Awaken (Awaken Series Book 1)

  Copyright © 2013 by Jaime Guerard

  Cover Design by Allie Brennan of B Design

  Editing by Christina Kraker

  Interior design by Angela McLaurin of Fictional formats

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-0-578-12173-4

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  For Pamela Bettencourt

  Your inspiration helped make this story possible.

  As the world around me went silent, I became paralyzed with fear. Nothing in my rational world could have prepared me for this. I was either asleep or losing my mind. This could not be happening.

  My body was tingling and I felt dazed and disoriented. I looked over beneath the trees and saw her staring at me. Her raven black hair hung forward, barely exposing her eyes that were transfixed on me. Chills erupted down my arms and a foreboding feeling penetrated my body. I sensed something coming…something big, I just didn’t know what. I felt utterly disconnected from my surroundings as everything around me suddenly disappeared into a blinding flash of light. As my vision returned, I realized I was in another world, because there was no way that this was real. I couldn’t believe what I was staring at. God help me…

  The darkness settles in. The refuge of the night’s serenity eludes me as trepidation and fear become my unwelcomed, constant companions. Night, the time I can stop worrying about my life and drift off into the abyss, free from conscious thought. It is my only diversion from the realities of my life; my escape from this incomprehensible heaviness, this foreboding feeling that has over taken me. Night, is my escape, but not this night.

  As I lay awake in my bed, I am surrounded by questions, by doubts, by apprehension. This constant state of confusion and chaos must’ve had some basis, yet I couldn’t comprehend what it all meant. It enveloped my body and mind, and held me hostage, but to what end? I only knew that for some reason my life, my reality, was about to change…

  I tried to decipher what it could possibly mean, but came up empty. I wondered if I was getting sick or perhaps just nervous about my job interview tomorrow at one of Grants Pass’s most sought after restaurants. But as I rested on those thoughts, I quickly realized that it was neither. These feelings, these sensations were far greater than anything I had ever felt before. I knew what nerves were. I’ve had that sickening feeling when I was anxious about a job interview and didn’t know what to expect. That was normal. But this, this uncomfortable feeling, this undefined uneasiness, wasn’t something that I couldn’t ignore, even if I tried.

  I placed my hand on my forehead as the hot and cold flashes came and went. Despite my efforts to control these feelings, they came back without warning, without cause. I could feel myself starting to get worked up. Maybe it was just lack of sleep; maybe memories of childhood nightmares were resurfacing. I continued to think as my eyes searched my room looking for anything odd and out of the ordinary. The fact was, I didn’t know what was happening to me. This wasn’t some sickness I could diagnose and it certainly wasn’t insomnia, so what was it?

  I tried very hard to distract myself and focus on something else other than the uneasiness. My thoughts began to drift to my boyfriend Josh. Perhaps, this was because of him? I thought long and hard about this. Josh and I had been dating for over a year. I think that the longevity of our relationship was beginning to get comfortable, perhaps too comfortable. After telling Josh about the job interview, he proceeded to tell me that he didn’t want me to get a job. It sounded more like an order than a suggestion. That must be it, I thought. I mean, who does he think he is telling me what I can and can’t do? Now more than ever, getting a job was so important, not just for the money, but mostly to spite him.

  I took a deep breath and felt the tension in my shoulders relax. The tightness in my limbs from thinking about Josh was subsiding, but not the cloudiness that still inhabited my mind. So I closed my eyes, continued to take long deep breaths and tried to rest.

  Hours passed.

  I expected to open my eyes to the darkness. Instead, my heavy lids cracked open a little and rested upon streaming colors of pinks and yellows that engulfed my room. I don’t remember the sun coming up, which meant I must have fallen asleep at some point. My tiny room was bright and warm; still, I couldn’t escape the feelings of the daunting night I had endured. I just sat there confused, remembering the state of mind I was in. It just didn’t make sense. I tried to put it out of my mind but it haunted me.

  Forcing myself out of bed, I looked over to see what time it was and panicked, “Eight twenty nine!” I yelled. I had over slept. Jumping out of bed, I stumbled over my clothes that were bunched up on the floor and rammed right into my dresser, causing everything on it to plummet to the ground.

  How could I have over slept on a day like today? I didn’t even hear the alarm go off! I huffed and picked up the shattered glass from a picture that had fallen. It was of Josh and me at the winter formal last year. He looked fantastic. His dark gray shirt and black tie matched perfectly with my long silk dress. My blonde hair was pulled up tight in a French twist and a few tiny strands of hair curled down my neck. We looked perfect! But as I stared at the picture, it took me back to that horrible night. It started out good and with promise. Josh surprised me with a limo that I’m sure he talked his dad into getting for him. He took me to an expensive restaurant right on the water. Everything seemed perfect and I couldn’t help but think how lucky I was to have someone like him in my life. It wasn’t until we got to the dance that things began to fall apart. The night progressively got worse until the point where I was in a bathroom stall with my best friend Rebecca on the other side trying to comfort me. Josh and his best friend Trevor and a few guys from the football team decided to leave the dance early to go get drunk, leaving both Becka and myself behind to try to find a ride home.

  Why would I keep this picture? Right now, I wasn’t sure. Every time I looked at it, it reminded me of how self-centered Josh was and how I always overlooked the way he treated me. His comments from last night were a perfect example.

  I stopped and shook my head in disapproval, amazed with how I allowed him to control me. Why was I so weak around him? How was it that he could make me feel like I was stuck in this bubble, not able to do anything without his approval or say? />
  What a great start to the morning. I hope this wasn’t some kind of omen. Before I could think it though, I crumbled the picture up in my hands and hurled it into my trashcan. For a split second, I thought about retrieving the photo but decided against it, reliving my past anger. It felt good to see it mixed in with the trash, all mangled and deformed. I decided that I would leave it right on top for Josh to see when he came over. Maybe then he’d realize that he was really close to losing me and things would change. It was kind of a pointless thought though, because I knew I had tried everything else.

  Standing there dwelling on this undetermined fork in the road called Josh wasn’t helping me get ready. It definitely wasn’t preparing me for a positive version of myself either. So I tried to shake off the negative thoughts and headed straight for the bathroom. Becka was coming at nine and I had to be ready on time so that we wouldn’t be late for our interviews. These lingering questions about Josh, about “us,” would have to wait.

  Rebecca Adams and I have been best friends ever since I came to this desolate little town of Rogue River. I could still picture her walking up our driveway. She was seven at the time. Her bright yellow dress glistened in the sun as she headed toward me. Her brown hair was pulled tightly into two perfect pigtails that danced along her rosy cheekbones as she walked. Her energetic smile somehow released any anger I had stored up in me about having to move.

  With the most innocent voice she announced, “My name is Becka, and I have decided that we’re going to be best friends forever!” She was as bossy then as she is now. But we’ve been inseparable since, “combined at the hip,” as my father puts it.

  Staggering into the bathroom, it seemed that the more I moved, the more I was painfully aware of how physically exhausted I was. It took me a few moments to notice a yellow post-it note taped to the mirror. I didn’t have to guess who it was from since the only other person in the house last night was my father. “Knock-Um Dead, Bre” - was scribbled down illegibly. My dad, Andy, was a good man, but when it came down to being encouraging, he lacked considerably. Sometimes I felt like he saw me as “one of the guys” rather than his daughter.

  It reminded me of the time in seventh grade when he came to watch me tryout for the dance team. I remember at the time being so embarrassed, looking over to the bleachers and seeing this dirty, dark haired mechanic mixed in with a sea of well put-together mothers. His tall, slim body stood out and all I could think about was how everyone was watching him and how I wished he hadn’t come. In hindsight, I guess I should’ve been happy that he cared enough to show up.

  In any case, because of my lack of focus on my routine, I didn’t do well. When I didn’t get in, all he could say to me was, “Oh well.” Not, “I’m so sorry, Bre.” Not, “I know that you’ll get in next year,” nothing. He just skimmed past it like it wasn’t important. It was during times like this when I wished I had parents who actually acted like parents. I didn’t know which was worse, a father who didn’t have a clue about raising a teenager, or a mother who was always gone. My mother, Susan, never seemed to care enough that we might actually need her and want a relationship. No, all she cared about was her job. That was her family.

  I showered quickly, but not by choice. Today especially, I could’ve spent an excessively long amount of time letting the hot water run over my body, waking me slowly. But the reality that I needed a job overruled the desire and I forced myself to get out of the shower. I dried my hair quickly and put on my makeup as best I could with what little time I had. I was almost finished when the sensations hit me again. I started to feel an overwhelming excitement come over me, but also uneasiness, the same feelings I had last night. It felt as though I was in the middle of Alaska with nothing but a t-shirt and shorts on. Every part of my body began to tense up. I noticed that my fingers were tingling now, probably because I was gripping the edge of the counter to keep from collapsing to the floor.

  What was the matter with me? I tried to shake it off but couldn’t. Nothing I did would release this discomfort that kept plaguing me. “Snap out of it, Bre!” I said. I didn’t care if I was talking to myself, since I was the only one in the house. My dad had to get to the shop early that morning. He worked for Rogue Auto, the only mechanic shop in Rogue River. He got the job right after high school, worked there for a few years before he and my mother moved away. When they moved back to Rogue River, he talked his old boss into hiring him again and has worked there ever since. You would think that anyone who works as hard as my father would eventually want to do something else, or at least start his own shop, but not dad. He seemed perfectly content with the way things were. He was one of the few people I knew who honestly loved what he did and loved going to work every day. Sometimes I thought it was his only escape from reality. Maybe being so immersed in work was his way of avoiding thinking about his marriage and why things turned out the way they did. He knew his marriage was something he couldn’t fix. Working on cars was something he could control. Because of this, he buried himself in work and shut the world out.

  My younger brother, Caleb, wasn’t home either. He spent the night at his best friend Jessie’s house. My mom was off gallivanting around the world somewhere “the big executive.” So it was just me and an empty house.

  It’s just nerves, I tried to tell myself but I knew it wasn’t the case. At that moment, I couldn’t concentrate on any one task yet somehow managed to put myself together. It felt as if time had stopped but somehow life around me was still running its course. What was this? I tried to wrap my head around it, but nothing made sense.

  I looked at a fuzzy image of myself in the mirror and waited for the moment to pass. Then in one split second, everything shifted. The uneasiness faded, but every inch of me felt totally lifeless and exhausted. I felt as though an unknown presence surrounded and enveloped my very being, sinking into the core of who I am. I felt limp and unresponsive as a cloud of fog shrouded my small, frail body. Yet no one was in the house. Despite the uneasiness, I wasn’t afraid. All the anxiety from before had dissipated and, without warning, it was gone and I was back to normal. Staring into my reflection, I tried to make sense of what had just happened. I couldn’t.

  Just then the doorbell rang and Becka came barreling through the door.

  “I don’t know why you even bother ringing the doorbell,” I pointed out as I peeked out the bathroom door.

  “It’s just a habit going into someone else’s house,” she said, walking down the hall with a bounce to her step. She was so bubbly this morning that her nervous excitement, almost made my tension return.

  She looked fantastic, as usual, though I wasn’t sure she was appropriately dressed for an interview. I didn’t think I had ever seen Becka look anything less than perfect. She was the girl that everyone tried to mimic; the type of girl that even though you were best friends with her, you still found yourself envious of her beauty. She was wearing a tight, black sleeveless blouse and a gray mini-skirt with black heels. The black lace blouse had a bow that hung down right above her cleavage, another obvious “enviable asset” that others as well as myself had added to our Christmas “Wish List.” Her skirt was much too short, and her overall appearance was too sexy for an interview, I thought.

  “Cute clothes! What are you trying to do, flirt your way into this job?” I commented with a little truth behind my comment.

  With one eyebrow raised and her smile curved into a seemly smirk, she narcissistically pronounced. “You know it!”

  “You’re impossible,” I said.

  “Speaking about impossible, why aren’t you ready?” Her hands were on her hips now and she was stamping her foot at me, the same way my mother did when she was questioning what I was doing. “Are you trying to be late?”

  I tried to make my glare believable, but she was always able to make me smile even when I didn’t want to.

  “You know, we could blow off this whole job thing and head to the mall to pick up some cute guys.” She flipped her golden
brown hair over her shoulder. “And what do you know, I wouldn’t even have to change!”

  “As tempting as that sounds, Beck, you know I need this job.”

  Her arms that she was holding up in a modeling pose fell limply by her sides.

  “Plus, what would our boyfriends think if we were going to the mall to meet up with guys?” I noted.

  She flashed me a scandalous look through her gorgeous dark brown eyes, as if to say, what, we’re young, let’s live a little! But as quickly as the look came, it disappeared. With a big sigh she said, “Fine. Let’s get you dressed so we can go be boring and get jobs.”

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t need this job. If you want to stay up in the fashion world, you need to work for it. Your ‘gorgeousness’ doesn’t come cheap, you know.”

  Becka’s parents told her that if she wanted designer clothes and all the “finer things in life,” then she was going to have to pay for them herself. Becka’s parents were very well off. Her father, Ronald Adams, was a surgeon at the hospital in Medford, and her mother, Cindy, was an OB nurse. They weren’t hurting for money by any means, but Becka said they were on this mental trip wanting her to make her own way in the world. She wasn’t too happy about it, but in my opinion, it was going to be good for her.

  “Here we go, perfect! This is what you should wear.” She picked out my new ensemble.

  “No way!” I rolled my eyes. She had picked out the dress we bought the night we decided to go to a party in Medford. We’d heard there were going to be a lot of college boys there from the University, so we stopped off at the mall to buy some cute outfits. We bought these tiny, little black dresses, and I mean tiny, thinking they would make us look older.