Salt for Air by M.C. Frank EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: M.C. Frank
- Language: English
- Genre: Folklore
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
“No! No. Don’t die, you idiot!”
The voice sounds impatient and mad. But mostly it sounds disgusted—
as though it’s exasperating to whoever is speaking that I should be dying
right now, when it’s clearly so inconvenient.
“Don’t you die on me. Look at me. Focus on breathing.”
Now, there are all sorts of things wrong with that sentence.
One. I can’t breathe no matter how much I focus, because my face is
being shoved inside a toilet and there’s a hand pushing my neck in. No
matter how much I thrash and kick my legs and wave my arms around the
porcelain bowl, water keeps getting in my nostrils, choking me.
Two. I shouldn’t be able to hear someone speaking to me through the
freaking toilet water of the girls’ bathroom.
Three. There shouldn’t be anyone in the freaking toilet of the girls’
bathroom.
But there is.
Or at least I think there is. It is a strong possibility that I’m going mad.
It finally happened. My dad used to jokingly say to me:
“All these fine-fictions you’re writing will get inside your head one
day, sweetheart, mark my words, and you won’t be able to tell reality from
imagination.”
“That’s the point,” I’d murmur absently, my fingers tap-tapping on my
laptop. “And it’s fanfiction.”
“You need to spend more time in the real world,” he’d shake his head,
full of dark wavy curls identical to mine, but his eyes would sparkle with
secret laughter. Then he’d lean down to whisper in my ear. “That’s how
people go crazy, you know.”
I’d lift a hand to scratch the place on my cheek where his breath had
touched, because it tickled. He’d burst out laughing and do it again.
“Cut it out,” I’d yell, laughing. “You don’t get the point, dad. I don’t
want to spend more time in the real world.”
He’d nothing to say to that.
He knew what was going on at school, well, not everything, cause I
didn’t tell him, but he could tell when I came home all red-eyed or with my
shirt torn, or, once, with my skirt doused in cooking oil. Today, if I was to
get home at all, it would be my shirt and the top part of my pants that would
be drenched in toilet water.
But my dad won’t be there.
Nor will I, apparently, because it seriously looks like I’m actually dying
here. Drowning in three inches of water. My lungs constrict, heaving in a
breath that’s full of acid water, and I splutter as it chokes me. My eyelids
drift shut, blurring the image of a pair of brilliant eyes that are staring at me
For More Read Download This Book
EPUB