"Spindler, Erica - In Silence" - читать интересную книгу автора (Spindler Erica)

What part had he played in those memories? Had they shared stories that hadn't included him? Or had they simply plucked him out as if he had never existed?

Shut out again. Always the one on the outside, looking in. The one who didn't belong.

"Wnat's wrong with you, Hunter? What went wrong with you ? "

Good question, he thought, gazing at the bottles, squeezing his fists against the urge that swelled inside him. The urge to open a bottle and get stinking, fall-down drunk.

He'd been down that path; he knew the only place it would lead him was straight to hell.
A hell of his own making. One populated by children screaming in terror. One in which he was helpless to stop the inevitable. Helpless to do more than look on in horror and self-loathing. In despair.

Hunter swung away from the bottles. He sucked in a deep breath and moved deliberately away from the kitchen and toward the makeshift desk he had set up in the corner of his small living room. On the desk sat a computer, monitor glowing in the dimly lit room, fan humming softly. Beside it the pages of a novel. His novel. A story about a lawyer's spiral to the depths.

If only he knew the story's end. Some days, he thought his protagonist would manage to claw his way up from those depths. Other days, hopelessness held him so tightly in its grip he couldn't breathe let alone imagine a happy ending.

He pulled out the chair and sat, intent on channeling his energy and anger into his novel. Instead, he found his thoughts turning to Avery once more.

What caused a man to douse himself with a flammable substance and strike a match?

He knew. He understood.

He had been there, too.

The blinking cursor drew his attention. He focused on the words he had written:

Jack fought the forces that threatened to devour him. To his right lay the laws of man, to his left the greatness of God. One wrong step and he would be lost.

Lost. And found. He had come home to set things right. To start over. He had already begun.

And now, here was Avery.

All together again, he thought. He, Matt and Avery. The same as when his life had begun to implode. How would this affect his plans? The timetable of events he had carefully constructed?

It wouldn't, he decided. Things would be set right. His life would be set right. No matter how much it hurt.




CHAPTER 5

Avery bolted upright in bed, heart pounding, her father's name a scream on her lips. She darted her gaze to the bedroom door, for a split second a kid again, expecting her parents to charge through, all concerned hugs and comforting arms.

They didn't, of course, and she sagged back against the headboard. She hadn't slept well, no surprise there. She'd tossed and turned, each creak and moan of the old house unfamiliar and jarring. She had been up a half dozen times. Checking the doors. Peering out the windows. Pacing the floor.

In truth, she suspected it hadn't been the noises that had kept her awake. It had been the quiet. The reason for the quiet.

Finally, she'd taken the couple of Tylenol PM caplets she'd dug out of her travel bag. Sleep had come.

But not rest. For sleep had brought nightmares. In them, she had been enfolded in a womb, warm and contented. Protected. Sud-denly, she had been torn from her safe haven and thrust into a bright, white place. The light had burned. She had been naked. And cold.