning, only that soft whoosh of the mud sweep
dragging along the travertine entryway.
My father answers the door at precisely seven every Thursday evening.
Lately, he’s been at the door even more often than that, opening it to let in
my nightmare.
And there’s nothing I can say or do to stop it.
I hear the click of the latch and the dull clunk of the door shutting, and it
makes my shoulders automatically rise up to my ears, even though I’m
upstairs seated on my queen bed, doing my college English assignment, just
like I’m supposed to be.
My stomach kicks in circles at that dreaded sound, and mentally, I start to
tread water, my mind circling, circling…trying to stay busy so that I don’t
sink into dark thoughts.
If my brain is ever personified, it will resemble that one house you see in
movies…the one at the end of the street with its shutters drawn tight and the
entryway boarded up. The house that children whisper about in hushed
tones as they describe, in vivid detail, the monster who lives inside.
Lurking. Preying. Hunting. The house that seems to rest in a perpetual state
of darkness. Not even the thin shaft of moonlight up above is able to
penetrate the blackness surrounding it like sticky tar.
“Steele.” I hear my father’s happy greeting to his longtime best friend and
our pack’s alpha wolf.
My fingers leave the pages of my book and knot together on my lap, as tied
up as the rest of me with anticipatory anxiety. My eyes trace the narrow
lines on my thumbnail, the imperfections.
“Richard.” One word—that’s all it takes. One low, gruff word from my
father’s friend.
My knees start to knock together, even as my thighs clench and I grow wet
automatically, as a reflex, because my body knows exactly what’s about to
happen. Warring instincts fight inside of me as I pinch my brown eyes shut
and press my lips together, trying to remember how we talked about Jane
Eyre in class today…and all of her assumptions about Mr. Rochester. She
thought he was a cruel bastard. He was, and he wasn’t.
Unfortunately, I’m not dealing with a situation like Jane. I’d gladly trade
places with her. My fingers dig into the pale yellow comforter dotted with
an embroidered sunflower pattern. It’s a happy pattern, set in my bright
yellow room, because when I redecorated a few years ago, I wanted this to
be a happy space. Now, I can’t stand it, because dark memories have tainted
this color for me forever.
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