Fatal Read Online Free Page B
Book: Fatal Read Online Free
Author: S.T. Hill
soon as the alarm went off. I'd woken covered in a sheen of sweat, the white undershirt I wore as a pajama top sticking to my skin.
Mom rolled around in her wheelchair in her room. I could hear the noise of it through the walls. We'd packed up all her stuff yesterday, but she was just as nervous as I was.
We both knew this was the last time we'd see each other for months. I told her yesterday that I'd come home for Christmas, but who knew if that was going to happen? I'd spent all the money I'd made selling our stuff on a one-way ticket to Massachusetts and a shuttle ride over to Hazelglen.
I didn't tell her this, of course. She thought I had plenty of money to get myself fixed up there, but the truth was I had no idea what to do other than to report for orientation and hope they served refreshments. I'd have to open a bank account out there to put the scholarship money into, and who knew how long it would take them to cut me a check and for it to clear.
These and a whole constellation of other worries whirled around in my head as I listened to mom putter around. I knew I should go in there, that I should spend every last second possible with her before they snatched her out of my hands.
But the truth was I was scared.
I had this picture of her in my mind from that day earlier this week when she'd made the call to go in for the study and for me to go to school. When I closed my eyes, I could see her smiling. I could see the little spots of color in her usually pallid cheeks.
If I went in there with her, it felt like that picture would disappear, deleted from my mind as though someone dragged the file over to the little trash bin icon.
The urge to go into her room and demand that she call the whole thing off welled up inside me as an insistent heat. My fingernails scratched at the white paint on the windowsill and I leaned my forehead against the glass, which felt smooth and pleasantly cool against my skin.
Even if she did call, I knew, things were already changed. Someone else would be moving into this apartment. I'd given my notice at work. All our stuff was gone. Life tugged me ever forward, no matter how hard I tried clinging to what I already had.
A big white van pulled up to the curb beside those sagging pieces of cardboard. Two men got out, slamming their doors shut with muffled thuds.
That nervous ball building inside me burst. They were here, coming through the front door, come to take her away.
"Mom!" I said, running from my room.
She was in the kitchen, sipping at a glass of water. A large duffle bag was slung across her lap, filled with some clothes, a few books she wanted to read, some photo albums. All the bits and pieces of life people wanted to cart around with them to remember where they came from.
"What? Are they here yet? I just knew they'd get stuck in traffic. What... oh!" mom said.
I moved around behind her, leaned over and hugged her, resting my head as lightly as I could on her thin shoulder. The sweet smell of her medicine tried to lock up my throat, but I ignored it. She patted my forearm.
" It's okay, Steph. You know it. This is the best thing that could have happened."
It wasn't. The best would have been if I found a magic lantern so that I could wish her cancer gone, loads of money, and the answers to all the big questions I could think of.
"I'll miss you..." I said, my heart thumping so hard I thought she could hear it.
I thought I heard footsteps out in the hall. Any second, they would knock on the door.
I hugged her tightly as I concentrated, trying to slow time down for just a few more minutes. It felt like I was never going to see her again, or hear the sound of her voice.
That was ridiculous, I knew. We could call each other. Who knew, maybe they'd even have webcams in the hospital so we could actually see each other?
But no amount of rational thought could get rid of those fears.
My body jerked as someone rapped on the door three times. I held my breath, doing my best
Mom rolled around in her wheelchair in her room. I could hear the noise of it through the walls. We'd packed up all her stuff yesterday, but she was just as nervous as I was.
We both knew this was the last time we'd see each other for months. I told her yesterday that I'd come home for Christmas, but who knew if that was going to happen? I'd spent all the money I'd made selling our stuff on a one-way ticket to Massachusetts and a shuttle ride over to Hazelglen.
I didn't tell her this, of course. She thought I had plenty of money to get myself fixed up there, but the truth was I had no idea what to do other than to report for orientation and hope they served refreshments. I'd have to open a bank account out there to put the scholarship money into, and who knew how long it would take them to cut me a check and for it to clear.
These and a whole constellation of other worries whirled around in my head as I listened to mom putter around. I knew I should go in there, that I should spend every last second possible with her before they snatched her out of my hands.
But the truth was I was scared.
I had this picture of her in my mind from that day earlier this week when she'd made the call to go in for the study and for me to go to school. When I closed my eyes, I could see her smiling. I could see the little spots of color in her usually pallid cheeks.
If I went in there with her, it felt like that picture would disappear, deleted from my mind as though someone dragged the file over to the little trash bin icon.
The urge to go into her room and demand that she call the whole thing off welled up inside me as an insistent heat. My fingernails scratched at the white paint on the windowsill and I leaned my forehead against the glass, which felt smooth and pleasantly cool against my skin.
Even if she did call, I knew, things were already changed. Someone else would be moving into this apartment. I'd given my notice at work. All our stuff was gone. Life tugged me ever forward, no matter how hard I tried clinging to what I already had.
A big white van pulled up to the curb beside those sagging pieces of cardboard. Two men got out, slamming their doors shut with muffled thuds.
That nervous ball building inside me burst. They were here, coming through the front door, come to take her away.
"Mom!" I said, running from my room.
She was in the kitchen, sipping at a glass of water. A large duffle bag was slung across her lap, filled with some clothes, a few books she wanted to read, some photo albums. All the bits and pieces of life people wanted to cart around with them to remember where they came from.
"What? Are they here yet? I just knew they'd get stuck in traffic. What... oh!" mom said.
I moved around behind her, leaned over and hugged her, resting my head as lightly as I could on her thin shoulder. The sweet smell of her medicine tried to lock up my throat, but I ignored it. She patted my forearm.
" It's okay, Steph. You know it. This is the best thing that could have happened."
It wasn't. The best would have been if I found a magic lantern so that I could wish her cancer gone, loads of money, and the answers to all the big questions I could think of.
"I'll miss you..." I said, my heart thumping so hard I thought she could hear it.
I thought I heard footsteps out in the hall. Any second, they would knock on the door.
I hugged her tightly as I concentrated, trying to slow time down for just a few more minutes. It felt like I was never going to see her again, or hear the sound of her voice.
That was ridiculous, I knew. We could call each other. Who knew, maybe they'd even have webcams in the hospital so we could actually see each other?
But no amount of rational thought could get rid of those fears.
My body jerked as someone rapped on the door three times. I held my breath, doing my best