Illusions (The Missing #1) by A. M. Irvin Read Free Book Online Page A

fists. I tried to see through the dirty smudges. I prayed I’d see movement indicating that someone had heard me. That someone was out there and would rescue me.
    I kept pounding and smacking my hand against the glass.
    Someone!
    Anyone!
    Help!
    I banged on the window until my skin split and my bones rattled.
    “No one sees you, Nora, because no one cares enough to look.”
    I should give up, but I couldn’t let go of the chance that I would be heard.
    “I’m here,” I whispered, when finally, I dropped my hand in exhaustion and pressed my forehead against the glass.
    “I’m here,” I murmured, my throat dry and my stomach rolling.
    I ran my fingers along the sill, not flinching as slivers of wood embedded themselves under my skin. I went over the cracks and edges of the window, looking for a way to open it.
    Using my fingernails, I chipped away at the paint. Knowing I was mere feet away from freedom but couldn’t get there was absolute torture. I could almost see it. I could almost feel the fresh air. But I just. Couldn’t. Reach it.
    “Please,” I moaned, frantically sweeping my fingers along the crevices. “Please!” I keened, scrapping, ripping. Paint fell in flakes onto the dirty floor.
    “Someone help me!” I cried and was almost relieved to feel the wet tears on my cheeks. Their salty trails washed away some of the blood and grime. They were cleansing.
    A release.
    The only kind I could have.
    I let myself cry, and I continued to pry at the window, desperate for the air. Frantic for the sun.
    “Please!”
    Silence. Empty, loaded silence.
    “Please, let me go!”
    My fingers brushed against something hard and cold in the corner of the ledge. I could see the glint of metal in the hazy sunlight, and my heart thumped, thumped in my chest.
    I tried to pick it up, but my grasp was weak. Instead I swept it to the edge and let it fall. It hit the ground with a clang. My breath caught in my throat. The tears dried up.
    I knelt down and scooped the small object into my palm. I held it close to my face so that I could see it.
    Constant looping designs etched in silver . . .
    The setting sun gave me just enough light to see. I walked along the sidewalk with anticipation fluttering wildly in my gut.
    I smiled.
    I giggled.
    I laughed and laughed.
    I pushed my hair off my face and refused to hide. Not anymore.
    I wanted to show her me. All of me.
    Tonight would be the beginning . . .
    I ran my fingers over the thin, silver band on my thumb. Too large for my other fingers because it hadn’t been made for me.
    My tongue glided over my teeth as I felt the engraved symbols on the delicate piece of jewelry.
    It was mine.
    It was so much nicer than my paper ring. It felt right on my hand.
    I almost had everything . . .
    I slipped the ring onto my thumb, where I knew it belonged.
    Rosie’s ring.
    My ring.
    How did it get here, stuck in the cracks of the window?
    I turned back to the glass and pressed my palms against the smooth surface.
    “I’m here,” I whispered to no one.
    Because no one could hear me.

The Past
    Five Months Earlier
     
    T he house was silent.
    The sun had set hours ago, and I should have been asleep but rest evaded me.
    The only sound was that of my breathing. Ragged. Painful. In and out.
    Sometimes I went to bed hoping that tomorrow wouldn’t be so bad. I’d think to myself that perhaps, when I woke up in the morning, I could be just another twenty-year-old girl with normal twenty-year-old problems. Maybe I could agonize over my hair and giggle with friends on the phone about a boy I liked.
    I’d get this excited flutter in my belly that felt almost like possibility.
    I loved those nights.
    Nights when I could dream and be someone else.
    Tonight wasn’t one of those nights.
    I had come home from college, happy to see that my mother’s car was gone. She worked three days a week at a daycare center.
    She had been working there since I was a little girl. I had been upset, being still young