Unwilling (Book One of the Compelled Trilogy 1) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Kristen Pike
told Rowan; looking at her apologetically, desperately needing her reassurance that it was okay to go.
“Please don’t go.” Rowan whispered, staring at her nearly full bowl of oatmeal, steam rising from it.
“Rowan.” Her father breathed sadly, his face pinched at the impossible situation he once again found himself in. Rowan knew it was pointless to try to persuade him to stay, he always went. Rowan shook her head, tears pricking at her eyes. She pushed back from her chair and ran from the kitchen, going to sulk in the hidden room. Rowan was surprised to find Elias wasn’t there.
Rowan studied Elias’s paintings for hours, and by the time she emerged, exhausted, the sun had fallen and crickets were chirping in the moon light.
Rowan groped her way through the dark house, her eyes adjusting poorly to the dim light, to her room. She pushed open the door, wooden toy blocks clambering together as the door swung open. Rowan had first put the blocks by the door when she was younger, to wake her up when her mother came in the night, as she often did, and it was a habit her and Elias had continued, as they grew older. Rowan closed the door quietly, careful not to wake Elias, though Rowan sincerely doubted that he was sleeping. He would be laying there, waiting, breathing, heart thudding, thinking, agonizing thoughts and memories and hours spent in the darkness trying desperately, urgently to wish himself away gone disappeared.
She slid into the bed after replacing the blocks against the door, drawing the blankets to her chin, and snuggled deep into her bed as though her mother wouldn’t see her if she hid herself well beneath her blankets. Rowan knew her mother wouldn’t come that night. She never came that first night, but always the one after, and she quickly fell into sleep, knowing this would be the last peaceful night of sleep she would have until father returned.
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The day slipped quickly by. Rowan awoke in the morning her heart heavy, and went to bed that night, her heart heavier. Rowan could feel the foreboding night drawing closer and her heart beat with each hour each minute each second that ticked by. Rowan watched the sun ascend in the sky from her bedroom window and prayed to all the Gods that the sun wouldn’t set, that it would stay in the sky forever and keep their mother from coming, but with each heartbeat another hour minute second ticked by and the sun descended a little more behind the trees that surrounded her house until at last her mother’s conspirator, the moon, who had agreed to keep all her mother’s secrets, swung vibrantly into the dark gray sky as if it couldn’t care less about what transpired below it.
Rowan and Elias were quiet as they crawled into their beds. Elias grabbed Rowans hand and squeezed once, as though that would give Rowan the bravery to endure that horrible first night.
Rowan jumped at a scraping sound in the hall, her heart skipping a beat. This is it. This is her. Rowan thought, her breath quickening. 99. 98. 97. Rowan counted, trying to calm herself the way Elias had taught her when they were younger.
96. 95. 94. The door slid open, the blocks tumbling onto the floor as if trying to also escape, rolling one over the other as the door pushed across the floor. 93. 92. Rowan could see her mother’s silhouette in the doorframe, illuminated by the small light cast by the moon. Rowan swore her mother could see their rapid breaths puffing out in the air. Feel their terror as each step she took toward them boomed in their ears like a clap of thunder.
Elias stood, squeezing Rowan’s hand once more. An assurance that he would see her in the morning, to go to bed, to not stay awake and listen and cry and breath and worry, and agonize each second he didn’t come back. A squeeze with a million meanings and none of them mattered because Rowan would stay awake and listen and cry and try to breath and worry and
“Please don’t go.” Rowan whispered, staring at her nearly full bowl of oatmeal, steam rising from it.
“Rowan.” Her father breathed sadly, his face pinched at the impossible situation he once again found himself in. Rowan knew it was pointless to try to persuade him to stay, he always went. Rowan shook her head, tears pricking at her eyes. She pushed back from her chair and ran from the kitchen, going to sulk in the hidden room. Rowan was surprised to find Elias wasn’t there.
Rowan studied Elias’s paintings for hours, and by the time she emerged, exhausted, the sun had fallen and crickets were chirping in the moon light.
Rowan groped her way through the dark house, her eyes adjusting poorly to the dim light, to her room. She pushed open the door, wooden toy blocks clambering together as the door swung open. Rowan had first put the blocks by the door when she was younger, to wake her up when her mother came in the night, as she often did, and it was a habit her and Elias had continued, as they grew older. Rowan closed the door quietly, careful not to wake Elias, though Rowan sincerely doubted that he was sleeping. He would be laying there, waiting, breathing, heart thudding, thinking, agonizing thoughts and memories and hours spent in the darkness trying desperately, urgently to wish himself away gone disappeared.
She slid into the bed after replacing the blocks against the door, drawing the blankets to her chin, and snuggled deep into her bed as though her mother wouldn’t see her if she hid herself well beneath her blankets. Rowan knew her mother wouldn’t come that night. She never came that first night, but always the one after, and she quickly fell into sleep, knowing this would be the last peaceful night of sleep she would have until father returned.
҉ ҉ ҉
The day slipped quickly by. Rowan awoke in the morning her heart heavy, and went to bed that night, her heart heavier. Rowan could feel the foreboding night drawing closer and her heart beat with each hour each minute each second that ticked by. Rowan watched the sun ascend in the sky from her bedroom window and prayed to all the Gods that the sun wouldn’t set, that it would stay in the sky forever and keep their mother from coming, but with each heartbeat another hour minute second ticked by and the sun descended a little more behind the trees that surrounded her house until at last her mother’s conspirator, the moon, who had agreed to keep all her mother’s secrets, swung vibrantly into the dark gray sky as if it couldn’t care less about what transpired below it.
Rowan and Elias were quiet as they crawled into their beds. Elias grabbed Rowans hand and squeezed once, as though that would give Rowan the bravery to endure that horrible first night.
Rowan jumped at a scraping sound in the hall, her heart skipping a beat. This is it. This is her. Rowan thought, her breath quickening. 99. 98. 97. Rowan counted, trying to calm herself the way Elias had taught her when they were younger.
96. 95. 94. The door slid open, the blocks tumbling onto the floor as if trying to also escape, rolling one over the other as the door pushed across the floor. 93. 92. Rowan could see her mother’s silhouette in the doorframe, illuminated by the small light cast by the moon. Rowan swore her mother could see their rapid breaths puffing out in the air. Feel their terror as each step she took toward them boomed in their ears like a clap of thunder.
Elias stood, squeezing Rowan’s hand once more. An assurance that he would see her in the morning, to go to bed, to not stay awake and listen and cry and breath and worry, and agonize each second he didn’t come back. A squeeze with a million meanings and none of them mattered because Rowan would stay awake and listen and cry and try to breath and worry and
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